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The house she grew up in
Is written in her heart
A decaying castle in EDSA
Separated from others
By the torrents of the road

The orange glow of its afternoons
Is the glow of her mind and body
Its rooms replicated in the way she talks
She moves and makes friends

Like the triune God
Which emanates from who?
Theodora or the house?
fee Jun 30
living in two different tales
telling two different lies
he asked
who am I?
I can't answer
there's no lies to begin with
it's just me
with my various trait
Alexa Genesis Jun 13
decision makes action decide what fate we will belong
behavior makes people judge who we are
reason makes us decide what choice we have
personality is who we are
brandy Jun 10
they say that when you grow close
to another person
you receive a piece of them
into your own heart
no matter if they leave you
or if they stay until the day you die
i feel i've encountered
too many personalities
in my lifetime short yes
i just don't think i can handle
any more surgery
on my wounded soul
for now i can't tell
where my foundation stops
and where the patchwork begins
will i ever be able to view myself
without only seeing the parts that others have stitched into my soul?
A pearl encased in a grotesque shell.
An unknown beauty.
Oculi Apr 17
With nothing to see and nowhere to be,
With no one to be and nowhere to go:
Empty, like the meaning of the spring dew
Dissipating, hundreds of pieces, scattered
Individual voids waiting upon a cue
To become what they embody, fettered.
A field of unquiet quietness, occasionally
interrupted by a single, awful tone.
What existence is this exigence?
Unknowable, unspeakable, unending:
Pain is what it is.

The dew knows not why it's stepped on,
Ending its momentary nature
Only to crop up tomorrow and be none
The foot becoming again its berater.
And so it goes until the summer,
with the cruel months behind it.
The skull becomes and beckons
Back into nihil.
But there's too many things to see, places to be
Too much to be and too many places to go
For to be one is to be many and the dew tires.
Written earlier in April. Inspired by T.S. Eliot.
B-rich Dec 2020
If I can’t be myself

I’d rather be nobody at all

I don’t want to be

Society’s puppet doll
Who knows the way of love & what it holds
It's kinda filled with confusion
Convinced by words, we fall in wholeheartedly
Betrayed by personality, we fall out with a broken soul
Katie Feb 8
Nobody loves
The fat girl.

Nobody loves
Stretch marks and body rolls,
Double chins and chubby cheeks.

Nobody loves
The 5'5" average,
130 at lightest, 170 at heaviest.

Nobody loves
L or XL shirts,
Size 12 skinny jeans.

Nobody loves
The ugly girl.

Nobody loves
Old scars and open scabs,
Acne and moles.

Nobody loves
Frizzy hair and unshaven legs,
Chewed nails and chapped lips.

Nobody loves
No makeup or concealer,
Maybe lipstick on a good day.

Nobody loves
The outcast.

Nobody loves
Socially awkward,
Happiest when alone.

Nobody loves
Religion and politics,
Outspoken and blunt.

Nobody loves
Outdated interests,
Stimming and rambling.

Nobody loves
A girl like me.

And I think I understand why.
If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that nobody loves a girl with more flaws than benefits. I am a flawed girl, and it's all I'll ever be.
Anemone Feb 1
I am words
I am notes
I am castles
I am moats
Who am I?
I can’t seem to die
There are parts of me
No one else can see
One for creativity
One for tragedy
One for the songs I sing
One for everything
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