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Äŧül 13h
I don't know how I'll arrange funds.
Funds for the operation,
Funds for the serious surgery.

I can seek help from my parents.
But I am their ligation,
Both of them must be weary.

I wanna arrange the money by myself,
From my own PhD remuneration,
For the treatment & operation.

Or maybe from my novel sales,
If 100 more copies sell,
I can have enough money for surgery.

See if you can help me at all,
Its story is the best I can tell,
And poetry is its decoration.
My HP Poem #1780
©Atul Kaushal
Anna Sep 16
Our smoke was all over the room
Oh you said it was killing you
But we were killing the seconds
Lying on your mom's carpet.

Oh, my time killer
Don't rush it
Running towards the minutes
Scaring the hours.

No need of caffeine
You had the adrenaline in your blood
You were in a hurry.

Now my feet don't touch the ground
They touch your feet
No way down, do you feel me?
It’s not every second of the day that I want to be bitter
And don’t say I’m not because I know I am, I admit it,
And it’s a colossal amount of seconds that I don’t care about being bitter,
But it isn’t all of them.
Not really.
Cassia Jul 27
Have you ever felt
A love so strong
That you'd dive into battle
No weapon but song?
Have you ever felt
A loss so great
That you'd realize you'd shattered
Ten seconds too late?
Philomena Jul 12
Days turn to hours,
Hours to minutes,
Minutes to seconds.
Time slips away,
Faster and faster with every moment,
Until I'm stranded without you.
Poetic T Jun 27
I regret the singular second
        before this infinite gap

of beneficial significance.

But once it wonders past me,

   tragedy befell the passing as
          it died to its decay.
never being used to potential.

So solitary in relevance.

But everything withers,
                                some remembered
in passing, but most forgotten
within the seconds that have faded
                         so many times before.
Lilly F Jun 26
another day another wallowing moment
in this unfamiliar skin
searching for the component
that feels missing deep within

another hour another feeling
how they change so quickly
my back tied to the ceiling
lack of control making my stomach feel sickly

another minute another headache
come and go in a blink
I pray that they stop for my sake
too tired to even think

another second another toll
on my head filled with words
needing something plentiful for the soul
ears longing for the sweet tunes of songbirds

the pain beneath my eyes
showing the purple and blue taint
my mind up till sunrise
wearing my exhaustion like a canvas wears paint


© L.F.
These tired moments i'll miss
Whenever I get healthy
This phase of depression which I only know
As reality now, I'll solve later

Once it has been solved I'll miss these
Quiet nights
When the wind
The breeze
The draw
The sigh
The bark


I can't continue
I'm missing out right now on the seconds I claim to cherish
So forgive me but I'll continue,
Another time
Imagine that everyday, someone would give you
86,400
dollars.
Everyday,
you would have to spend every cent of this money,
or else it would all be taken away
from you.
Though you get this money everyday,
you never know
what it's going to end.
What would you buy
for
86,400
dollars everyday?
Remember,
you have to spend it all!
A house,
                        a car,
                                                     a business,
                                                                          an island?
Now how would you react if I told you
that you have this
bank of money
in your life and can use it
as you please?
Is money just
a diget
for you,
or is it more?
Then let me tell you that there are
86,400 seconds
in 24 hours?
How you use this time
and what you do with it
is up to you.
All I can do is suggest you use it wisely.
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