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it’s absurd,
you keep breaking—

deep down,
you’re tired
of it all.

sick of it.
sick of
the fall.

“traumas,”
you keep sayin’—
“i’m over it,
i’m okay.”

but all you’ve done
is what you had
to do:

survive.

and now you live
with words
you can’t take back.

it’s wasting
your time,
your energy.

the only one left
is you—
and you’re not okay.

nobody hurts you
worse than
you do.

so why
keep this up?

take a breath.
open your eyes.

everything
will fall in place—

this time.
inspired by slaves’ “petty trappin.”

a poem about the lies we tell ourselves, the pain we repeat, and the slow fight to break through it.

sometimes healing sounds like tough love. even when it’s your own voice.
To hell with normalcy.
I'd rather be someone revolting.

It hurts?
That’s a fallacy.
You're a coward —
and that’s fear prompting.

Indeed, there are hierarchies.
And rebelling is... concerning.
Misusing the power to control the industry —
Rebounding on the surface;
it's redundant. It's taunting.

Amuse me!
What — you think this is fancy?
What's wrong with wanting something?
Just because some are powerless... it's raunchy?
Distrust directs the regime —
look, the balance is burning.

Excited to show them dreams —
flaunty.

Look at that smile.
Look at the face.
Full of surprise,
sharp with the gaze.

Oh! You're blushing.
Excuse me — my breaching tendency.
You're beautiful.
And shy.
That's... compelling.

I wish you'd stay that way.
But —
the farther we go,
the greater the dismay.

Subdue this malice.
Subtly play.
If you want the prize...
you gotta pave the way.

I hate it when you're bamboozled,
procrastinating as you sway.
Can't you just stop being a wuss?
Even forecasters have their days.

But in this dance of defiance...
let courage lead the way.

Shatter the chains of conformity.
Let authenticity — stay.

For in each rebellious heartbeat,
a revolution brews with a glaze.

Even a meek-looking fuzz
can become
a blasting,
blazing
wave.
                                                             -Asher Graves
Was scrummaging through some old notes and found a poem I wrote two years ago. Thought I’d share it here—funny how words from the past can still echo in the present.
always feelin’
overwhelmed,
stressed—

heart’s gonna
break,

brain won’t
shut off,

so you can’t
fall asleep
and forget.

is this a test?

why does the
world
treat you this way?

you’ve come
so far, but
you find yourself

lying awake
at night—

convincing yourself
that everything’s
gonna be alright.

you’ve gone so
numb, you need
just one reason

to keep going.

because you’re
one step closer
to breaking

than making it
through another day.

let this haunt you—
this rough
journey

isn’t what
you make it
out to be.

the path’s only
less traveled

when you go
alone.

but with time,
the sun will
rise—

light will
touch the road,
and show you

where to go.

so let this haunt you—
and carry on.
inspired by slaves’ “let this haunt you.”

this one’s for the people who lie awake, wondering if they can keep going.
sometimes the past doesn’t let go—but you still can move forward.
****** Leaves My System

Others — white and dark —
Order their coffee in environmental mugs.
You don’t get stars,
Only reused syringes.

****** leaves as joy —
A nub with no shadow.
Trauma’s shadow is bright white
In my pipe.

Who says addicts are unclean?
I scrape my pipe and cooker,
Shockingly clean.
I don’t get anything.
UC tomorrow —
Do you sleep sound?

The rush — excitement.
Why wrap so tight?
Don’t break the crack in the pipe.
Sounds like joy.
Smoke fills my lungs.
Yet I get nothing.
In burning light,
Where was my life?
Vapor fills the room.
Oh, there’s a feeling —
I’m content.
How about you?

Could you ***** yourself a hundred times
Just to feel a little?

Stop — there’s blood in the needle.
You think an ****** is good?
You’ve never seen blood mixed with life in a needle.
Trust me — don’t try.
You miss all the shots you don’t take.
Ones you don’t take can’t **** you.

I wish they would —
The ones that hit hurt more than the ones that miss.
Well, ask him:
******, needle, arm —
The true holy trinity.

Just ask Jesus —
Blood of Christ, blood of an addict,
Redeem me.

Needle exchange —
Well, I need a life exchange.
Maybe something sharper.
Sorry, I meant to say spare change.
Mr. Selfish loves himself
He doesn't care about anyone else
All he does is spew spew spew
About how much better he is than you

Mr. Selfish is a liar
He doesn't care if your mind is on fire
All he cares about is himself
And couldn't give a **** about anyone else

Mr. Selfish pretends to be sweet
He fools everyone into thinking there's nothing to defeat
If you are hurt he wouldn't cry
In fact he'd laugh wish you'd die

Mr. Selfish is my name
I am evil and I am insane
All I care about is myself
Everyone else can go **** themself.
narcissistic episode
kohu 1d
reaping of pure white flesh.
innocent, ungrown.
lying through crooked teeth, grey hair.

bile rising.
utter disgust flowing through tense veins.
livid blood drips at a memory.
I ******* hate you I ******* hate you, you breathing pile of disappointing human filth
Aurora 5d
Here I am, struggling through the battle of life,
Fighting the monsters that live inside me.
I’m tired — I want to give up, I want to run.
But their ****** laughter still echoes in my head.
Every wound they gave still bleeds, the pain still fresh.
Something inside whispers, “Let go,” but now I see—
It was never me. It was their curse that clung to me.

Here I am, waging wars I was never meant to fight,
Bleeding from wounds I should never have carried.
The pain still knocks me down, again and again.
I escaped their grip the first time I spread my wings—
But why did I have to flee?
When my angels left, I had no one left to turn to.
My cries for help were drowned by the devil’s laughter.
I watched my angels bow to the dark — and hope abandoned me.

Here I am, looking back at the wreckage of my path,
Their voices still echo, loud in my mind.
All the pain, all the memories fuel this rage—
My heart, twisted, filled with hate.
My broken mind hates the one I love,
And loves the ones I wish I didn’t.
So I built a fortress around my heart,
Forged in hate, it shields me from life.

Now I’m alone—surrounded, but alone.
I want to break free.
But now I realize…
I have become my own captor.
And escape feels impossible.

But still, I’ll try.
I’ll keep going.
Because I can’t give up now.
Sasha 5d
Red was my loved ones,
Orange my crazy ones,
Yellow my own self wonder.

Green was my choices,
Blue was my non-positive voices,
Purple my own self ponder.

But when mixed together,
Brown is the new found better, of dead dreams and feelings gone to waste.

So be unlike me,
Find who you truly see, and maybe,
Just maybe, you won't end on both knees.
Sasha 5d
Lying? Crying? Overall inquiring?
I liked myself but I loved you!
Now every breath gets questioned, perception?

Am I seeing the truth?
The heartache, anger!
You were my anchor, keeping me down on this earth.

But now my learning equals self preserving.
By questioning my own self worth.
But one thing to remember,
Even after our adventure.

It's my fault that I ever loved you.
They cheered for them—
moms with cameras, dads with proud eyes—
I stood alone,
four medals in my hands,
three gold, one silver,
like they meant something.

I ran fast today.
I always do.
People say it’s talent.
My stepmom says
it’s because I like running from my problems.
She laughs when she says it.

She doesn’t know—
I run
because when I run,
the pain stays behind
for a while.

No blades.
No pills.
Just breath and burning legs
and the sound of my heart
trying to beat louder than the thoughts.

I crossed every line first
but still came last
in the only race that mattered—
the one where someone waits
at the end.

Sometimes I wonder
what it would feel like
to look into the crowd
and see someone who looks like love.
To have someone call my name
like it meant home.
I wish I had that kind of family—
the kind you don’t have to earn.
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