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Damocles 51m
In a whisper
Is how I’ll go,
Further drifting
Static as snow.

The less that they know,
The more honor I’ll keep,
Dragging my last thoughts
Into an endless last sleep.

Don’t break the glass
I don’t want to wake,
No matter the violence of your shake
Let me rest, let me stay.

In a whisper,
The last words carried
Kissing your ears by way of zephyr
This is how I’ll go,
Further drifting,
Static as snow.

As dreams start to fade
Replaced with the infinite black
Silence echoes memories
Like ghosts haunting holographic.

Catch the syncopated beats
As my heart drums to a stop.
A beat for your heart strings
Now play the music to send me off
A reverie of soft melodies
As you lower me, under the oak trees.

In a whisper,
Under canopies
Is how I’ll go,
Will you remember me?
You ever have a dream that you’re going to die? I did and before I go back tk bed I had to write it out.
ASLRC 4h
On my nightstand, there is a beautiful music box Ballerina
She is stunning, passionate and young, her name is Catherina

Catherina used to dance in circles without ceasing
to the same note, her only purpose was people-pleasing

Whenever someone would open the box and wind it up on repeat
she continued dancing, on demand, ignoring the pain in her feet

Nobody cared how she felt, as long as she kept turning
like a clock, that never stops, she felt her passion burning

The older she turned, the more pain she had to go through
she couldn’t escape ‘cs she was tied to a strong *****

the music started to sound uncanny
she wished she didn’t have to see

So she made her tears red, voluntarily
to escape into her own imaginary
ASHESS 10h
I’m afraid.

Afraid—of what?

Of losing what was never mine,

Or living again what once broke me apart?



Four walls hold me, silence loud as screams,

A prisoner of tradition, stitched into dreams

That were never mine to begin with.

They said, “You’re a girl — isn’t this your gift?”



Cook.

Clean.

Smile.

Be thin, be light, be silent, be bright.

A perfect dish, a perfect face,

A perfect shame wrapped up in grace.



You’re just seventeen,

Too young to worry, they mean.

But the mirror whispers otherwise—

“Be worthy for the man who will one day arrive.”

Why was I taught so soon to please,

To fear, to fold, to always appease?



Room messy like my mind,

Thoughts tangled, none kind.

White enough? No.

Thin enough? No.

A good girl? No.

Worthy of love? Only if I show

Obedience stitched into every chore,

While they walk out the door

To breathe, to live, to soar.



And me?

I wait.

A daughter not quite hers,

A bride not quite theirs.

“Amanat,” they say — borrowed breath,

Belonging nowhere till death.



They call me lazy for sleeping late,

But how do you rest when your thoughts suffocate?

Girls don’t get tired, they say.

Girls don’t get to ask why.

They just rise, serve, smile, and comply.



And if I speak?

I’m loud.

If I sit?

Too proud.

If I want rest?

I’m ungrateful.

If I don’t cook?

I’m shameful.



But what if I ran?

What if I fled to a place unknown,

Where I wake when I wish, and breathe on my own?

Where love isn’t earned by labor or lies,

And no one tells me who I am through their eyes?



I’ll go.

Far away.

Where the sky doesn’t care what I wear,

Where silence heals, not hurts.

Where I am not a role,

Not a burden,

Not an “amanat.”



Just a girl.

Just a soul.

Trying to be whole. ع۔
Welcome to my world of chaos,
voices and frightning dreams,
Welcome to my hell of outward
smiles and inward screams,
Welcome to my neverending circus
where the joker is me,
Welcome to my show,
No entrance fee...

Mistress of the ring that keeps
going up in smoke,
Taming wild beasts and demons
I so easily provoke,
Puppeteer and performer,
pulling all the strings,
Take a tissue upon entry,
for the tears my drama brings...

Hold on to your seat,
Now firmly plant your feet,
The show is about to start,
Some may call it art,
Jumping through flaming
hoops as I avoid being hit by emotions,
Balancing in mid-air on a thin
line of devotion,

Now suddenly in a sword fight
with a beastly demon on a floor
of bloodshed tears,
The crowd gasps, as I face my fears...
Be calm my friends,
do not be afraid tonight,
Afterall, I do this everyday,
I am used to this fight,

Someone softly sobbing
as my trio of broken pieces,
A clown, a lost soul and lost little girl,
perform a masterful display with
no sound at all,
A shrill scream as I almost
lose my balance, almost fall,
Just in time I save myself
like I always do,
I hope you enjoyed the show...
PS. The storyline was true...
© Lolla Smith
Dress all your jokes
With forgetfulness
And a pinch of spice
And make him laugh
On your scars
He may like the taste of it
Is it okay that I am converting all my sadness into your laugh?
Yes,
I cut deep enough
to feel alive
But never deep enough
To die
These feelings get over me
Making me unable to speak,
Think.
It's a curse to feel too much
Noticing every little thing
Their voice changing
The way they behave
How they talk to me now
Ignoring me
I feel them shouting at me
Even through texts
I feel them getting mad at me
Still unable to speak
It's been years now
Still I have this feeling
Creeping in my bones
Making me mute
You did this to yourself
Acting so tough
Crash the sky, it’s called corrosion
“Spread my wings and cut them off!”

Where is your gown?
What comes up will come down

So tall
Yet so fragile
So empty inside
And then it all shattered…

Where is your gown?
What comes up will come down

It was you
Why did you do it
For me
This poem is about a person watching someone they care about collapse. Planning to make a song using this poem.
Megan 2d
The quiet ache in the pit
is not only because I want you
but because a part of me recognizes
that it needs you.

Your eyes will never know me
but mine softly glow for you
as undying emeralds
cut from your light.
Oh misery,
oh my,
oh my—

Why do you
follow me around?

In my soul,
in my hair,
I see you everywhere.

Each day
feels like a slog
when I know you’re around.

Oh misery,
oh my,
oh my.
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