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Ida Jul 12
you walk on an abandoned railway
its dark and you can't see anything
but your know they're there
people in front of you
behind you, on every side of you
holding you like you're something dear, someone important that they can't bear to lose
it's a ghost town.
you might as well be blind but you still balance on the tracks, someone is holding your hand
at home your mom is making dinner while you eat a clementine
and nothing makes you happier than this clementine
so you consider planting a seed but
it would die anyway
because it's a ghost town.
but there are no ghost, not really
it's just history
and it's begging you to keep yourself sane.
TG Jun 15
I will never be wanted,
Whatever I do,
Whatever I achieve,
How I look,
I´ll never be loved the way I want te be loved.
The way I deserve to be loved.

It hurts so much,
When u know
U have so much to give,
To offer,
Your heart is so bright,
and open,
Your heart listens,
and cares,

But you´ll never be wanted...
It hurts, when u see everyone around you being wanted, and you ask yourself, when is it my turn to be the chosen. Why aren´t I the one that can be valued for once, apreciated or loved. When can I be the one that is talked about, cherished, loved.
Lily Priest May 20
She wanted to travel
Unravel the world
Like famous explorers
Who's wandering was all the will to ask
If there was anything beyond the horizon
That they could see.

Now shes everywhere -

Frozen stare, pigtails and grey red uniform,
Tie needling south with the straightness of a compass
And shes lost.

Where is she?
Everywhere anyone turns
Trapped in the undergrowth
Where cans and cat **** go to pasture
Her wrinkled smile
Is caked onto the branches
Paper machet - ed and as brittle
As an old map.
She breaks apart like bread crumbs
That will never lead her home.

Have you seen her?
Not tumble weeding her news
Across the m2
Or pinned to a lamppost
Weeping her ink into the missing
like a watercolour.

Have you spied her?
Not tied with weak ribbon
to brown stalks who's little
Notes speak of hope
And other things, like Angel's and innocence,
The innocence shes frozen in.

Can you find her?
Not hopefully
Flying her flag of the forgotten
On the tv
Budget crew
Remaking her last seen
With shaking cameras
And discount queens of the smaller screen
Hoping for Hollywood.

Is there a tangible
Left to her name
Thrown as it has been across
State lines, and small places
That only the locals know.
She has Columbus - ed the globe
And she only left home
Walked down her drive
And disappeared.
rivy Apr 15
the museum of my heart
has a blurry picture of his green eyes
the boy whose I name I never knew

there's a special exhibit
of all the bathrooms I had a breakdown in

there's polaroid pictures hanging
of all the friends I lost through the years
and all the friends who lost me

there's the poetry I wrote about them
words written in red ink and messy handwriting

there's statues of copper and tin
of all the lovers who couldn't love me

there's a constant humming of white noise and lo-fi
echoes of unspoken words I kept and ones I never heard

there's a selection of wingless butterflies
and a collection of blunt pencil sharpener blades

there's a basket of fortune cookies
and every single piece of paper carries the same aphorism:
"amidst the loneliness, the things you loved will forever haunt you."

there's old tv sets and a stack of DVD's
of all the films I wish I'd seen

there's all the skeletons I've hidden
secrets written on napkins and snuck between the wall cracks

there's a brand new guillotine and a golden noose
carefully kept for anyone who tries to hurt me

there's blackberry trees, an open ceiling
and dark splatters covering the ground beneath it

there's a chapel with empty seats and burned bible verses
rose petals and pink, lilac and blue candles
where an altar waits for a future love's mementos

there's a fountain of sweat, blood & tears

there's me standing in the corner
waiting to hand you your ticket and lure you in

there's angels and devils praying that you make it to the end of the tour
elle Apr 14
i've always struggled to understand time.
how it can never seem to wait.

time leaves you breathless, as you're trying to reach back into the present, but always falling farther behind.

time doesn't forgive.

time won't halt its rhythm for you.
it’s selfish, isn't it?

no matter how much someone can try,
everything will keep moving.

like the fan's blades, the pages of the book my eyes can't seem to look away from, or the clock's hands, only ever stopping if the batteries lose its power.

even the beating of my eyes, blinking heavily.

time keeps counting, no matter how much you hate it.
you’ll never be young again, you'll never be in that moment you long to be in forever.

time hates waiting, so it won't.
writing about time
Galdev Mar 30
There's someone who coming with empty bag
The footsteps is stopping in the middle of room
Crying without anyone know

There's someone who thinking about their complaints
Her/his efforts just like dust on air
Flame of vigor is gone

There's someone who so afraid to get out of here
Shame, guilt, worry, confuse
Don't know where she/he will go

There's someone who still standing right here
And someone is me
This is about rest from world business. Sometimes, we feel sad or even exhausted.
TG Feb 13
What is wrong with me?

What makes you leave?

Why am I getting rejected every time.

All these times I opened my heart for the purest kind of love.

And then, off they go.

Is it really me or are they offended by my potential….
I think more people can cope with this. U ask yourself the question, why does nothing last, why do they lose interest or do they walk away, what is going on. You can completely drown urself, or just ask urself the question, what is wrong with them? The could've had your purest love and they denied. Keep that love to yourself, and move on.
It takes a spectacular amount of strength
To hold back your tears
To keep it all in
Your troubles and your fears

Your heart wants to let it all out
But you don't want to feel vulnerable or weak
You’re scared to give in
To the comfort you seek

But eventually, you’ll crack
You let it out, you can’t take it no more
Your tears flow onto your cheeks
Your heart shatters onto the floor

But it feels good, to let it all out
Instead of letting it bubble inside
Yes, I’m in pain
But I don't need to hide

I have finally removed my mask
My broken heart is revealed
I am no happy child
My depression is no longer concealed
it feels good to cry, no?
Divya Sharma Jan 31
Tonight  is this year's first fog in the city  .It's smell approaches  me through the crevices on bottom of window frames .
Our days  of memories forbid me to sleep . My eyelids heave with the excitement at which my thoughts want to celebrate your immortality within me .My eyelashes are too heavy with tears to be lifted up .
I am reminded of the time when I was so scared of the water stretches and their depth until I looked deep in your eyes that flooded , held a hundred tides of reasons , an accumulation of all the why whirling on a monotonous note .
I am reminded of the lesson that pain isn't abstract , it heaves in the familiar undiscovered parts of my body   when I breathe in your absence.
I close my eyes tonight   and when I take the name of universe and god, I see the vision of your face . As I isolate from the worldly tantrums and try sinking deep in my conscience,  I am draped with the feelings you offered me in all ways .

Nuala Nov 2020
Can you hear me, can you feel me?
You can feel me
purple spiderwebs mark my *******
proving that you can
so if you can feel me why can't you hear me
i think i said no
i said no
but you're invading me still
unwelcomed visitor.
I closed the door and you don't have a key.
but you don't require one, do you
you have a lockpick. a lockpick on each finger.
the skeleton key on your tongue.
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