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Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2023
One billion stories
With thousands of pages filled
Are we but paper?
Everything is temporary
ag Aug 2023
I always write every thoughts and every words that would come up in my head on any of my blank pages.

But this time, I stopped writing my thoughts and had not touched my blank pages anymore.

Because, I’m afraid I’ll write about you again.
Savio Fonseca Aug 2023
My Time has not yet arrived,
So I'm staying a bit Longer.
My Health has not yet cracked,
perhaps I'm a little bit Stronger.
My Mind still keeps on ticking
and it's it can Be.
I've so many things, yet to Do.
For now, I'm a Sailor out at Sea.
My Life keeps on turning,
like the Pages of a Book.
But the Time has not yet come.
For Life to hang Me on a Hook.
I'm wary of the Silent Storm.
That may hit Me during the Night.
I'll fight it like a Braveheart.
Until the Dying Light.
Pr nandni Jan 2022
Sometimes it's better to leave the pages BLANK
Sometimes the BEST is to not EXPRESS everything,
Let your emotions be wrapped beneath TRUST
Put your LOVE on the lap of future,
Let it BORN with peace.

Don't sum yourself up in ONE word,
Just LEAVE the pages blank.
Leave it blank
When I think of life,
I see an empty canvas ready to be painted upon,
or open blank pages that are waiting to be written on.
A baby is born, their first words in a book say;
"where am I?"
"what is this world"
"this is so cool"
or some babies have an anxiety
"bring me back into mothers womb?"
"I' am scared, what is this?"
But as you say, they do not know how to speak our language, maybe not by tongue but in their little cubicle minds...they have a language we once understood then only time could tell....
When I think of life,
I see empty pages and canvases waiting to be spilled onto,
but some art dusty and rusty, gone through 0-100 and have no space left but to die and leave it to the rest, because all those pages have been fulfilled.
Life carries on, into the next barrier of a woman's womb...and that is truly where the first page starts, or the first speck of paint draws...into the ****** of a fruitful woman most babies will call their mother.
Life and death
AMBRIEL Jun 2021
If I give you my book
with all these ripped pages would you risk to read
all of its bittersweet phases?
Would you stay to scribble in the remaining pages?
would you take the time to understand each chapter?
Would you stay and read these worn-out pages?
Even when I'm lost,
I come back here,
to these pages,

I tell them about you; my love,
about me; my lust,
write down my thoughts; my loss,

so even when I'm gone,
you can always,
find me in these pages,

hear my cries; my tears,
share my lies; my fears,
feel my love; my dear.
I live through my poetry.
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, funny how a book can be translated by everyone's Mercury differently--edited;}

on a beauty so mystical on a plastered smile an essence so beam

yet not everlasting not in a bare nor a second tormenting blurt

such stars she begged them Gods for she tormented in a skeptic hurt

she trails her menaces to **** in a drip

of a bordeaux in a wine in a mindless sip

yearning erased letters from people from faces

a charm of a devil monster selfished her feels down her laces

a bound to the intimate

flushed upon the ultimate

of the hate of the ends

an evermore of upcoming pained centuries

moments the gods abide to hide to conceal

from human memory to blank and come across a past life to steal

then to the unconscious to plant on dreams and make souls heal

speechless left

one on the fictional

two on the cure in the weeks my delusional

believed seven constellated freckles pure by the character been held

mooned self-expressionism in sick mind delves I label mine

forever fallen saint on the line

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