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xavier thomas May 2024
Becoming her life
After the hard aches
Brought back
Those inspiring eyes


God gave her a soul with life
Jesus gave her a heart with faith
Parents gave her a home with siblings
I gave her a world with commitment
I always wondered
What is the purpose?
All the written words
An expression of oneself
On a piece of paper
Dotted in black ink
Which makes me feel better
But if often leaves me wondering
What is the purpose?
Maybe a collection of memories
Of what once was
Something important for me
Maybe I know the actual purpose
It is a place for me to heal
No more wearing any mask
And express what I truly feel
Edoardo Alaimo May 2024
Come nebbia,
Nebbia sparsa

Che divien acqua,
Poi torrente,
E poi per sempre

E forte e rapida e turbolenta
Cui vien la vita, la gioia, i colori

Il nostro scopo é
Ma non era niente
A translation of "Like mist"
Eyithen May 2024
I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain

The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?

I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"

How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this

Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most

So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.
Chad Roman Apr 2024
You're an island
that housed beauty many shipments ago
For a drowning soul,
can only be saved by a rush of gold

Treasures of gold, lie hidden bestowed,
Beneath the crater of an old souls bowl

If my heart be the earth,
I'd look for peace
If my death sparked life,
I'd look to leave
And if life had meaning,
What could this be?

If my heart was round, I'd assume the earth fits this mold
Many moons ago it could dare lay low

Darkness fears the light
Like a kid in twilight 
Pondering on quiet times
Spent churning the street fights
If you search and search, eventually you'll get the answer
Edoardo Alaimo Apr 2024
Like mist,
Sparse,

Becoming water,
and then a river,
and going forever

And strong and fast and turbulent,
growing life and joy and colors,

Our purpose is,
and was never.
Very concise poem on existential nihilism

2024-04-04
EA
033124

I told you I would no longer write for you —
That I won’t hide it in series of poetry anymore.
I was old enough
And I know it’s no longer trendy
I write you letters but I don’t send it anyways.

I wanna tell you how much I cared
To let you go as God says so
At first, I was so scared losing you
As if you were “mine”
Though I never had this “thing” with you.

Honestly, I was left with no choice at all —
I thought you’ll wait for me
Just like what you’ve promised.
But maybe words were just empty words.

Hey, I’m sorry that you got tired of me
I was crazy to let you go without even confessing.
You’re too early and I was too late
But it’s kinda unfair
Coz I believed everything you said.

I know I hurt you too
Many times, you told me you’re no longer at peace.
I hated myself for hurting you
But I have to let myself heal and bloom once again.

The connection I had with you was different
I thought I’m already “home” when I’m with you.
But I never had the chance to cherish everything…
It was the last time, but I haven’t said anything.

The pain within me was more than my emotions,
You’re not just a piece of me
But being with you for a short span
Was like staying where I want to be.

I had so many questions in my head —
But the answer I get was you moved on already.
Seeing you around makes me forgive you
And leads me to forgive myself too.

I ain’t perfect —
But this connection has lapsed
And I have to leave this page.
033124

The Joy within me is a flowing river
And I can’t deny the Source.

If I die young —
I’m sure He’ll remember me…
And every anthem of my soul
Shall weave the letters to portray His love.

I consider myself a dust —
One day, I’ll leave this shell
One day, I’m no longer a vessel
But a dust without His breath.

He holds the future I have never imagined,
My plans will always fail without Him
And I know that.
But my faith, it’s unending —
By grace, I shall live…

For today, I’m a vessel of His love,
Tomorrow, I’ll die too
I’ll die and be forgotten
But I hope they remember —
That Jesus lived within me
And that what matters the most
Then my purpose was done.
030724

Per pause, You speak purpose…
Per cause, so much it’ll cost.
David Hilburn Jan 2024
Pontificate
Set to sojourns music...?
And thrown the light of reason, to sate
Weal is a known seeker, of life intrinsic...

Westerly, the face of men
Has a column of seclusion, adding the facts
Of pride before litany's passage, a wisdom's question
Come to pass, with a realer first of lest, we act:

In favor of solemn derision?
The found privilege, has a callous fate
Where we are, the paces and passion of intuition
Hadding the silence we evoke, is a moment come too late?

Hatred, or by excessive gesture, the world?
Place a future of benevolence in front of a child
And the willingness of wishes to give a gift, or take one for
The lips of destined forces, the actual and the meager keep while...

A babyish face has the time, to remember the day as a friend has
Has a shown turn of courage, beginning and ending with cause
Sought the better of you, like a thread of persuasion is to ask
Can the arduousness you describe as a friend, be at odds?

The worth of hosting, a day dream...
Still to fore, the sanity of regency in the name of future loyalty
The winds of omnipresence, have the sense to live well, to deem
The stir of vanity in the lead, the welcome and or the doubted, to be...

A king about the reach and notoriety of views, here is loves vote:
Meant with maying guests, and the hope of virtue to come
With the worth of anger and bother, the vice we hold to fears cope
With the lip of liberty to prove, is our gift to teach its love?
Nothing above the board, and with hands below the table? see fear make a friends fantasy out of you...
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