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I am not my own strength – nor am I my own words
I am not the sum of silver, or rich as the world,
Nor even close to a sliver of gold.

I am not my future – or any better than my own past
I am all of my mistakes made in the present,
And all of the things, hoping to come to pass
Nowhere near a love that endures without question –
Nor the calm; being a life of many, many scars.

I am the quiet battles, that tears praise my triumphs,
The stillness in inner storms, battling emotional riots –
Marvel of flesh, fragile code; built of miracle science
Living in society’s endless bias, where the little
You hope to give, is the hope that will be trampled
Beneath the heels of Giants.

A faith that’s ALWAYS under intense heat
And so many pressures; pressed and refined,
I emerge as a Beautiful Diamond.
josef 2d
scared shitless of the idea that
in a month i’ll probably never see
him again

a constant in my life ever since year 7
someone who awoke something in me
allowing me to see who he is
what am i
without him anchoring me
like a drifting ship to shore
W
She Forgot to Shine*

She watched from shadows, their laughter so bright,
Drawn to their glow, mistaking it for light.
Their crowns gleamed gold, their steps so proud,
She shrank in silence, lost in the crowd.

She painted her face in their borrowed hue,
Wore smiles not hers, masked what was true.
She mimicked their walk, their giggles, their grace,
But nothing she did could win her a place.

She dimmed her glow to mirror theirs,
Traded her truth for secondhand stares.
Ignored the whisper, soft and low—
“Your light is rare, let it show.”

But she wanted their warmth, their golden stage,
So she silenced her fire, caged her rage.
Fed on envy from morning’s first breath,
Planted deceit, reaped hollow death.

O’er—what a sorrowful, sorrowful soul,
Plunged into the very image of perfection,
Drowning in the fleeting fame,
Choking on praise never meant for her name.

She wore their shine, but it burned her skin,
For light not yours won’t glow within.
Now alone, in a mirror she stares,
At a girl who vanished chasing glares.

A ghost of hope, a shadowed shell,
Trapped in a dream that felt like hell.
Her own light waits where she left it behind—
But not all stars get a second time.

Some stories end not with silence, but with a flicker too late—
And a light forever lost to a path never meant.
It is not every time in  one chases someone
Because at the end all is vanity.
Always grooms the light that is within
Because that is the one that shines brightest
Shivam Sehgal May 20
WE OFTEN HIDE BEHIND THE NAME OF FEAR!
WELL, WE ARE ALL GROWN UP NOW.
WORRIED ABOUT FALLING BUT HAVE WINGS,
A WAY TO FLY, BUT NOBODY IS HERE NOW!
BURIED LITTLE ONE ARISES, SPREADING BEAUTY AND LOVE.
EXCEPTIONALLY WARM MUSIC MADE DELICATE FEATHERS UNCONSCIOUS.
HEAVEN SEEMS REAL, LIFE BECOMES ALIVE.
SUDDENLY TUK-TUK-TUK ---
THE DITCH REAPPEARS AND FEATHERS BECOME HEAVY.

By: Shivam Sehgal
Growth

Self-Discovery

Hope

Symbolism

strong
Adnan Hasan May 19
"We go through life without knowing where we’re headed… We run from things without understanding why they chase us. We do everything expected of us—except what we truly desire. We speak endlessly, yet imprison the words we long to say. Lost in tales of the past and those we’re living, torn between dreams we cling to and those that slipped away unnoticed. We grow accustomed to all that happens and has happened to us, facing life while neglecting ourselves. Our hearts are wearied by fate’s whims and exhausted by the weight of passing days."
Call me a failure,
a scissor-less tailor.
But I’m not a terrorist—
I’m a trial-and-errorist!

I fall into fire,
then rise even higher.
I seek inner flash,
not just piles of cash.

Accept that I’m different—
I don’t swim with the current.
I’m not here to conform;
I’m here to transform.

Born to learn,
my brain’s a disk to burn.
Life runs on zero-one—
The sky holds the moon and sun.

Each soul crafts its story,
So I’m not so sorry
for narrating mine—
whether I fail or shine.

Write. Rewrite. Restart.
My life itself is the art.
A personal manifesto in verse — celebrating failure, transformation, and the courage to rewrite one’s life. A poetic ode to resilience in a world that demands conformity.
Kellonor May 12
Time stood still and you were there,  
Golden girl with windswept hair.  
But time moves on, it will not wait,  
It left me at the garden gate.  

The wind crept in through silent cracks,  
Like memories that pull me back.  
Your presence once lit up my skies,  
Without you, love just slowly dies.  

The sunlight reached the isle unknown,  
Where echoes rest and dreams have flown.  
A place of sorrow, soft and deep,  
Where yearning sings itself to sleep.  

The notes now whisper in my ear,  
Let go the weight, release the fear.
Yet still I ask with breath held tight,  
Which voice in me is truly right?  

Vines grew around the rocks I knew,  
They held me fast, as doubt still grew.  
So I left one truth for all to see

Be yourself, and you’ll be free.
Written under the spell of a melody
JAMIL HUSSAIN May 10
Turn thy beautiful eyes toward me,
Not as mere mortal meets the sea,
But as the dawn with reverent flame
Beholds the night, and speaks its name.

A pilgrim lone, through shadowed vale,
I seek the breath behind the veil.
Not ease I crave, nor lover’s kiss,
But that which dwells in deeper bliss.

The world is but a fleeting shade,
Its glories brief, its colours fade.
Yet in thine eyes—a sovereign fire,
That stirs the dust with old desire.

Not roses red, nor spring’s perfume,
But Truth that blossoms from the tomb.
A voice that calls from heights unknown,
To rise, to stand, to be alone.

Thy gaze recalls that golden hour
When man walked forth in sacred power.
Thou art the mirror vast and wide,
Wherein my higher self doth hide.

So turn thy gaze, and lift me hence
Beyond the stars, beyond the sense.
Let this poor self in light be lost—
For all is gain, whate’er the cost.
The Eye Within the Eye 10/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Be a poem, O’ Prettiest, not mere breath—
A song that lingers past life and death.
Not dust in the wind, nor fading light,
But verses born of truth and might.

Do not doze in slumber’s keep,
While dreams like stars in silence sleep.
Be the lamp that greets the morn,
The spark from which the soul is born.

Within your veins a rhythm flows,
A secret only silence knows.
Time bears a tune that waits in you—
A golden song, eternal, true.

Kindle your core, let spirit rise,
For heaven sees through watchful eyes.
Be not a whisper lost to air,
But voice of fire, bold and rare.

You are no myth, no fleeting flame—
But sacred blaze none dare to tame.
If storms of time you do not bind,
Then be the tide that stirs mankind.

This world’s a stage, a shifting mist—
Be its refrain, O’ Prettiest.
A cry, a kiss, a sacred sign—
The mirror where all truths align.

Ask not the worth of your own name—
You are the self, the living flame.
Be melody the soul reveres,
Love’s voice that echoes through the years.
Be a Poem, O’ Prettiest 09/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
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