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jia m 20h
i have a lot of friends,
they make me laugh and cry,
but why do i still feel alone?
i want to find out why.
Twisting turning through life sometimes seen through others eyes

Living in recovery, injuries that can't be seen, but felt so deeply, crushing my soul and deflating my heart.

Forgiving, feeling, thinking clearly, seeing light and its warmth touching every part.

To see you pains me like I was right at the start, thoughts creep in weaken me like fall leaves under a strong breeze.

I tell myself I'm better now far from those days when you had me on my knees begging and pleading like everything's my fault.

That's over now.
Love that touches your heart so deeply you drown in it gasping for air to find it your left with a confused heart destroyed torn apart... rebuild yourself make it new... what else is there to do?
Rich 4d
You ask me if I’ve tasted defeat
I’ve swallowed it whole and the digestion resulted in apprehension to any path I can’t crawl my way through

It’s ironic
the brain travels three thousand miles per minute
even as the body sits as still as Ice Age mountains
so my solution is to taste victory on golden platters in a dream sequence
the pattern is seamless
I’ve learned about suffering but would never teach it
A man like me could never lead, despite the absence of light that follows

but enough about aorta chambers left hollow, tell me of your timeline
what have you tasted
what has life left in your wallet
in your bed side
in your lungs
in your goodbyes
in your smiles
tell me what you know of reality and the singularity, our humble beginnings
tell me anything to distract me from the hours, the minutes, the seconds and every inch of my taste buds.

I am alone inside of you,
While being alone inside of me,
I am alone inside of everyone,
Who has ever met me!

Me, who is me,
Is he the me inside of you,
Or the me inside of me,
Could he be the me inside of anyone,
Who has ever met me?

But there is no me, or even you,
No single individual,
Can really be true,
When they are created by the minds,
Of really quite a few.
There are many versions of you, but none of them are really true!
Many questions have been raised on my nature
The most of them by myself, but also by the people;
The funny thing in the huge number the questions assume:
They can be answered by one word: Vacuum.

From those questions, some may please me
Like "What art are those that may lead thee?"
Or "What limit has been reached by your knowledge?";
They are rare but I like when I'm asked on my storage.

While there are questions I barely like
Like "Why are you a person whom we barely like?"
Or "Why are you so different and not alike?";
Let's answer them by a single strike:

My nature is like the nature's nature:
There's no place where's no creature;
So, what I'm fighting is what the nature's fighting,
Where is darkness there must be lighting:

Vacuum, I'm all fulfilled with emptiness,
If there's ten planets I need a twentieth,
I wish to fulfill my eager to be fulfilled
Even if by the pressure of that knowledge I'll be killed.
Karmish A Oct 5
If you'd ask, what's on my mind right now
I'll honestly answer that its you
But you never asked
You never wondered
So i guess that answers my question
Have you ever
I'm a poet already -
So why would I care,
How poetry is itself?
So why would I care,
About anything, but myself?

I've got the power -
The best pens are looking for my order,
The words are bowing afore me one by one,
The paper serve me as faithful recorder,
Meanwhile, they're followed up only by one.

I'm one, one of you -
My babbles are coming from your room,
Your parents forbid me to talk as the street,
Your schools lent me books to consume,
It was your friend who read my first sheet.

I'm no one anymore -
You people kept acting after the school,
Turning cool movies of business and household,
Meanwhile, I observed what you name cool,
Having several lives written in colours and bold.

You are a poet as well -
You only need to open your eyes ajar,
Leave a comment, show me how you care,
Mellow your world and serve up in a jar,
To let us, your brothers taste if you dare.

We are a nation, mate -
We were born just as every Earthlings,
None of us was born in flames like dragons,
But we share as well magical-noble things;
To respect each other's opinions sans dictums.

Tho, I'm your poet -
I thank you people a thousand times,
For giving me a world and cause to write,
Your different colours feed my rhymes,
Without you, they would be mute, lucite.
For the one who has no rest from tempest to tempest,
What does the word mean: summer?
What does the word mean: winter or weather?
Would he believe ever that there's a good weather?
Would he believe in warmness and sunshine or any similar form,
Or rather, would he see them as the lull before the storm?
Wouldn't he see the sun as hiding new tortures?
Wouldn't he hide under a tempest's cloak as turtles?
Saying: Oh Sweet Home, I know you and you know me,
Oh Sweet Roar, Thunder and Rain; follow me.
My ever question as a poet:
Whether the world is providing me all those imaginary words
Like sitting next to my room window's fantasies-
Or rather, reality is just the jail of my real world,
And my words are just the sunshine for me, behind the bars.
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