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Reality is scary
The beautiful dream is dying
Like all you had built was an imagination
And now you are no longer on medication
There are so many  tears to shed
Crying until your eyes dry
Wishing you had wings to fly
To escape into a world refined
One with no troubles
One you want to tell a story about
The  architect to give it the design it holds and deserves
But no it's your time to taste
The bitterness  of this world
To drink from the same river animals go to drink
To make a fire and get burnt by it
To hope and never get all you wish for
To stumble and fall but still get up
To unlock all those talents you didn't know you had
To live the life of a poor kid and know it's  no curse
To share the little you have
To know there is always a blessing that comes with giving
Now is the time to shuffle the cards
To mold yourself into one ready for anything
Joy, pain, sorrow, happiness
All lighting on different candles
You have the power to blow out those you don't need
Keep those that light up your life
Now is the time to take the stand of being a man
The story about life
Each bad situation is always a test
However we are masters of our fate and can brighten our sad days
Maria Mitea Dec 2020
So, I was tired, ( as you know :)
and decided to honour and surrender my tiredness  for as long as I write the poem, at list, ...

~~~
After surrendering:

Driving to pick up a client, - Hilda,

You know Hilda,
She is the wife of the ex Italian mafia driver,

- Hilda comes,
She is seeing me, - smiling happily
( last night in her email she was in lots of pain, I expected her to cry, ...)
- we drive,

She speaks, ... I drive and listen,
( my job is to listen and breathe)
How she applied for unemployment
and the difficulties, bureaucracy, and stress
of loosing her job because of Covid,

- I listen, ...  I am no longer tired, ...

I was happy to drive Hilda, ...
Reality wakes or strikes you up from any state, 😊
Naveen Malhotra Sep 2020
He has tread his path alone
He will tread his path alone
You know he hates name and fame
He wishes to remain unknown
For You too are Unknown
He wishes to go towards You
Please don't stop his heartbeats at this juncture
He wishes to fulfill his some important responsibilities
Later if You willed he wishes to be a wanderer
Moving across lands and oceans
You know he doesn't  even wish to put the burden of his death on anyone
He just wishes to get lost and vanished in unknown trails to be one with You
You the UNKNOWN
Fame Flame Sep 2020
They say its all because I reflect the traits so true,
Little do they know.
It’s a fake picture long back which I drew.
They say I am the same,
I am the same badge holder,
Little do they know.
New expectations are like boulder.
They say I won’t change,
That they can still trust me,
Little do they know.
Its a fake picture, It’s a stuck mask.
Who am I under?
Is still unkown at last!
Little do they know,
Little do they know.
Harley Hucof May 2020
I am unknown, still alone.
Experiencing on my own.

No witnesses to validate
My involvement or the weight
Of the choices i've made
Trying to liberate my spirits
With my patterned habits
Only to understand
That i am digging my end
With my crooked tangled hands

But still

My fears and
feelings they tend to vary
And my mind keep changing its mind.

So now i just smile and carry on
Leaving all my worries behind

No one likes to deal with the the unknown
Someone must be manifesting
Because i can't explain my preferences
Disowned , unresting
I have to believe an omniscent is guiding me
So i can truly rest in peace
I don't believe in responsibilities.

Writing is the only way to fruit this fear.

Words Of Harfouchism
What you think matters
Jana Pelzom May 2020
They have no meaning,
Sometimes they rhyme.
They mean the same thing,
Though said in different times.
Sometimes the most awful things
Is not what stings,
It’s the pretty words
That don’t have meanings
that hurt the worst.
Words © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jay M May 2020
Assignment after assignment
10, no 12, for math
2 lessons for English
2 movies and a sheet of questions for each for journalism
1 weekly question and 1 lesson for biology
A lesson and questions about textbook pages for Spanish
A workout log for P.E.
1 nonfiction piece and 10-15 poems for creative writing

All due when?
By the end of the week for math
By the end of the week for English
By the end of the week for journalism
By the end of the week for biology
By the end of the week for Spanish
By yesterday for the nonfiction piece for Creative Writing
And who knows when for those poems for Creative writing

Get the grades up
Get the grades up
No matter what the cost
No matter what the pain
And get the chores done
At least 4 a day
Write down everything you do along the line
Timecards, what's next?

Shower, time it just right
Work around the other people
Don't mess around

Waste away
Obey
Get the grades up
Get the grades up
No matter what
Don't be dreamy and strut
Smack you to the ground
Get down from the clouds
Back to reality

Straight As only
Nothing less
Everything more
Or who knows what's going out the door
Maybe something you love
Maybe your sanity

Get the grades up
Keep your head up
Don't slip up
Keep your head up
Smile on, smiles on!

Don't argue, they always win
It creeps beneath your skin
Make it stay there
Bite your tongue
Until it bleeds
No matter what the cost
Remember?

It's all in your head, of course,
Besides the grades,
THOSE ARE REAL
There's no making a deal
Get the grades up
Get the grades up
Straight As and nothing less
Nothing left either, until you're a horrid mess
Just Scattered.

- Jay M
May 6th, 2020
The pressure is on, and I'm stressing out.
The letter I never sent,
I write my valentine on your beating heart,
And send a perennial prayer,
That you could know without knowing.

Petals on your doorstep,
But no signature,
Pink Rosehip on your bedsheets,
Spying through your window blinds,
At someone unreal.

A label that travels as my desperations move it,
How I value the sick,
The unnatural,
The corpse and the consent.

The tenacious nature of a train,
With a hundred destinations,
None finite,
Moving and passing every station,
Leaving like it never stopped,

The will to pull me off it,
The weight of every expectation,
The ommitance after the deprication,
And the incommodious silence after the exposè.

I lust for that iced libation,
The roseate water of ivy and redemption,
A clay to fit inside my insatiable skin hunger,
A welcomed error of continuity in my own beliefs.

The rain of rapture will flood the streets to the chorus of weeping,
The composition of the crestfallen,
And my perennial prayer,
For an ardent antiphon.

-Unabaitingly, The Romantically Inept
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