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a paragraph, written a million times
doesn't remain the same cause the words
are constantly changing themselves,
and you are as well.
a fire that burns through the night
may seem bleak compared to the brightness
of a brand new sunrise,
but at the end of the day
it's not the amount of light that counts
but the strength to survive again.
and people are not some constructs
to be created and disassembled at whim.
they have their own voices
and their own incredible stories to tell,
and you do as well.
When I looked at the night sky, I felt a deep sense of loss.

The stars, were too far away.

I packed jars into the fridge, so that they preserve all I have left when I come back.

It was a plague, a silence, that followed and sputtered life and people were scared.

But I got to see you. Goodbye.

And when I got back, I starved with little I had.
Khoisan Apr 18
North, South, East, West.
A bad brother
automatically abused
a drunk father
fundamentally removed
a twisted sister
consciously refused
a dead mother
genetically re-used
by people
who eat people,.
Kings and Queens
of the Zombiglobe.
maria Apr 12
Some people remind me of a campfire,
a source of eclectic senses:
the smoky wood,
the evolutionary fascination of the flame,
the warmth and chill of a starry night.

Others remind me of a snow day in grade school,
a source of jittery incongruence:
the sprinkles of white,
the disruption of monotonous school work,
the mischief of nature coming to the rescue.

You remind me of an early morning rain,
a source of calm melancholy:
the soft droplets on leaves,
the lessened saturation from the overcast,
the heightened realization and contentment of one's existence.

The essence of people
epitomized as scenes and collective experiences;
it is not so much of what it is
but rather how it makes you feel.
I finally realised that I could breathe,
but while I was drowning,
I realised that you would eventually run out of it.
It's a game of perceptions,
Yours for mine,
Mine for yours,
But put it into perspective,
Observe from a distance,
React less and listen,
Strike One, forgive,
Strike Two, observe,
Is it a pattern with you?
Strike three and I annihilate.
That's how I operate now.
Have no energy for drama.
So keep mulling alone.
I am not listening anymore,
Only observing and perceiving,
To keep you away from my world.
Strike three and you are out!
Done giving those extra chances!
Styles Mar 25
Entwined in each other's eyes, lost in desire,
My passion standing, I, consumed by fire.
Styles Mar 25
After a 10hr drive home,
home alone, mind in that zone
with bubbles, tunes and some self therapy

Hands between her thighs,
Rolling her eyes, as she enjoys
her throws of passion and moment of relaxation .
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