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Bri Stokes Sep 28
Solitude is like a
feathered embrace.
Like a swell of moonlight
on dewy,
manicured
grass.
And should you go looking
for the magick--
for the secrets
unveiled
in stillness
and beats
that stretch for miles,
from one
shivering
heart
to another,
you’ll find realms of
untold dreams.
Rheems of
bursting starlight,
of long-squashed fantasies
in demand
of your attention.
Daydreams that unwind
until you’ve found
what you were searching for:
the secret,
long-lost
places
you hadn’t known
were long-since missing.
Without suffering, there is silence.
Megan Sep 22
Breathe me out slowly  
In your silhouette, I fall
Like your disciple
I’m not me at all
Words pull the trigger
To them, I’ll surrender
Begging for my mercy
Watch me at my feet
Surrendering to my ego
Megan Sep 22
Many moments pass me
And in a blitz I crave
Masking up the signals
In attempts to never change
But will it always serve me?
Only I'm to blame
Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?
That, they will keep saying
Maria Monte Sep 12
What is in a name?
An identifier. Christine. Paul. Bernard.
A sense of uniqueness. Foxy. The Rock. Buddy.
A personality. John. Chad. Karen.
A name is something to hold onto.

What is my name?
A label to keep me concrete when people forget
A phrase to pull me back down when I drift
An identity so that I don't mold into everyone else
My name keeps me together

But what does my name sound like?
I forgot where I placed my strengths
I forgot the way it was shaped to my body
My person slips away from the letters as they form into your mouth
and get lost in the bottomless sea of identifiers

Who am I?
Billboards and signs that paint "fragile" across a face like mine
Small, petite, figures that whisper "prey" and warn me of the big bad wolves
Unfamiliar faces that tell me that I am "too much" as my bones grind against them and their hands try to cup me smaller
there is nothing to keep me from vanishing

Who am I?
Worker # 187, making a dime as they make a dollar?
A father's daughter, a person to be handed and never to stand on it's own?
Am I my weakest moments?
Am I my triumphs?

Who am I?
My own mocking voice screaming, giggling, obscenities before I catch myself
My own motherly tone re-directing me from the bad roots in my childhood
I am this thing and then I am another
We are so inconsistent, as people

We forget to keep our names close to our hearts
To choose our own identities,
let ourselves remind each other that we are
who we choose to be.

My name, it echoes against the cages of my body
and it wraps around me
reassuring me, reminding me, piecing me back together
breathing life back into me.
Peculiar to be
An alternate alter
A thousand known, A thousand beware
Angst
Circumscribe to ye
A thousand dead, A thousand wiser
Another poem I've written last year on the thirtieth of July.
For the preoccupied mind
You will
Always be wrong
But
You don't have to justify
Genre: Observational
Theme: Examined Life
lk ode Aug 26
I wanna know your demons
I whisper
As I cut myself open
like a game of operation
delicate incisions
and steady hands,
looking
waiting
listening
for a sharp vibrating buzz
of discovery
Sirad Jul 25
He came into my life
To remind me
What pain feels like

He has a pure heart
But a troublemaker
And he stole my eyes

10 years later
I found it
Hidden in rotten flesh
Eaten by fruit flies

In it,
I found a dormant belief
That I deserve to be admired
maryem Jul 25
Lost pieces of you
You never knew existed
You will find them
In places WHERE
You never BOTHERED to look
*You will find those pieces of YOU, and you will like them

I WAS HERE :)
Talia Jul 25
Surrounded by darkness
Put myself in that harness
I think that’s the hardest
part to accept
realising you are the source of your pain
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