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T Inkpoem May 2020
This is my poetry persona
I don't own her
She's law unto herself
Meysa May 2020
my mother's trust issues are leaking into my chest
and
my father's tendency to forfeit humans for his solidarity
sometimes
I feel my persona bending to accommodate them
both.
- identity is an oh-so fragile topic
day tripper Apr 2020
funny how time
changes ones persona
snatches time
just to unfold facades
were warned about
mask of destructions
face upfront of lies and
betrayal, only time will
tell when will be its
destruction, a massive explosion
a change for good or for worse
pick which bomb you're
willing to catch
enough to heal you or burn you
till death crawls upon you
like a friend whose trust covered you
like silk that slides through
your insides and cut you
straight out to your guts
ahhh, you'll bleed, silently
painful, at least its here
to cover the wounds your
are afraid to show,
taking its slow
riddance to bid
goodbye, to its familiar
comfort, it took mine
in an instant
swift, unaware
unprepared
went home to find solace in the chaos
just to find out chaos was worse
back in my hometown
sank too deep, drowning
barely breathing
lost control, drank too hard
hard to hear, in a city
that drowned you enough
with the perception of you are home
a bask of sympathy and a whole
lot of crap, thats right
got too fragile
a thin glass face, immerse with hope.
reconnecting seems different
in this era, an exchange of
opinions only they can
dictate, a personal space only them
can invade, a handful of decisions
only them can decide
rage, thats what got to me
but rage in the end will destroy me
peace, its not what your getting
but instead a mirror reflected of the things
that you are actually afraid of
seeking to haunt you in places
your afraid to step foot of
deep, unfiltered
perhaps a decade will
ravel a new character,
stronger and better.
Open Diary Entry 01
Lisa Apr 2020
I starred at my broken mask,
It shouldn’t be such a difficult task,
I should let the world see me for who I really was.
They say scars make us beautiful,
They say be you,
I felt that didn’t ring true,
They say people could read us like books on a shelf,
People didn’t know the real me I said.
My persona was widespread,
I smiled behind a broken assortment of tears,
Held back and caged by fears,
I felt like whoever I was wasn’t enough,
I was never good enough,
Not loved enough,
Not cared for enough,
Not smart enough,
Not beautiful enough,
Not thin enough,
Not understood enough,
Not enough, just not enough.
I just stood there empty,
But half full,
I wanted to dream again,
I wanted to love again,
I wanted to laugh again,
I wanted to feel enough again,
Once again  I wanted my life to be steady,
I wanted to smile at my fears,
I had been hiding for all these years.
This, this is me.
Tonight, I want to fall asleep,
And not crying or upset,
It’s pain I want to forget,
I must confess,
That I want to fall asleep knowing that I’m enough.
:D please leave honest feedback~
JAM Jan 2020
The bar.
New personas,
Rare from near to afar.
Tangling in the smoldering lights,
With haste.
Leal Knowone Dec 2019
Never knowing what you want.
You mean one thing and say another. Longing for attention yet you won't bother.
Bother with honesty, bombarded with hypocrisy.
These are the things my eyes sees. The things my heart feels are real. Feels real to **** the pain inside.
The truth is we both may not know what we want.
Flaunting a fake persona to get what we want.
The information layed out says one thing, and your words another.
blushing prince Sep 2019
An artist too lazy to make any art
So what am I?
The sleepy commitment holding your hand in public places
An enormous gratitude lounging in between spaces with a stain on her shirt
Always seeking to be the next big thing

A stoic
Unable to process any other philosophy
that doesn't kiss me when I'm nervous
Lights turning on in the afternoon
And the warm glow of knowing people are inside
There
Ready to open up the door and invite you into the individual smells that occupy their reality

I am I-don't-remember-the-city-anymore girl
Sterile buildings and antiseptic coast
Are both memory and fiction
I am everything's-sort-of-familiar and yet exactly obscure
A contrarian careful to never admit that everything
Will make sense with enough persuasion
In the corners of my mind sits a woman
Smoothing out creases of my brain like the folds on bed sheets
Or the wrinkles in a shirt
And I allow her to because I love her
And I believe that what she does is affection
And maybe I'm right
Or maybe I'm wrong and I was never an artist
But something else entirely because that's so much easier
PMc Sep 2019
Huh - some hero
a broken man of broken dreams
found crawling from the ditch dredged by strangers
while his own ruination, a physical half-shell
emotional snakes and ladders

Ever courageous through – always the light-hearted of the herd
not quite nerdy but an intellect (of sorts)
a man of letters
sometimes “too many notes”

Poured from the gravy boat of left-overs
the wannabe saviour swims to rescue the damsel
whom he knows will know better
she’s seen his ilk before
all shining armour, will tarnish given time
those cathedral etchings from years gone by
with the sunlight shining from his mouth
spouting poetry from centuries past
nary an original thought will develop from what’s left
of his imagination
dulled by realities of daily news

The saviour has pledged allegiance
an honour to truth both unspoken and said
a respect for taking turns
to laugh, cry or feel nothing sometimes

The damsel knows he can’t make up his mind
about much at all.  

If he can’t save his own life – how the hell will
he ever pretend to prop hers

Huh – some hero.
When we look in the mirror some days - it doesn't shine as brightly as it does on others.  Not a dullness but - reality (?)
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