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Ana Jun 2020
I have a tendency to romanticise,
A habit of hoping.
Jumping to conclusions in my mind,
Maybe it's a way of coping.

It's caused a few issues,
Assumptions tend to do so.
But my mind won't give up that easily,
It sure doesn’t like hearing, 'no.'

So I may as well embrace it,
After all, what's so bad about hope?
Maybe that’s what we all need,
Maybe that’s a good way to cope.

I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I like the first stanza or so, but it went a different way than I was expecting. Let me know what you think!
Holly Mar 2020
Some people
will have you believe
that damage can be beautiful,
and it's true
that you can find
the sunlight through the clouds.
But my trauma is not pretty.
It is an ugly bruise
that everyone thinks is okay
to poke at,
and watch the black and blue
attempt to change colours
when it heals.
There is no beauty
in crying alone at 3am,
spilling alcohol down your shirt
at a party you're only attending
to drown your issues in,
swallowing tiny little pills
to feel somewhat okay,
avoiding any comfort
because you feel you deserve less.
It is a lonely place to be,
stuck in a broken mind
with one-way windows.
I can romanticise my pain
as much as i want,
but it will always be
a toxic relationship
i have with myself.
And it is not beautiful.
English Jam Oct 2018
Silver skies, tranquil nights
Gently gazing down from afar
Silver rooftops, twinkling lights
Buried deep among the stars
Silver memories paint silver portraits
Hung from my interior walls
Silver melodies, not unfortunate
I hear, my name, it calls
Silver teardrops stain my cheeks
Making melancholy of innocence
Silver snowstorms, heartache's peak
An evocative and celibate synthesis
Silver dreams, silver eyes
Meet silver nights, tranquil skies
Megha Balooni Feb 2015
I tried to walk
About in the woods
And dense evergreen forests
That are filled with monsoon
Which would've hit it moments back
And before the roots could actually seep it all in
The mangroves witness the shower again.

I tried to romanticize
Scribbling about the way he'd curl up
His fingers in my hair
Each strand longing for his affection
Longing this magnetic attraction
Between my hair and his stubble face.

I tried meeting people
Having interactions in my head
Portraits of people and learning
About their cultures and
Means of existence and more.

I tried to write
I tried to write impossibly
Of the things I'd never lived
Witnessing is an act,
Living is a dream.

I tried dreaming
I tried dreaming of all that could be
Could have been;
All the intricate fallacies
The make believes.

I was trying to write impossibly
Of the things I'd never lived
And then reality struck me.
axr Nov 2014
There is nothing romantic or beautiful about smoking
Smokers out there are aware about their bodies being harmed because of cigarettes
I know people who have ruined their lives because of smoking
now could you please stop romanticising this thing because it is ******* ******* me off.
i just read some poems here which romanticise smoking..

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