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Emilia 3h
I find my life to be a puzzle
And you often might to
And that's something that might make me
A little more like you
Puzzles cannot be the same
Or else they'd be no fun
And sometimes life may seem the same
Until the day is done
The puzzles in life are hard to solve
And I’m sorry to say
That, that’s the thing about life
It won’t get better on the way.
Sometimes life feels like a puzzle that you just can't put together no matter how hard you try. but in the end your going to find the right piece and its all going to click. One day its going to happen, I promise.
When the sorrow you kept inside starts to burn in a cigarette,
When a genius of science starts writing poems,
And when someone who never listens to anyone starts listening to poems,

With a laptop bag on my shoulder,
Far from home, in a strange city, at a station,
When I see a child crying in his mother’s lap,
I smile and remember my own home,
That’s when life makes sense.

When sleep gets lost in the dark pits under your eyes,
That’s when life makes sense.
When you face words like rent, ration, electricity, and water,
When a fearless heart begins to feel a little scared,
When the burden of home responsibilities starts weighing on your shoulders,
That’s when life makes sense.

When the one who once cried to get a toy,
Now smiles but takes the wounds,
When someone with a heart of stone is broken like a flower,
When someone more precious than life leaves you alone on the road,
That’s when life makes sense.

When making friends seems more difficult than staying alone,
When a dried rose kept in a diary feels more important,
When someone you see in the mirror feels like a stranger,
That’s when life makes sense.

When you want to cry but can’t,
When you grow so big that in the middle of family fights,
You stand firm and when someone asks, “Is everything okay?”
And you say, “Everything’s fine,”
That’s when life makes sense.

When the lie spoken by your lips
Is revealed as truth by someone’s eyes,
When the dreams of someone get devoured by the crowd around them,
When the silence in the room shouts loudly in your ears,
That’s when life makes sense.

When you realize that nothing is like the destination,
When you understand that there’s no destination like the one imagined,
There’s only the road, far and wide,
When the day doesn’t begin even after the sun rises,
When nothing works the way you want it to,
When a grand house has no one to call home,
That’s when life makes sense.

When the moon doesn't show the marks of aging,
When the moon doesn’t show the imperfections and stains,
When the tunes of songs fade into the words of the songs,
When the tears saved all day fall onto the pillow,
That’s when life makes sense.

When coming home on time in the evening seems right,
When the sorrow you kept inside starts to burn in a cigarette,
When a genius of science starts writing poems,
And when someone who never listens to anyone starts listening to poems,

That’s when life makes sense.
That’s when life makes sense.
Love, **** it, still doesn’t make sense.
The line between madness,
The line between normality,
The price to pay for loneliness;
I ought to pay with sincerity.

In a world of madness,
The normal are insane,
The right are arcane,
And the abused are ridiculed by sadness.
I ought these days to go aflame,
For now, my madness, needs no blame.
There is no notes to be.
I Am The CaveDweller

My soul is bound to the comfort of night.
I see peace in the eyes of those walking in light.
Why is mine a lonesome, misbegotten path?
Bound to my darkness, with blackness, my craft.
They see vividly what I see in smears.
I'd rather be Blind, never seen it more clear.

I Am The DeathEater

My path, criticized. My love, mistaken.
My truths, demonized. My intentions, forsaken.
I exist in my very own questionable ways.
Is what they may say. But yet, either way,
They have failed to explain such a lack in my soul,
The obligation to judge someone's ways, or my own.

I Am The DreamKeeper

I only doubt the meta-space where I belong.
At any given time, my intention is not wrong.
Why am I undeserving of the blessing of eyes,
Capable of enjoying this dreadful paradise?
Designed in a way to be loved in its allure.
Yet my reality holds a truth morbid and obscure.

I am The FleshKiller

My outward darkness veils a radiant light.
For under the skin, I am truly alive.
Aware of the truths, of the infinite "you",
The finite "you" hides from others, and you.
I criticize my flesh as if I’m it's maker.
I'm ashamed of this life. But I'm not a LifeTaker.

I Am The LightBringer

The allure of light is heartbreaking.
As I remain in my statuette state of polarity,
I will only dream of me belonging.
It remains and sustains, acceptance and peace.
Yet for me, they remain just out of my reach.
I die by the hour while soaking in bleach.

I Am The FatePainter

I'm a sinful sonnet, a broken poem within.
With my creative means to my own creative end.
The TruthCraving LieBreaker, known as my head.
Screaming “This is the end. You'll never begin again..."
Yet I face another canvas, this in mind, for my sake.
Every stroke I can make, paints my darkest mistakes.

I Am The MindShaper

Limited possibilities of existence make me numb.
I understand every start brings a darker outcome.
Is there really no promise, of existential peace?
Can a bright soul, entrapped, ever be set free?
I only question form, from within this faulted case.
In metaphysical space, I've been put in my place.

I Am The EndSeeker

I cannot obtain, what I have never seen.
To live and show love is to live a true me.
I'm a creature of creation, On this abysmal planet.
I'll orbit the sun, I will suffer, then I'll vanish.
I float above the black. Trapped below the white.
****** hands washed with tears, as I carve out my light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
Even in a slanted world, she does not slip,
Even when she returns to a circle with no exit,
She moves forward as if it were the first time.

Living on a borrowed small leaf,
Filling her belly with a single drop of dew,
Rejoicing with her whole being at a petal carried by the wind,
I wishes to pass through life with steps slower than anyone else.
Hey, younger me,
wipe those tears—yes, I see them.
You think love will last just because it feels endless,
but listen, not everything meant forever stays.
And that’s okay.
Not all wilted petals mean the flower was unworthy,
some were just never meant to be held too tight.

And you, future me,
are you smiling? Have you learned to breathe?
Tell me, did we finally stop carrying the weight of every goodbye?
Did we find softness in the mirror,
or are we still chasing ghosts of what could’ve been?
I hope we learned to love without fear,
to rest without guilt,
to speak without swallowing the words.

And me, standing here,
torn between the aching past and the uncertain tomorrow—
What do I do with all this?
With the lessons, the heartbreak, the hope?
I guess I keep walking,
one step for the child who dreamed,
one for the future waiting ahead,
and one, just one,
for the me that exists right now.
Emilia 7d
The taste of blood is like rust
Its inky black
running down the side of my cheeks from my hollow heavy eyes

The smell of shadows is like death
Dark and stale and cold, freezing my stone heart heart to my lungs

The feel of dark sharp black lines, is sharp and stinging
It overwhelms my head and floods my mind till all I can do is cry

And then the blood flows freely from my eyes
The blood of the taste of rust

Shadowless forms come and call me
They think that they shine
They think they have body’s of light and hollows of gold
But they really have horns and tails with sharp spines

They never wonder what it is, whipping at their backs
Yet when the call to me
There tails spear my chest, and leave me bleeding dark sharp lines

The lines that overwhelm my head
and flood my mind until all I can do is cry
Then the blood flows freely from my eyes
The blood of the taste of rust

Then when I come to my place called home
I can feel the shadows breathing in all of the air that is supposed to be mine
Growing bigger and bigger
Like the shadowless forms that come and call me
That whip me with their tails
Making me bleed dark sharp lines
That feel so heavy that all I can do is cry
And the blood starts to flow from my eyes
The blood of the taste of rust
Some may feel that their body is not what it should be. That their blood tastes like rust, that the shadows around them smell like death, that they are filled with dark sharp lines that will overtake them at any minute. To those some, know that there will always be another like you, and that we will never all feel perfect and that no matter how broken you may feel, or how broken the shadowless figures are making you, you are here for a reason. You always will be, the world will never feel the same without you in it.
I need you to help me
answer the questions.

I need you to help me
take off my masks.

I need to see
the roles I am playing.

I need to hear
the lies I’ve been believing.

I need to feel
what I’ve been avoiding.

I need you to help me
become
who I am meant to be.

Please,
tell me the story
I’ve been telling myself.

Please,
my higher self,

show me where
I am hurting myself.

Show me where
I am neglecting myself.

Please,
my higher self,
speak to me.

Tell me with love.
Tell me with kindness.
Emilia Mar 18
I look into the mirror and slip past its glass surface
Past the mirror is a strange land, a nice land at some times
but most times you cant tell,
since the land past the mirror always hides how it feels
You have to go so so so deep to truly know
But this is expected, since the land past the mirror mirrors me

The trees look twisted and weird past the mirror
Since the land past the mirror mirrors me
Never fitting in with their surroundings
Always changing into something increasingly worse

Everyone past the mirror knows so much
So much
They brag about it all the time
They flaunt there facts in the faces of flawed people
For few people past the mirror are not flawed
Figures since the people past the mirror mirror me

The ground past the mirror is always shaking
It never stops to take a breath
Triggering tremendous tremors that take total control
So much time is trashed, during these tremors
The ground seems to shake as if, everyone is watching it,
And as if it is never enough
And even though everyone sees the ground shake
Shaking as if it cant belong a place in the world
They walk on it anyway
True this since technical, topics past the mirror mirror me

The water past the mirror is  never still
It is sloshing and slugging so swiftly
Some sing songs to the water
And some of the songs sooth the water
Making it so smooth that you can see silver stones shining in the bottom
Soon though the songs are not enough
The water sees things is doesn't understand
Confused the water is.
Always confused
But such is the things past the mirror
Since the things past the mirror mirror me

Moments past the mirror make my mind murky
Mumbling people tell me my mind needs fixing
Maybe they're right
But maybe the land past the mirror is made for me
For my mangled mind to comprehend and understand
Some people look in the mirror and see themselves
Now don't get me wrong, i see myself, but I don't see my face
I see things mirroring myself
Meaning in simplest terms
I see me, in a way that I can understand
Instead of faces, that always deceive
Instead of body’s that look different from my sight
Instead of eyes that can change in the quickest instance
I see in my mind in a way that I can be sure that I'm not lying to myself
As we all so often do
NK Mar 16
Take me to the movies
Tell me something you mean
Give me something I can cry about
Give me something I can feel

I've been miserable
My heart's been impaired
My mind's enraged
As if I would break

But these tears
It won't come out
Because I'm afraid
Please, let me cry
I think I was taught unconsciously to ignore my feelings. Especially the little stuff that would make me upset. But lately, these little upsetting moments keep pilling up, but I can't cry, because somehow it's too trivial. I want to find a big enough of an excuse so tears can fall down my eyes. Like movies, something touching  or scary. But I think I'm afraid showing vulnerability.
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