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Redaviel Nov 2019
A small girl
With dreams and ambitions
Stuffed in her backpack
Humming, she waits while staring
At the other side of the station
Where people, different ages and stories
Wait for the same train

She is alone, it doesn't bother her
It is life that is in front of her
Life that is one way and short
Life that passes by in a blink of eye
Life that is worthwhile, even if painful
Life that is young, yet old
Life that is the way it is meant to be

The train she's waiting for came suddenly
It's time to pack up and leave this station
Life must go on, even if it rains
The memory of youth and a simple world
Isn't just the place for her anymore
This is for her own good, destination bound
To a new home
Adulthood
Neo Dore Oct 2019
School? Tsk...Tsk...Tsk. What a spectacle.
I hear the bell chiming already- ding...ding...ding
Then sick and scowled, we'd walk right to were we were meant to be. "Meant to be". Heart pounding 'cos if we were late!? Or in the wrong place or mixed up the wrong dates!? No...no...no that was trouble. "The bell is the voice of God"  The priest(s) would say, each day, "and when it rings you must obey" A bell? I thought, the voice of God? I chuckled.

I remember the shadows of the seminarians watching.
The irate stare and feign smile. Weren't these men of God!?  They came in new and good, but give them a day or two and...and my God!!!
There were rumors of bizarre things that happened behind closed doors, no one "saw", but walls. I know someone was there. Had to be! When the last bell rang, and the lights faded out. People became monsters. It changes people. And it would, you too because real monsters are in the light and you too are one of them.

The mass either left you hungry and empty, guilty and filthy or just feeling good about yourself for no good reason because some preacher said: "Hark, all worries will be left behind, and all disappoint too, will be gone forever..."  It was the same thing, day in and day out. One man's crime was all mens'. And our tongue just clung to our mouth because who would dare raise a finger in anger to a priest? God's delegate.  There were rumors.  

There were rumors no one would admit they saw until dusk when the light-out hour came and we streaked together muffle and scoffled about everything. It was either that or we tried, however, we could to get food. Some even looted goods, black and white was the code and we hid it safe as gold. You won't get it. Sometimes people would go as far as...sign  

****...****...****
Heavy eyed and tired. The bell snaped you from your dream back to this hellfire. And before you blinked you were in class
Then smell of dry papers and ink, sound of pens screeching and then you see.
Students hastily walking to where they are meant to be? "Meant to be!?"
Teachers, few, pretty as rose and others old and cold. All claiming they had gold to impact on us. Most times, the men, well tucked, some tall and maybe bit lanky.

The priests were like ghosts. Some went as far as saying Godly. Their bellowing white-blue cassock whipped by, and while some would sigh, others would hush and some would rush to where they were meant to be. Meant to be. Now ghost quiet, staring from somewhere was the priest ghost silent...



.
Jay Jul 2019
Droppin' on in,
It's been a minute since we've talked,
Your hair has grown,
Your face has faded,
It used to be brighter
If memory serves.
Have you been well?
New job? New love?
Only if you don't mind.
Have you heard that new song?
Have you seen that movie?
How's that startup idea gone?
Where has all the time gone?
We should talk again sometime.
Or not,
Whichever you prefer.
hello frens
Caien Musharraf Jul 2019
What ever you say all hormones are alike
If you ever are ****** you can still ride a bike
He knows you are not that type who gets a hype
Methadone to **** the pain sown ***** still to ripe
His throne is prone he loves to be disliked
Blown in the mind of his clone waiting for that airstrike
For his right he is thrown, torn to that hunger strike
He is flown to a very ape like creature
Those DC motor and its armature
Studying all this Physics literature
Visiting the church and the mosque then their preacher
Shaking hands with the traitor
Confused by those myths about the creator
Tired to type, giving command s to the narrator
He can't speak in a tone, does not own a smart phone, fighting the world all alone still in the dark, unknown
But he has let it go to keep his toes on his throne
His thoughts are like seed sown and flown with water
He is about to drown but I know he will get his crown though he is a starter
Eyithen May 2019
I am struggling to find my place in a world that is looking to plunge a knife between the chinks of my armor.
A world that will **** as quick as is it is to defend.
Eyithen May 2019
I want...
              To write...
                               A happy poem...
                                                              But I am...
                                                                                  Still waiting...
                                                             For the day...
                                      When I...
                  Will be...
  Truly...
                                ...Happy.
Nimisha Yadav Feb 2019
She
She is a queen,
The colour of love,
The symbol of affection,
The goddess for all.
She owns a kingdom,
With different shades to portray
Each with a meaning,
Do with it what you may.
She is an enchantress,
But I do not respect her.
She might be mesmerizing,
But that's not how I see her.
She could help you win the king
And also a princess.
She could help you win some hearts
But, oh she is treacherous.
She deceits you with her beauty,
And betrays you with her scent.
Once if you cut her,
She is nothing good but dead.
Knowing all this,
Only then do I ask,
Darling, is this what you want?
Roses?
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