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Jake Devlin Dec 2022
Fear of wounds from the past
A broken man unearthed once again
Fear of unending convalescence
Stemmed from the spine of circumstance
Lingering pain of mistakes made in youth
Physical nightmares
Please forgive me, my corporeal self
My judgement was clouded
And now I am the better man
That I should have been back then
People say I'm lucky that I still breathe
A part of me died that day
They should of left me there, beneath the trees
Renn Pat Nov 2022
Dancing with myself
Twirling and dipping
Stepping and twisting
Leaping and falling
Swirling about like a snake wrapped up
Writhing, worrying, wringing
******* like a knot, too tight to loose
Hoping to pop before the noose
All in one moment, I hear the music
It stops me, and I absolve
Jammit Janet Sep 2022
I’m proud of myself
I was genuine and authentic
I felt myself grow
And become
The person I wish to be
In my soul.
Niamh Aug 2022
Sitting here waiting.
For what?
For a sign or a chance or an invitation.
I don’t really know.
But maybe it’s time for me
To become a sign or a chance or an invitation.

To stop waiting for the world to love me,
And instead learn to love myself
Like a butterfly who misses the many legs it once had
Back then when it could only crawl and climb
Like a flower that misses itself at its shortest stem
When it was just a seedling right before its prime

There are moments when nostalgia hits
Too much that it makes me unaligned
I ponder if I should regress to who I once was
Only to go against my evolutionary design

Or perhaps I just miss knowing I was loved
So I question whether again, I would find
Acceptance and belonging with fond memories
With the current identity I now reside

I could go back and make things simple again
Go along with what I’ve been assigned
It's been done before, a path predetermined
With the name I was given at the starting line

When I consider such a thought I feel much resistance
As though I am forfeiting without much of a fight
I feel caged, suffocated with helplessness
If I had to persist in a life limited to foresight

Know where I've been so I know where I’m going
Where is the bridge where these two paths combine?
To keep treading forward as I shed all that is unbecoming
Becoming a way of being I can personally identify
Ylzm Aug 2022
Self love is not love but anti-love
Parts are but to be mutually fitted
And imperfections only seeming
Ceasing to be in the perfected whole
But is not if any part seeks its own
A M Ryder Aug 2022
A lot of you
Would agree
That this world 
Would be a
Better place
Without me

I don't disagree 
In fact, I've been
Wanting to leave
It behind
For as long
As I can remember

So this is
The part where
I'll never recover,
The part where
Life takes me down,
And the scene
That scars
Forever
Vi Aug 2022
What's the fear that feeds the ink?

Who holds the censor pen?

Blacking out lines before they're uttered?

It's my dad, calling my mom "dramatic".

It's my mom, hurt in her eyes, saying "how could you". When I didn't mean to, or I didn't know, or I didn't properly gauge her reaction in advance.

It's online misunderstandings, always assuming the worst intentions: that I'm bad, or bigoted

That I'm dumb, uneducated or boring, redundant or mean.

It's previous partners and broken hearts

When what I couldn't give was mistaken with cold-heartedness, or stinginess or uncaring.


The good news

The truly good news

Is that I am non of those things

And I'm watching, as I speak

I'm watching that pen run out of ink
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