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Flatfielder Nov 14
Resignation for self preservation
Forever to hide
Or to break out en masse
Communities struggling
For identity safety and Touch
When leaders ignore
Rise
Never give up
(c)near_lane7
Fluffy clouds take me.
An agony below me.
A car sent for me.
neha yamba May 3
i fear no storm of tragedy and loss
i have been broken into pieces before
i know it'll be bad and excruciating
but trust me i know how to fix everything torn
after the storm calms down , i'll arrange and stick
my pieces back
for i exactly know which piece goes where .
Out by thy window to Hope
Thou seest, but the green sigh.
Hope for all other life shimmer,
As dark black consumes thy nigh.

Yet, thou resort to vile tirade, for
Samekind breathing thy exhaled air,
In knowledge, indictment just a mirage.
The anger merely reflection of a fear.

Do thee then, think in retrospect ?
Or do then, prospectively act ?
What shall be thy salvation ?
When thou deny, what is but fact !

Killing thy way to the top, Human.
Death ,destruction; ever on thy mind.
Why then do thee hope for revelation ?
To thy fellow never, thou were kind !

Ignominious downfall imminent,
Epiphany written on the wall !
It takes a toll to be sentient,
As thy numbers grow; to fall !

Nature can sustain only so much,
Thy ignorance, avarice as vile.
Preparedness never for this coming,
A war against all you did defile! Yet,

May thee rise from ashes, resurrected.
Sustenance, compassion_ thine aim !
All is not lost, if thou realise this,
Viirtuousity: thy only saving dame !
About the current times, about the pandemic, about what could have been done .. and how we still live in denial. I know it's a tad pessimistic, but care, there's light at the end of the tunnel.
OupaGollie Aug 2019
Your life might not get better today or tomorrow
It is filled with pain and sorrow

But what about the day after?
Will it be filled with laughter?

Or will it be filled with pain?
And how long will it remain?

The only way to cope
Is to always have an sliver of hope

Yes you might not have hope anymore
Because you are fighting a constant war

I know you have been through a lot
But it is all part of a bigger plot

Even though your energy levels are on reserve
You will one day get what you deserve

Now is when you need love
To help you rise above
Warren Mar 2019
Open those arms of yours,
Wide unto the sky,
And fly,
Fly away,
Away from all the pain,
From those who make you anxious,
Let the wind strip all your worries from your soul,
Glide through the clouds on the crest of a current,
Now look down,
See how small all the fear really is,
Look how unimportant they are in the grand scheme of things,
See how you rise above it all.
Flying high,
When your ready,
Open your eyes,
And gift them with your presence,
But never forget how high you can soar.

wM
Muted Feb 2018
all too often
we carry the
inexplicable burden
of perfection,
the weight balanced
upon our weakened shoulders,
we can hear our hollow bones
cracking like fallen leaves
under the pressure,
and still, we ignore it.
we see ourselves
through a looking glass
of social comparison
and self discrepancy.
she can't be better than me.
we want to believe that we are beautious beings.
we criticize what
intimidates us,
hatred falling from
our tongues
without a single,
rational thought.
it is then that we become wolves in sheep clothing

but let me tell you this:
you and i, will never be the same
my hair will never
fall the way yours does,
clothes will never
rest that delicately
upon my frame.
there is a divergence
in the way my
hips sway
and
that is okay.

i've a geyser
in my heart,
rosebuds in
my soul.
the faults,
crevices,
canyons in
my flesh
tell the story
of where i am
and have been.
i've inextinguishable embers
inside of me,
things that no other
being will
ever see.

and you,

you are
a monument,
too.

so, though
we all aspire to be
that image seared
into our minds,
from the cover
of that magazine
we read when we
were thirteen,
we will never be the same


and
that
is
incredible
Rachel Glen Mar 2017
I will rebalance these chemicals in my brain that tell me I need you – I want you – I love you.
Pulling this knife from my back, I will rise from the grave you’ve thrown our love into.
Sweating out your favorite song that has been going off in my head every night for eight weeks straight.
You have said what you want now, I’ve already come and gone.
Done with wasting time – I’m only wasting time.
Pauline Morris May 2016
Two seedlings grow up on the same plot of land
Wonderful black soil, not loose sand
So their roots gripped deep, so tall they could stand
So face to face they grew, each one knowing the other
As they shot up, their love soon bloomed one for another

They so longed to touch and entangle
With their branches they wanted to hold and mingle
And all the way to their roots they wanted to feel the tingle

Their love grew strong, and so did their trunks
They were watered and cared for each day by the monks
And the years slipped by when one final hour
Their branches could touch with a little wind power

A few more years slipped by and they now could embrace
And they were happy they had been planted face to face
They stood for centuries happy and content in their place

Sadly they thought that this bliss would last forever
All life problems they swore to endeavor
They held each other through storms and sunny weather
Until one day his roots grew weaker
With every passing year their situation grew bleaker

One night a storm blew in and their situation was dire
The wind blew him over and lightning set him on fire
She lost some branches trying to hold on to him
She knew deep down to her sap that now her life would be grim

Without him by her side she started to cry
And with every eternal year that crept by
Her limbs no longer reached for the sky but drooped down to the ground
Cuz that is now where his charred remains could be found

She reached for him with every single limb
Her weeping went on each day of the sorrowful years she was filled to the brim
The monks took care of her but they could feel her great sorrow
They prayed everyday that she would stand strong till tomorrow

One day an old monk took a close look at the tree
And decided the pain had changed her so much that her name now is different by decree

So my child when you lay your tired head on your pillow
Remember her and all her seedlings are now the weeping willow

She's there to remind us of the loss of great love
That not even her seedlings could rise above
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