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silvervi Sep 2024
I'm not worried about my life
I am worried about my image
I am trying to strive and strive
Performing on a stage
Called life of strife
This life of strife

Hör auf, listen to me
Du bist nicht so wichtig
As it seems to be.
What? You feel hurt again?
I don't know what to do
My friend.

I don't know what to do, my friend.
Speaking to myself, to my Ego, trying to support myself, but there was certainly self-pity involved. This was back in 06/2023. Glad, I'm not in that dark place anymore. But if you are, keep going and moving forward in any imaginable way. Don't stop believing. Write as much as you need to. Be compassionate with yourself. Don't be ashamed to ask for help. You are a human being, too. <3
E Sep 2024
Do you know what I hate most about life?

I hate that it pushes you around
I hate that no matter how much control you think you have, you don't
I hate it's uncertainty
I hate it's prideful nature
I hate that it's a bully
I hate that it's a society
I hate the expectations
I hate it's constant change
I hate the loneliness
I hate the void
I hate the desire
I hate the constant chase
I hate the lack of absolute peace
I hate the culture
I hate the religion
I hate the division
I hate the choices
I hate the people
Oh God, I hate the people
I hate the routine
I hate the essence of it

But do you know what I hate the most about it?
What I hate about life?
That it does not end soon enough.

When my mind started to cloud, I began thinking out loud.
Asmita Ray Aug 2024
Black strings concealed in shadows
Winding our souls in its strong bonds
Shackled our boundless mind's hallows.
Swaying gleefully our sense of right and wrongs.

We dance like marionettes,
Underneath the hidden influence.
Our illusions soon confluence,
Draining a great river of effluence--
An effluence of unity and liberty.
Gaurav Gurung Aug 2024
Is it merely just a paper?

Born from nature, molded by hands

Timekeeper of history, curator of mortal demands!

From the moment a kid scribbles their first doodles

To the moment a person records his last.

Is it merely just a paper?



A child’s canvas of boundless dreams,

Where letters dance, and colors gleam.

An artist’s appetite for creation,

Where he shapes his imagination.



A man’s plea of proposal, a revolutionist’s voice

A royal decree, a gift! Or a nation’s cunning ploys,

An innocent airplane, a love letter or a terrible ransom,

A waste or a cheque of money- quite handsome!



It has the power to bring tears or a simple smile,

A bridge between hearts, across many a mile

In ink, in lead, in blood or in gold,

Written in it are valiant stories to be foretold



Written in it are-

“A B C D”,  “1 2 3 4”

“Apne matbhedo ko bhuljao aur Halla Bol !”

“Rohit weds Archana”

“He fought with honor”

“Sorry mom and dad, I couldn’t make it”



Carrier of Joy, Carrier of Sorrow

Plight of yesterday, Flight of tomorrow!



Is it merely just a paper?
Comment down your thoughts
Robert Ippaso Aug 2024
What if I can see it, smell it, almost touch it,
That gilded throne where I will proudly sit,
Would people think me mad,
Is my ambition so preposterous and bad.

And why not me, have I not earned this crown,
Someone not worthy of that queenly gown,
Bejeweled and composed for all to see,
My vassals all around, bowing deep to me.

Naysayers bleat I'm just an empty ship,
With lights and streamers pretending to be hip,
Without a cargo or destination clear,
Sailing in circles relying on the wind to steer.

But if we're given to analogies, what if I were a Trojan horse,
With clear intent and undisputed course,
Where guile and purpose rule the day,
The aim to soundly win not merely one to play.

Demean and underrate me at your peril,
I can pivot between angel and pure devil,
While my laugh is designed to be disarming,
It masks a side of me considerably less charming.

Everything I've wanted I've achieved,
A trajectory few would have believed,
Do you think I'll stop at this last jump,
And in so doing fully flatten Trump?
A political parody
azure Aug 2024
i was gifted by god
or so they say
“you’re a natural!” “be a writer!”
my words blew them away

and now I hold my pencil
my passion leads my hands
and as i sit here at my desk I realize
i ******* hate rhyming

you see, i said i hold my pencil
but i really hold my heart
and every verse i write for you i share a little part
of my life, my love, my story, and even now i start

to shed a little tear for we’ll always be apart
i know you’d get me dark star, the artists always do
and though my name is azure, i hate the color blue
and though you’ve got me rhyming, i’ll always hate that too

but you don’t care about my story
you only care about conformity
and so you put pressure pressure pressure
and as you press down on my “pencil”
suddenly i’ve lost the point
KofiKrafts Aug 2024
Drained
energy levels are sinking
Previously yarning to come
With ideas of the night racing round and round


Stranded
While people converse and dance
I remain glued to the wall in the corner
saying I'm good for the sake of others
Or for my preservation


How does one strike balance
No longer enjoying yourself
Because as you replays the night…
Only short words and broken smiles
Small talk and handshakes.


Visualising
the numerous outcomes was I to break free the chains of inward isolation
Picture what true desire burst to the surface
But if there is no need to act upon such emotion
Then is it more a fleeting thought
like walking past someone,
their face turned blurry as they can’t be separated from the pool of forgotten masses


Interactions are currency
Every conversation a coin snatched from the hand
Till I’m left spent leading me to pull away
And so I remain glued to the wall in the corner
Saying I’m good for the sake of other
My mask bolted shut.
Wilting in the darkness.
Abbyss Aug 2024
It saddens me, to look at the world..
Everyone walking around, with somewhere to be
But really just searching, for a way to feel free.
There's such unfairness
That genuinely disgusts me
But maybe we'd deminish it
If only we discussed things
Yet we lower our heads, and go about our day
Pretending everything around us, is actually okay
When there are countless people foodless
And even more homeless..
Yet I see copious amounts of empty houses..
Rotting away, cause there's "no one to house them"...

I mean It just doesn't add up
There's plenty of resources
For the lot of us...

But those with the power are ruining it all
Giving to a couple but taking from all

Sometimes, I just can't wait for God to come deal with them all..
For wickedness, to be wiped away
Any and all power, stripped away
To be held by The Perfection
That'll be here to stay
Though I still just pray that more would see
And in succession repent
And thereby be free
Nathan Lippmann Aug 2024
Society - Your best friend or your enemy. It lifts you up or lets you down. It holds you together or rejects you. It respects you or discriminates you. Makes jokes with you or about you.

Or isn't the society a joke, let's start over and together Form a new society where everyone is accepted no matter if you are sick, disabled, poor, what skin color, what gender she/he/it belongs to or which ****** orientation you are.

TOGETHER WE CAN BE THE CHANGE
Gaurav Gurung Aug 2024
A note of 10 rupees flies through the damp sky,
Perhaps some well-to-do might have dropped it,
Perhaps he might have even forgot about it
Or just didn’t give a **** about it.

The parentless piece of cash floating carelessly,
Finds shelter in the tender palm of a young boy,
The No-worth paper finds immense value with him
It’s now become something of great joy

With the cash in his hand, he leaps off of happiness,
With colors of imagination about to paint its spoilage,
“Should I buy the machine that roars?”
“No No, I’ll buy myself a castle!”
“Or should I buy some toys with this?”
Perhaps he’d never seen paper of value,
All he knew of wealth were some old wrinkled coins,
“Aman”, yelled his partner in crime,
“What do you have there?”
Both of their eyes gleamed with innocence,
The Cash allured them to spend it, To waste it

And now- As they walk proudly,
Acting like the richest people in the world,
They get the shock of their life.

They wanted to buy the whole shop of sweets,
But
The Shopkeeper handed them few pieces of toffees
With gentle hands clenching on the sweets with young rage,
With disappointment and realization they exit the stage.
A Social poetry highlighting childhood innocence and the difference of value of wealth
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