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There is another thing that the sky is covering up to, parallels are invisible strings that connect us.

You are a myth that the muses talk about,
they tell me how far the stars
that I wouldn't reach you
and how I wander my hands on my brokenness.
It was the traces of how beautiful the blue in your eyes
and the memories of red lanterns
lighting up our way home,
I feel the terror of we might forget
the sound of the eerie cold night.

Parallels are constellations in the skies as if we are remnants of history,
Each night we wished we exist.
From the warm breath of bright light,
blue sky breaks through our dormancy.
Cool breeze still keeps on bare air,
whilst curved lines rise bound in time
to care for the meaning of life.

We're expected to expand or contract,
responding to vast constructs set upon us.
It's easy to forget measures of the present tense.
Stillness often corrects parallels to connect, as impulses bubble up to ****** inside the mind.

Characters unseen play amongst the set,
there are integrated games we gain but our existence is said to be simplistic.
Focus on your sense of self and betterment, less complicated within the riddles of preconditioning.
Here to give, win and begin again.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
I do not exist,
Not in the way
The world insists;
The whole bar chatters
Some probably can’t even register
The words that spill,
Like the drinks and the chips;
They don’t really matter,
And yet I speak,
Not knowing anything
But to fill,
A murky darkness
Of whiskey and thrumming beats.
I do not exist,
As the world fades;
It had no colour
As it was dead,
I realise water
doesn’t look like anything
While in standstill;
When it has nothing other
but itself to fill;
Water is nothing
It doesn’t exist,
Just the way
I don’t seem to exist
For I have ceased to persist.
Writers Block ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Rachel Spell Nov 2020
in another universe
we have what we want.
no one can stop us there.
let's picture it.

in another universe
our hearts aren't tethered
to poisonous mistakes.
let's imagine it.

in another universe
we remain our true selves,
no barrier of judgement.
let's dream it.

in another universe
things make more sense,
where we don't live lies.
let's make believe.

-- r.s.
in a parallel universe...
Emma Jan 2020
When the world said I’d made a choice, I agreed
Because you are the one, I’ll always choose
A place the roses are white, and doves red
No matter in which parallel universe, you’re the one I’ll kiss
Though if I could move away, I’d look beyond the furthest star
As in this place, you’re the one I’ll always lose
Outside tonight the doves are white, and roses red
In this parallel we’re the shooting star, that’ll forever miss
newpoetica Feb 2019
i'm in too deep
so maybe i should just take a leap,
a leap of faith in which i let go.
and maybe take control,
speak through my heart and soul.
speak through my heart and soul to say three words back to you,
i want you.
this is inspired by a song by the band, why don't we.
Lynnia Jul 2018
Eight is the number we share in years
A quiet plea, she hardly hears
This is where the magic ends
Giggling with her other friends
Eight is the number we share in years
Alone, I’m drowning in my tears.
The climactic ****** of this series.
Meg B Oct 2017
I've scrapped the first
fifteen versions of a poem
I don't want to write or
maybe I want to write it but I'm
afraid I won't like it or
am I just afraid of what I might
say,
of what my subconscious will
convey?

Ink drying up like dried blood
while the blood in my veins
pulsates and my
head throbs as I try to decipher
how much of what has happened
to me is actually because
of me.

Is it me?
Are my experiences mine because
I made them so,
or did I happen to just
stumble into the darkness?

A sour mashup of
self-love and self-loathing,
it's like I have two minds intertwined
double-analyzing double helix
radioactive brain DNA

Am I great? Am I awful?
Am I even worthy of such extremes?
Where are all the adjectives to
describe me?
Can I write about it if
it changes daily?
Is it possible to know yourself perfectly and
also not at all?

Questions generating more
questions,
hypothesizing Eye
must seek before
I find.
maxime Dec 2016
Deer leap clear across the field
Elegant and graceful,
Beautiful and limber.
The beauty of the open grass,
the feeling of freedom,
outweighs the threat of danger.

The hunter stalks his prey,
hidden by the the grasses.
The very grass that lures the deer to freedom,
also leads the deer to it's death.
The hunter is filled with power,
arrogance filling the hole virtues left.

He takes his aim.
He shoots.

The once limber deer is dead.
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