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Julie Mar 16
How do I know what is right?
How do I know when to act
when to argue
when to stay silent
and when not to

How do I know when to do it
and when to not

How do I know
when the right time to fight is?
How do I know what is right?
Does the feeling in my gut tell me?
Or the tears in my eyes?

"It will get better," they say,
but what if it doesn't?
What if I stay like this
until the end of my days,
trying to figure out,
what I should have already known?

And when you ask me how I feel,
I just answer
"A lot"
How do you know if it is right?
I do not know why you do this to me
It's clear I'm not a priority
My eyes open
You prefer them closed
Too late to cover betrayal exposed
To me it's obvious as it can get
Stalling makes me more upset
Either way going to find out
You'll have to confront my pout
The death of consideration at our door
Birthing doubt that loudly roars
Staring at undeniable truth
Witnessing what's in front of me doesn't take a sleuth
My desires to back-burner are pushed aside
Then have the nerve to claim you "tried"
When faced with actions you turn tables
Insisting it's my mindset that is unstable
I've went through cycle over and over hoping it will end
Telling myself to not get angry because it's YOUR money to spend
Even though it's true can't help but feel hurt within
Never learned how to be confident in your ability to win
It must be a lifetime of letdowns and loss
Foolish failures have filled my flesh with frost
Seeming obligated to protect you from your habit
Of course you persist on chasing that white rabbit
As merely mortal you are not to blame
Pull is too severe calling out your name
In your optics a wild glimmer awakens
Want to tame it before your morality is taken
The dawn bridges bad past to promising present's fresh start
Gentle wind whispers words to calm currents crashing in my heart
I follow instincts and they lead to the front door
We would walk together but you don't mirror my strides anymore
And time trickles slower just for having bodies near
I'd live over your shoulder advising choices in your ear
Without fear of flailing or getting lost or stuck
Wandering paths anywhere without giving one ****
I would not hold against you the mistakes recklessly made
Wouldn't be so quick to throw your direction shade
I am a little hasty with my poor attitude
Afraid to fly your leaps of faith I automatically exclude
Rooted in wildflowers intentions sway easily with the breeze
Paint feathers black and white to match piano keys
Borrowed from sunsets is glow warming my ice
Sky calls out a sole last roll of the dice
But the ground quakes beneath our feet
In too much debt to surrender and retreat
A compulsion from a screen formed and it appears it's here to stay
Daring you to raise your bet until there's zero pennies left to play
I carry stress for both our hands
Aching brain responds to negativity's demands
Right this second selfishness has me seeing red
Soon as you mumble "sorry" I'll be holding you in my arms instead
Why am I so quick to forgive?
Sanama Mar 13
I am like a falcon, caught in a troubled storm,
Wings torn by winds as cold as winter's scorn.
Surrounded by the storm’s wrath and hate,
I fly through thunder, dodging their fate.

But as I soar, something starts to ignite —
Feathers burn in silence, yet loud with might.
Free like the blazing sun I rise,
Flames roaring as my anger cries.

As the light of the sun embraces my wings,
And its heat touches deep within,
I feel like the sun itself — burning bright,
Strong and free from chains of night.

A blaze grows sharp at every turn,
Falcon’s fury begins to burn.
Though they try to chain my fire,
I rise in embers, climbing higher.

Like a phoenix, I am born again,
From ash and flame, breaking the chain.
The falcon I was becomes pure flame,
Stronger now, with no more shame.

Their hate the wind — but I’m the fire,
A stormbird born from all their ire.
No longer broken, no longer small,
I am the blaze that outshines all.
This is more like a short story that shows how troubles can make us stronger and wiser. Even when people close to us try to bring us down, we don't have to stay there. Be born again — let your wings guide you to rise above it all.
It's all a little weird,
The way things fall into place.
How life seems to catch us,
When the time is just right.
Life found me when I was glum,
It told me to write.
Writing
Sorry mate,
I can't afford lunch today,
Who knew hell had such expensive heating.
You'd reckon with all the fire,
It'd be awfully hot.
But I'm still shivering,
At least some of the devil's are oppo-zot.
The right side is reserved for every left thought
Antonio Jan 31
one day i am so happy to fulfill my own prophecy while in the next i look for the exit,
everything moves in tandem for my vision to change from green to grey from skit to script,
post portem everything might seem too much out of touch for us to really keep the wit,
the only part thats really alive in your body is your soul the rest is a part of the future casket,
contrasts left and right for my own to design, pushing the buttons of life for the rabbits to see.
"in the depth of winter, i finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer" -A. Camus
Jeremy Betts Jan 19
I wanted so bad to be done with the fight
I no longer cared 'bout who's wrong and who's right

©2025
~ Couplet ~
A pair of consecutive lines of poetry that create a complete thought or idea. The lines often have a similar syllabic patterns, called a meter. While most couplets rhyme, not all do.
~
The word Couplet is French for a "little pair"
~
Jeremy Betts Jan 18
I had a dream last night
About suddenly waking up
But the dark had engulfed the light

Gone was the fight
Both sides giving up
On simple wrong and right

I'm awaken to a primitive plight
Ageing but not growing up
Somewhere out in the multiverse I might

Forget reaching the highest hight
It's not looking up
Not a single goal in sight

The futures not too bright
It's burning up
While we argue who hit ignite

It's too much to take onsite
No throwing up
Only ingest a small bite
Maybe it will be alright

©2025
~ Villanelle ~
A fixed-form poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, thus containing nineteen lines. A villanelle also follows a specific rhyme scheme using only two different sounds.
ABA (x5)
ABAA (x1)
~
The word Villanelle comes from the Italian word villanella, which means "rustic song or dance".
~
Jeremy Betts Jan 17
Sometimes it's better
To not have ever
Even tried
"Never say never"
Should come with a disclaimer
Spread wide

Watch for the tide
Current's make a deadly ride
Try to remember
More people than not have lied
Wrong and right often mingle on the same side
A good person's not even a contender

©2025
Jeremy Betts Jan 16
How does one live
Without a heart in his chest,
No positive thought in his head,
The worst presenting as his best?

A hopeless romantic
If it's not perfect, it's panic
Why is the worse case automatic?
I think it's called...manic

There's suppose to be no need
No one should be expected to try
What if I'm wrong?
Or what if I'm right and people lie

I just want you
To want to want what I want too
And maybe help put a few insecurities to bed
And pretend for a fleeting second true love's true

©2025
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