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Sillva 1d
I write to u in metaphors
As if they were hieroglyphics.
A different langue that I do not speak,
But I write frequently In disguise-
Away from the moon
Where the sun doesn't want to hug the earth.
That's how I begin every day without the light.
Just a blissful word that speaks to my ears to get up.

I have wounder around in my own writings
speaking to people that I dont know.
As for the both of you
I have become more than a stranger
A distant son.
Like a needle in a hay stack.
Wondering if my lips will ever speak out my true feelings.
Figuring out rhymes without a sense of tone,
Because I have surrendered to silence.
An became death to nature.
Have I lost my heart?
Have I been blind to never open up?
I have called my feelings Hiding beneath every word.

As tears shower this paper because I have extended my vocabulary to spell out love.
An I  write what my voice negates to say
"I Love both of you,
An I shall Stay
until my last living breath".

                                                            By E.R.S
Xylos 1d

My ears still find their way
near mouths
who are likely to label me
as Beautiful,

their opinion
makes it
more real;
I doubt my own sincerity
Am I not bound to be
to myself?

Am I?
When half the time
I'm not myself
at all.

I don't got a heart
I got a punching bag
Come and hit it if you with it
It won't make me sad-
As a matter of fact it won't even make mad
Girl I got a punching bag
Rolling down Ocean soon we'll be blunt smoking
Toking, you know that talk that I'm talking
She a stoner like me, yeah she rolling easy
Riding with me for the time being
She has got my heart beating
She has got my bag swinging
I can attack you with a thousand hugs
And Compliments.
I can also attack you
With coldness
Explosive anger
And tears of anguish.
Which one will you be?
I might look
very blissful
and really nice
but deep inside of me
a monster within
like a sealed book
full of mysteries
and the only one
who can open it
i s
m  e
Yours truly, BokxDoc.
Isshi 5d
My demons are friends
That will send me faster to my end
They are my foes
That make want to chop off my toes
'Cause even an idiot knows
That a madman's shriek
Is from the madness peak
So peer
My dear
At my exterior
Skinny, pimply, glasses
Now my feet drag as if through molasses
My interior?
Is where my poetry reigns superior
My demons come out to play
Night and day
A price to pay
My rage
That makes one want to turn the page
My fear
That makes one shed a tear
My fumbles
That ultimately humbles
So you see
The real me
The me thats sad
Lil more than mad
The me that seems to be
Something different
A poem that is something different
I cannot seem to find
what I am looking for
though I hold it in my hands
it has no shape or weight,
so senselessly existing
for reasons
I cannot fathom
whatever I see
I know it is
only half real
the other half
that's missing
is the part that I have yet
to touch, to feel
the hands are the eyes
of existence
translating the language
of a barren universe
we, Her great grandchildren
must be the ****
through which She gives birth
to everything
that we cannot see
Cut the chase already.
It's not fun anymore.
You're just hurting yourself.
And honestly, I don't want to be blamed about it.
We've never really fought
My BFF and I
Except twice
Because one of us was an ally
And the other wasn't.
Because one of us said "I'm a bad influence, you shouldn't be my friend"
And we didn't talk
At least, that was the pretense
We fought because we cared
I wouldn't say 'homophobe' becuz the direct definition is 'fear of lgbtq'
That's not the case here.
We couldn't not talk for the whole day, we ended up bursting out at each other occasionally from across desks.
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