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There are different shades of darkness
in this wretched world.
From the boy who quivers all alone,
to the weak and humble girl.
There is darkness in this wretched land,
some darker than the rest.
For there’s darkness everywhere we stand,
to see the light we would be blessed.
To look beyond the daunting black,
to dance in darkness ‘til
the sun comes up and rises again.
But shadows stay dark, still.

There are different shades of darkness,
each unique to everyone.
So find the light within your hearts,
and always try to find the sun.

“There are different shades of darkness inside of everyone.
So look beyond the shadows, and seek for the sun.”
A poem I wrote 3-4 years ago🖤
two two twenty two
ten p.m. twenty two
sixty days since i lost you.
two two twenty two
Isabella Apr 13
Keep a secret
Tell no one
Keep a secret
The weight of a ton
Keep a secret
It's okay
Keep a secret
For one more day
Keep a secret
Don't tell
Keep a secret
Oh well
Keep a secret
Break their heart
Keep a secret
Fall apart
Keep a secret
Hurt lives
Keep a secret
Stab like knives
Keep a secret
Tell no one
Keep a secret
The weight of a ton
Keep a secret
Hurt no one

Be a secret.
Lilly F Mar 29
the repetitive days grow tiring
so extremely uninspiring
as i remember the times when things were so simple
where we had smiles so big you saw dimples
the dusty chalk left on the porch stairs
the house's unfinished repairs
the creak of the wooden doors
the kitchen's tiled floors
the chipped paint on the walls
and none of it bothered me at all
my mind held no worries
my heart was never in a hurry
oh, to go back to the days
my teary eyes look back in a gaze,
looking back on the shadow that it once was
i want my adrenaline rushing from running too fast
i want the green stained knees from sliding on the grass
i want to taste the salty tears on my cheeks from scraping my knees
i want the calluses from climbing sticky trees
i want the brush burn from going down the static-feeling slide
even if the bruises and scratches make me cry
i would go back in a heartbeat
because those days were oh so street
being a kid on Grape Street

©L.F.
The day doesn't start

When the first bird starts to sing

When warm rays crawl into the room through thin curtains,

When the breeze changes its direction,

When the coffeeshop around the corner spreads sweet smell into my window,

When the alarm goes off or the telephone rings,

When the first train leaves the station,

When fancy dressed people rush wherever they go,

When the golden chariot rides the crystal bridge,

When the primal deity dies and gives way to a new born Christ,

When the bell tolls for a Sunday mass,

When the mullah cries out from his ivory tower,

When everybody gathers around the Market place,

No, the day only starts

When you open your eyes.
Originally published on Medium in Poets Unlimited

https://medium.com/poets-unlimited/7-a-m-22f6dfc85502
Proctor Ehrling Aug 2019
I've lived in the outskirts all my life
I've met in the outskirts my friends and my wife
I've built in the outskirts a comfortable hive
I'll make in the outskirts my kids, four or five
I've been here in outskirts both night and day
I went to school, college, work in the same place
I've never been made aware of any other way
Than the one I've been using in outsirkts again and again
The outskirts are comfortable, the outskirts are safe
Nothing's ever going down there, neither good nor bad
There is no grand ambition behind its bland face
No life goals or life to love behind its made bed
In outskirts I've lived, loved, ate, ******, slept, dreamt, hated, berated, been bored and amused, adored and abused, depleted, exhausted, destroyed and rebuilt, encouraged and spewed, all encompassing comfort of life's dullest views
The outskirts are comfortable, they are always secure
In outskirts I've lived my whole life and more
All outskirts look the same, but mine is the best
For my outskirts is where my humble home stands
I'm an outskirts lad, born and raised. It's a comfortable life, but oh so boring.
Tony Tweedy May 2019
There must be others going through what I'm going through.
This an attempt at conversation with those who feel as I do.

I live a life so empty and always on my own.
It seems so short of reality to describe it as alone.

The days are endless cycles that fade and become as one.
Looking to find some distinction when basically there's none.

Emptiness and lonely just doesn't tell it right.
And to say its isolation really doesn't describe my plight.

A world devoid of relationships of any type or kind.
Has left me with distorted disposition and an overactive mind.

I find days, weeks, months and calendars obsolescent things.
A consequence of every day repetitive in everything it brings.

I don't know how to stop it defeating me in this way.
For when I try to fight it all motivation drains away.

My life seems forever lived in the deepest sense of sorrow.
Knowing what I did yesterday and today, I do again tomorrow.
mysa May 2019
and once again
we thought things would be different

and once again
things were not
gamers i am tired and ready to go home. i miss writing these terrible poems too :,) it's been a little over a year since i wrote my first one and i haven't rly made progress but that's okay. haven't rly been practicing enough to do so. at least im having fun.
Brawlstarsmann Mar 2019
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Watch him rollin watch him go
Watch him rollin watch him go
He be rolling down the street he be rolling to dat beat
He be rolling down the street he be rolling to dat beat
Watch him roll
Hey wassup
Watch him roll
HEY WASSUP!!!
Here come dat boi
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