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Do not let anger consume you when someone lies to you,
We all lie.
In the first place we lie to ourselves.
Actions speak louder they say, and that's true.
Before you realise a certain lie, you avoided the truth through actions,
We sometimes turn a blind eye, and when things become too big to be hidden we decide to see.
When someone lies to you, you lied to yourself first. For not being true to yourself and turning a blind eye.

People lie to us because we lie to ourselves in the first place. We want to see things as we wish they were not as they actually are.
И не ценивший потерявши плачет.
Сидя над пропастью надежд.
И много накопилось слов, так и не сказавших вслух.
И потерявший так горюет, над болью и утратой в слух.
Когда все то что у него в руках когда то было.
Все просто привратилось в прах и в пух.
And not appreciating lost crying.
Sitting over a precipice of hope.
And a lot of words accumulated that never said out loud.
And the loser is so grieving over pain and loss of hearing.
When everything that was in hands once was.
Everything just turned to dust.
Poetry is a closet.
It’s a hideaway for some
An escape for others
A road to get out of town
You can spill your darkest secrets without the fear of another knowing
In the darkness, you feel safe
Maybe it’s your way to Narnia
Or whatever other enchanted lands you want to visit
Poetry could even be your way to escape the closet
Telling people your secrets in cryptic ways they can’t understand
The darkness hides you from the judgment of others
You can write in peace
And the only person who can unlock the door is you
oh hi it's been a while
She's the left and right ventricles of his heart,
Inseparable affection leads him to
Her magnetic amorous forces...
Affiliated to his instincts
But attracted to her.

She's has everlasting irresistible feel and touch,
Her magnetic amorous forces,
Still pulls him towards her enduring soul.
His heart makes no sense when,
His mind is made up and magnetise by her...
All signs point to depression, and side effects of depression may include talking to those skeletons in your closet at 4am when you dream about her. Again.

Talking to ghosts isn't scary or bad, mostly it's just sad, because she's still alive and you act like she's dead. She's not dead. she's just not in your life anymore.

It's been two and a half years since we last talked, and I'm sure I can reach out or find a friend of a friend who maybe knows where you are.

But I won't.

Because the same reasons that drove you away, drive me to stay where I have been for the last three years.

I have grown up, but I have not moved on, I'm just loftier and believe that I can die happy because maybe I changed a half-dozen lives for the better. But I can't prove that.

I'm not suicidal, but I still keep that shotgun barrel at the back of my mouth just to keep myself hostage to the past. To the memories.

So I stay away.

Because I'm stuck.

My mind likes to divide instead of multiply, then compartmentalize all the things I want to say. But Rationalization clears it's throat and speaks in a somber way.

"You died that day you threw your love away. Your words do not matter, anymore."

I check the time; it's 4am. Here we go again.
//On her//
There is veracity in our vernacular,
Rhythm in our rhetorics,
This power that I speak of,
Lies only with the poets.
For all of you lovely people, the world needs more of you!
A tear rolling down my face and I don’t even notice.
I’ve been all alone this time and I hope that you know this.
By my lonesome I was staring in the distance.
All I truly felt was that time was you getting more distant.
Other than that I feel pretty numb.
Not even frightened anymore of what’s to come.
Lost myself along the road to this.
Leaning into nothing for that final kiss.

And as you look that nothing deep in the eyes.
You realise all had already been erased from her mind.
- N.N.
You can tell the world is ending,
It takes a window to notice.
What's the use
of writting love poems, then?

We write love poems
because love won't save us,
but someone oughta save love.
i’m lost

i’ve finally caught up
with that wide eyed girl
who turns away when i look in the mirror
searching for meaning in cracked glass

reflections of an abused past;
they haunt my day to day life
shadowy figures lurk in gloomy alleyways
cause me to flinch, relive my pain

so i find it easier
to tuck myself away, safe inside
hide from the demons and shy from the light
lie about my emotions, ignore my own plight

and the blanket that hides me
is torn by the seams
as i torch my own dreams
and all that they mean

choking for air in a fog of memory
i grip tightly to old habits
and they do die hard
turn self sabotage into a form of art

create fragile beauty

shroud it in misery

shroud it in me

hide the false promise of who i hoped to be
live the ongoing lie that is now my reality
cos if they ask how i’m doing
if they can’t really see

i’ll answer them with

‘i’m fine, leave me be’
had a down day, vented on some digital paper
moon 1d
you.
oh god, you.
i used to write about how you looked like a flower and how the way you loved me was like stars being born over and over again.
and for a while it was all you were, all we were,
explosions of lust,
of what i thought was love being created between us.
i picked flowers for you and wrote for you over and over again.
i liked it when you pet my head and held my hand.
i loved it when you told me you loved me.
you loved it when i was on my knees for you,
hugging you and practically kissing the ground you walked on.

but you hurt me.
you stole from me and pushed thorns into my skin,
thinking i would let you.
but i couldn't.
the star exploding sounded like cars crashing now
and the flowers i gave you left me with ****** and spots of blood on my hands.
what was pink was now gray and i couldn't believe you did it.
i said, "no,
don't hurt me,
you hurt me.".
you acted like you cared.
you told me you didn't mean to but i saw the look in your eyes when you told me what you did,
when you did what you did.
i knew what you felt and you didn't' even have to say it.

you told me to come back when i forgave you, if i ever could.
and i wanted to so badly.
i wanted to personally take out the thorns and wrap bandages around my heart.
but i couldn't go back.
i didn't want to anymore.
i was afraid of your true self and i wanted nothing to do with it.
so i stayed away.
what a waste?
months and month of loving you.
giving you everything i should have been giving myself.

not even a week later you found someone new.
my heart ripped open the bandages and bled and bled and bled.
you.
you stole from me and hurt me.
i told you and you left.
you never apologized and that's what hurt most.
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