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I’ve heard it takes a lifetime to live a minute
and it takes a minute to live a lifetime.
You don’t know what you’re in until you’re in it,
and you don’t see the sun until the sunshine.
So I’ll resign to waiting in line,
wasting my time, and losing my mind.

I know when I’ve been beat,
so don’t be surprised if I retreat.
I’d rather face the music then face the heat,
rather ******* tears as they’re sweet;
as sweet as sweet defeat.

It takes only a second to start a war,
and then naturally all hell breaks loose.
Do you know which side you’re fighting for?
Did you even get to choose?
So I’ll resign to the front line,
biding my time searching for a land mine.

I know when I’ve been beat
so don’t be shocked if I move my feet
to find cover from the fire on the street.
At long last the circle is complete
and it’s as sweet as sweet defeat.

“I’ll get you and your little dog too”
it’s all I’m hearing, and it’s ringing true,
along with “what’s a poor boy to do?”
“You have a choice: red or blue”
do you dare turn reality askew?
Or take your chances and wait for lieu?

I know when I’ve been beat,
so don’t be worried if I take a seat.
I can’t win the battle and I won’t cheat,
I’ll be lamb to slaughter; made to meat
and I’ll taste as sweet as sweet defeat.
The white flag is stained and ripped.
Asher 1d
Just imagine
Being human, bound and broken,
Hating the questions left unspoken.
Denying truth until it's shown,
Laughing at lies as if they’re your own.

Picture this
An institution hailed as the cure,
While tyranny festers, too vile to endure.
Irony lingers, thick in the air,
Pollution of minds too numb to care.

And imagine
Reducing your soul to a single name,
A fleeting spark in a futile game
Here’s a poem inspired by the song No Wind Resistance. I feel its lyrics deserve more recognition and appreciation
Once it was love,
now it is a wound,
a gentle reminder,
of what we lost.
It's beautiful and ugly at the same time.... maybe...
I don't know...
I find a reflection,
not of who I am,
but who I am
when I am with you.

Who am I?
I do not know
until I see myself
in the mirror
of your eyes.
Sometimes, the best version of ourselves is revealed in the eyes of another, reflecting both who we are and who we could become.
For me, it’s my family. For you, it may be someone else.
What we all share in common is the "soul connection" with these people.... the ones we never want to lose.
stream of consciousness
carves a river, unknown -
ego takes a dive.
In my manuscript,
I've burned my past lives.
Deep in the cortex's haze,
Memories buried in sighs.
There was no reason no why,
It was a vague albeit goodbye.
written on 07/05/2024
This is not meant to be a poem.

Never delete what you were. Even though it doesn't reflect your current being. You must be proud of what you were because it got you until now and it prepared you. It gave you the tools. It WAS you and hence it IS still you.

Never be ashamed of the love you felt and gave. Instead. Grow in love and grow the love.

And if things did not go the best possible way. Well. What even is the best possible way? Things went the only way possible. You learn from what happens and live the way you think is best for you. Maybe learning from mistakes too.

There are no true immortal beings, but immortal are the feelings we feel and the ideas that we bring to others. This is because ideas and feelings will move through generations as long as someone is willing to talk about them. Share them. Write them. And speak about them with other people.

This is magic.

I guess that's all.
मैं आपकी तरह छिपा हुआ नहीं हूं, इसलिए कृपया मुझे लिखें या संदेश भेजें। मैं आपको उचित उत्तर देना चाहूँगा
This morning, I come to my table once more,
A cup of coffee gently steams,
Warming hands that feel weighted down
Again and again, I type my goodbye,
But I always delete it, hoping there’s still something else I can do.

You, who have filled my days until now,
Like mornings begun with easy conversations,
And afternoons spent lost in tasks, one after another—
Today, it feels different, as the countdown begins.

The longer I sit, the more I realize this chair no longer fits me
I trace the quiet walls, so familiar with laughter, complaints, and tireless effort
Each corner here has its own story.

Though my heart is still full, I know I must leave
Tomorrow, someone else will sit here, bringing even bigger dreams
For now, I leave my memories in this last sip of coffee,
Heading to the door that’s always greeted me each morning,
Now releasing me gently, like a Momiji branch lets go of its leaves around the building in autumn.
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