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Trying to be a few rays of light
And a shade from blinding light.
Trying to be a part of the solution
Though it's easy to unwittingly
Contribute to the pollution.
By the sheer fact of being human
We can at times and by turns
And at the same time be
Culprit and victim
Survivor and casualty.
©2017 Daniel Irwin Tucker
Hannah Jul 2017
I was born to this world
backwards.
I hold so much love in my heart,
but seldom give it away.
I tuck it beneath my ribcage,
to keep the wolves at bay.

I wake each morning
to the promise of a coming day,
and hold my breath,
as the moon slowly fades away.

I am made of
whiskey & cigarettes,
mixed with
moonlight & moonshine.

I can light up the midnight sky,
or burn down the city lights.
❤︎
Ella Alvarez Jun 2017
they say
to love
would be
an illogical
pursuit,

but loving
you, my dear,
is the most
logical thing
i'd ever do.

-e.a.
Devin Jun 2017
Do you still believe in the 4th of July
Or did you have enough firework nights
To grow reason and fatigue
All the peripheral damage
Cast to the aesthetic of days
Lost in cyclical episodes

Are we the sum of all parts
Or the spacial matter we accept
Sorting about reason and fatigue
Replacing one for the other
To detox the frailty of erosion
Spun in proverbial orbs

Yield to content at your own accord
Catch the dying light of days
As it bows to tomorrow
Is the sun the same
Does the moon change beyond shape
Your paradox thoughts spin
With the rotation of clocks
Virginia Kasmi May 2017
As empty as you feel when your headphones are on
and no music is playing.
As full  as a heart can be,
full enough to hear its beating like the noice a traffic  light makes,
while you are waiting for it to switch from red to green.
As full as lungs filled with air but still...
you feel like you are not able to breathe.


Longing to pour it all out,
to shout it out loud until your throat hurts
like it does after singing that one song at a karaoke bar.

But your lips remain sealed
and words stuck between thoughts.
Thoughts so loud,
you can't even remember the sound of your voice anymore.

As hopeless as the thick air on that 1st January morining
when you walk down the empty streets,
knowing this isn't a new beginning.
As quiet as the big city life seems
when you are lying ****** on the ground
with the right people around.

As painful as not being able to tell
if you are made out of atoms
or just a concept.
As surreal as feeling alive.

I could be more like milk and honey,
but I'm somewhere between nothing and affection
just like water and oil.

Everything i reach out for,
everything i touch,
becomes water and oil.
Mixed up,
but yet still separate.
Never one.
Not even when you get as close,
as two people can be in this world.
When you are burning holes on each-others
skins and souls.

As messy as hair after world-crashing ***.
As complicated as the ability to understand that emotions
are artificial paradises.
As strong as your longing to puke your brain out.

As hard as not being able to...
Miss Clofullia May 2017
Imagine the worst soccer team in the world.
Now go deeper
and try to picture every single player.

I bet you think they're all ******, talentless ******, right?

WROOONG!

They are the most talented and witty players
on the crippled face of this earth,
each of them with 2 or 3 MVP titles in their pocket.

They are so good as individuals
that make a terrible team.

and, on top of that,
you get to be the goalkeeper.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGE9Gi0bB0
Nicole Raymond Apr 2017
My heart beats wild and without rhythm
as your tender fingerpads brush
my embered cheeks.

Yet I want to claw the skin you touch
til my face is set ablaze with blood.

I yearn for the blood burn of your lips
at the base of my neck,
breath warm and sweet as tea.

Though I grip my neck in despair,
choking that you cannot love me.

Every time I catch your gaze,
tensions rise from the pit of my being
like freed birds.

Still my eyes run as late spring rivers
as your tongue cuts me like fresh poultry.

My mind flurries with crisp thoughts of you,
each gentle and pure as fresh snowfall.

Nonetheless, I can only endure
the blue-limbed blizzard of self-loathing and blame
that should not be mine.

Toes curl in ecstasy
like vines in bright sunlight as we become one,
how I always dreamed.

Now my dreams turn to nightmares
as my blistered toes carry me mindless through
the desert of complete isolation.

My own warm fingers brush your face,
down the slow ***** of your nose
to the petals that are your lips.

However, they hover,
hesitant,
unsure that the frame they grace
contains the paradox I love.
Àŧùl Apr 2017
Though I suspect that I won't die easily,
I won't try to get killed ever for dear life.

Though I have no one except my parents,
I will live for them - for myself this life.

At least till they are alive.

After they are gone,
My jijiwisha will vanish.

And I will simply choose to perish.
My HP Poem #1482
©Atul Kaushal
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