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Shane Apr 24
Lonely... I'm so lonely
When the clock struck twelve on that silent night
Emotions befell me that caused quite a fright
Sadness and anger
A glimpse of the past
Regret for the days that just couldn't last
I felt like a failure, a reject, a mess
A desolate child stuck in distress
That's who I was
And that's who I'll be
A forever lonely child
Lost in misery
Emilia Apr 23
It is queer
The way that eyes blink out from the walls
yet still whilst I water them so
there screams are the loudest calls

It is queer
the way that the water flows up
Even when the bed is dry and the fish flop into the valley beside thee pond
despite being filled with wine, I can catch them in my late evening cup

it is queer
That this poem shall reach you
For where I reside cannot possibly be described
for the dank dark feald is oh so dry, I don't know how anything grew

it is queer
the concept of time
for in this place one may notice things
things that used to be fine

why, one fact that I truly find to be queer
is the state of thyn mind whilest you sleep
everything is turned on its head
and everything has landed in a heap

Why is it said that in thyns dreams
Thee must always be happy and gay
that there will be nothing said of demons
that it shall consist of unicorns and fae

And truly I say, that a common man's opinion on dreams
opinions that weren't even written in your year
can be seen by many and not called queer
that now it is called a song of the heart
and that is something that thee should forever hold dear
Arii Apr 23
I hate you
For no good reason.
I hate you
Because you remind me of me.
I hate you
‘cause you’re like a reality check.
I hate you
For all the very traits that
I, too, have.
The essence of life
Is not the grand, shining prize—
Not the towers we build,
Not the praise, not the size.

It is not in the gold
That I chased in my youth,
But in hard-spoken love,
And in stubborn old truth.

It’s not in the noise
Of applause or acclaim,
But in calling your child
By their little pet name.

It lives in the touch
Of a calloused old hand,
In the strength to let go,
In the grace to withstand.

I once thought it lived
In the sharp edge of pride,
But it is more in the nights
When someone stayed by your side.

It’s in nursing a wound
That no one can see,
In forgiving yourself
Before your soul goes to sleep.

It’s in coffee gone cold
In a hospital bed,
In the things that you meant
But never quite said.

It’s in songs half-remembered
And quiet shared meals,
In the hush of a prayer
When you don’t know what heals.

It’s the smile you give,
Not the ones you take;
The truth you speak
For compassion’s sake.
Not the lies you guard,
Or the words you bend—
But the honesty shared
That helps someone mend.

The essence of life
Isn’t found in control,
But in losing your way
And still loving it whole.

It’s the friend who returns
Though you pushed them away,
It’s the smile from a stranger
That carries your day.

It’s in holding your breath
As the sunset turns gold,
And the ache in your chest
When you’re finally old.

It’s the stories I tell
Though my voice may grow thin,
And the silence that waits
For the next breath to begin.

So if you're still young,
Don’t rush through the race.
Let the moment unfold—
Feel the sun on your face.

Because life, my dear child,
Isn’t just to survive.
It’s the love that we leave—
That’s the essence of life.
Madelyn Apr 21
I look in the mirror and see someone softer—
Not weaker,
But worn in a way love tends to leave behind.

There was a time I loved blindly,
Loudly,
Without asking if the ground could hold me.
I called it strength,
But it was fear
Wearing confidence like perfume.

Now, I measure my footsteps.
I pause before giving too much.
I speak, not to be heard—
But to be honest.

You wouldn’t recognize the way I love now.
Not because it’s gone,
But because it’s grown quiet,
Rooted deeper,
No longer searching for permission to bloom.

I am still learning.
Still unlearning.
Still loving.

But I am not the same.
And maybe—
That’s what healing really is.
We don’t always notice when we begin to change. But somewhere between heartbreak and healing, I started finding pieces of myself I never knew I’d lost.
— M. Adelyn
Asher Apr 19
you
i think i found peace,
you and i were not meant to  
but i still look back.  

someone checks my list,  
life is full, bright, and moving,  
yet you cross my mind.  

was it even love?  
then i feel how much i cared,  
yes, it surely was.
As cast into light,
a shadow appears–
a quiet figure, stitched our heels,
moving as we move,
never speaking,
never sleeping.

It doesn’t beg to be seen–
yet it is always there.

It holds what we bury–
fear, denial, and grief;
the voices of fallacy,
the weight of dreams deferred.
In its void,
It collects the pieces
of what we choose to ignore.
The past echoes there.
The burden breathes there.
The purpose waits there.
Still.
Watching.
Black, like every other.

Peace, legacy, desire, love,
life, time, power, freedom–
the purpose we carry,
even in the dark.

Some move through life unaware of its presence.
At times, the shadow devours us as it follows,
becoming the void itself,
the same void we long to escape.

Like the birds that flow within the sky.
Like the wind that goes where it must.
Like art that forgets its maker.
Like the planets, moving by their own will.
Like a name, whispered into time itself.
Like any form it follows, stone, trees, dust.

It does not leave us,
It becomes whole.
Eve Apr 18
N▇▇▇▇,
since we last talked, i wanted to tell you what you missed.

• truthfully, i wish you had been there when i was ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇.

• i thought you would have wanted to know that ▇▇▇ to ▇▇▇▇▇ again.

• also i found out that ▇▇▇▇ is
▇▇▇▇▇ than i ever realized.

• do you still ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ?
do you think ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ?

• i wonder, did you ever ▇▇▇▇▇ what ▇▇▇▇ ? did ▇▇▇▇▇ it? you must have, otherwise, you ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ stayed.

• anyways, you also missed just how ▇▇▇
and ▇▇▇ i have ▇▇▇▇ the ▇▇.



and most of all, ▇▇▇ you ▇▇▇ don't truly ▇▇▇▇ deserve ▇▇ to ▇▇▇ know, ▇▇▇
not anymore. ▇▇▇

                                                     --M▇▇▇▇
a letter to ▇▇▇▇.
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