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silvervi Jan 6
What is true surrender?

How to stop fighting?
I only know the why.
My heart is aching
Because I try and try and try ...

Constantly starving myself
From love
Permanently thinking
That I am not enough

"Oh my poor self"
This is self-pity
"Why can't I be as
Beautiful or pretty?"

"This is so selfish
You're superficial"
This is the judging voice
Sounds like an official

"Making yourself dependent
On looks. On other's opinions,
On not your own truths"

"Of course, you know best"
-that's the submissive one.
Digging deeper a knife
Into one's own throat.

"Whatever it takes
I will express myself"
-this is the fighter,
Not giving up.

"We need to stop,
This is too much"
The fearful voice
Afraid of touch,

"Uh you're so pathetic"
That's the *******,
Self-hurt multiplies
When it arrives.

"Let's do this again!"
The optimistic tone,
And there's the naive one
"I'm in, yes, yes, yes!"

"You can't be serious"
The everlasting anger
Trying to diminish
Whatever one thinks

And disappointment
Arises and lingers
In the air,
One is thrown into mist.

"I am so lost. I cannot see"
That's overwhelm
Coming over me.

This is where all the voices at once
Scream at me, talk to me,
Not one by one.

And overbearing with the emotion
One starts to drown in the dark and deep ocean,
Foggy the vision, nasty the mind,
One deeply lost, blurry and blind.

"Now are we satisfied?"
That's the expectation,
To make something outstanding
Out of every creation.

"Nah, could be better"
The perfectionist,
Trying to please...
Forgetting ease.

"My chest is burning"
Hypochondria churning,
Maybe the pressure is
Simply too much.

"You're so incapable!"
The inner critic,
Makes one feel hateful
Towards oneself.

"Wow, that's a lot"
Finally self-compassion,
Emerging slowly,
Comes into action.

"Burning" - exhaustion,
The energy released
And the heat in the body-
Increased.

"Is this awareness? What's my next step?"
Carefully wondering,
Still full of regret,
This is distrust,
Losing patience fast...

Helplessness howls,
Fear kicks in deeper,
"I think I can't breath,"
Anxiety croaks.

"When will it end?"
I ask and reply:
"It will not end,
Until I die."
Observing what is happening in the mind in an overwhelmed state.
silvervi Dec 2024
I am projecting
My self-rejecting
Onto other people

This harmless action
Destroys connection
All in my brain
A habit contained

Now realizing
Awareness sings
Let's liberate
Don't be afraid

Fears are surreal
Anxiety's real
People are mirrors
Of how I think and feel
On the train. Realizing this - there is nothing to be afraid of. I don't know what others think of me. And why should they think the worst imaginable thing at all? Just because my inner critic is so harsh and doing its job so well: criticizing. 😉 Whenever we recognize our inner critic we should be grateful and happy. 🙏✨🎄 Merry Christmas
Mark Wanless Mar 2023
at this time i am
ignorant of observer
and empty of am
neth jones Mar 2022
i govern an idling heart                                                            ­    
doomingly glazey
won't lift a care                    but won't swat no fly either
maintains functional        with the safety hitched on
observes the public goings and fro-ings            
                           without discrimination
but offers no service                          
             no aid            
and no addition

docile         and folded         and dormant of view
in a world-scape kniving to be brighter                                                   
                                           more memorable and avidly self dominant
                             i am a skiving witness

the older i get the more this approach                  
                                           is not an easy one
i observe a neighbour bully about his kids                 
using jest rewards between shouting them to heel
and cuffing them violent
i observe a lady place her friend                                  
                                      with a simple remark
('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child
it's nice to remember that')
i observe war retread on the screen                                      
i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.          

human spoil seen now ;         
        it draws pity, pain and longing
i am not devoid                        
                                  ­     despite much practice          
  some involvement on my part
                                             may be due
Faeryn Sep 2020
There's a stranger in my head and the mirror
i know its not me
there's no way that its me
glazed eyes staring back
pale skin, cried for days
its not me
i'm watching someone else's life
ghosting
or sometimes i wonder if i exist
there's a part of reality i can't find
has anyone else realized life doesn't exist
we could run away and never cone back
whatever we do doesn't matter
i'm a ghost that sees farther than the sky
i feel trapped in an open daze
w h e r e a m i
dissociation at its finest
Tony Tweedy Jul 2020
Why is it do you suppose that as a species we have been given the senses to perceive, be curious of and bear witness to fourteen billion years of the wonders of the Universe.... yet we have not the common-sense to know or be assured of our own tomorrow?

Somewhere out there it is quite possible that intelligent life exists... but it certainly isn't us.
We pave the way to our own extinction and go on oblivious to the road we take. Who will find our bones as fossils when the next dominant species evolves?
Will the Universe even allow us to be remembered thus?
arsonpoet Jun 2020
The taste of true wine,
isn't the one that makes you,
paint crimson skies in your life,
when clouds of benevolence and doom,
control the cup of life.

The true taste of wine,
Is naive and benign.
It undresses your soul,
and tangles with your language.
until you find the truths,
you never had the courage to stumble on.
The true taste of wine,
often makes you the magician,
by living your life with you,
But making your realise there's always more.
To be done, felt and lived.
There is always more to melancholy,
as there is, to the language of the lips.
The perception matters as it always will. The observer often undermines little things that when understood change big lives.
Broken Pieces Apr 2020
I wish I was able to watch the world from afar,
I could just be in the sky like a star.
I don't want to live life with others, it hurts,
I'm so tired of the people who claim to be experts.
I wish life didn't have to be so hard,
I don't want to keep guard.
I want to be happy all the time,
Instead I'm wondering who committed the crime.
I want to be at peace,
But I'm torn piece by piece.
Life just flat out stings,
We're all just trying to spread our wings.
I don't want to be apart of this time zone,
Because I know I'll just end up alone.
Olivia Dec 2019
He plays for himself, and
For the Danube.
Alone, on a field of stairs
He sits with brass on his lips
In the purgatorial wilderness between
The roiling streets and the
Roiling water. He can touch neither, and
He is both. The sound does not carry.

Why is he on the edge? Why on
The seventh step? Why here? Why
Now?

Who used to sit beside him?

For whom did he used to play?
Mark Wanless Nov 2019
not a leader but
sideline observer
happy revelation
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