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Don’t you want to be — lonely?
Everyone’s doing it... now.
Humans in shells.
When love... no longer sells.

It’s the new craze —
Go on,
Try on these new chains.
It’s the new craze —
Dawn...
of a strange age.

Try some loneliness —
a quiet kind of pain.
Try some loneliness —
your own company...
in vain.

Don’t you want to be — lonely?
Everyone’s doing it now.
We can gather —
to be alone...
together.

It’s the new craze —
Setup in new chains.
It’s the new craze —
Dawn of a strange age.

Try some loneliness —
It’s colder
than it seems.
Try some loneliness —
It echoes
through your dreams.

Come on...
Be lonely.
Or you’ll be left behind.

Come on...
Be lonely.
Or you’ll be left behind.

Come on...
Be lonely.
Or you’ll be
left
behind.
ria 1d
and it’ll be as if it never happened.

and it’ll all fade away.

days and months and years
and nothing will be the same.

maybe you’ll be older and wiser
maybe you’ll be kinder

and it’ll all be a bad dream
something to shake you up from your sleep

and it’ll leave you to wonder
was it even real?

have i no wounds to heal?
the scars will thicken over
it’ll be brand new again

you’ll forget of love and war
and you will never mend

the tiny fracture in your armor
will create the same salt somber

that somewhere your heart is thieved
that somewhere, within me, your heart, it grieves.
aAr Oct 2024
How blue the iris grew.
How grey the clouds gathered.
As oak leaves wandered in the wind,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How high the crows soar.
How loud the crickets chirped.
As windows slammed in the wind,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How loftily the sky roars.
How quickly the gale moves.
As the willow whirled in the wind,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How the birds hurry home.
How the plants await the rain.
As my eyes ambled around them,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How the lightning flashed
and how the thunder crashed.
As i walk through my pale garden,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How heavy my heart.
How dreary the scenery.
As the gods wept upon me,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How it eclipse my tears.
How wholly it devoured me.
As i look upon my ephemeral life,
melancholia rushed through my vein.
when the weather match your mood <3
SirNoobiee May 12
I try.
I really do.
Nothing works.
Forgive me, will you?

I've loved.
It hurt.
Never again.
Care for me, will you?

I've tried to forget.
It always comes back.
Back to hurt me.
Protect me, will you?

I've hurt myself.
I many ways.
It helps me cope.
Stop me, will you?

I've tried smiling.
It never lasts.
I'm not happy.
Cheer me up, will you?

I can't breathe.
I can't live.
It hurts so much.
Help me, will you?
First poem, hope it's at least okay.
Reece May 7
There was a girl who danced in the rain.
No one understood her or cared for her pain.
She danced out in the puddles all alone.
No sun in sight, for it had set long ago.
She used the thunder booms to dampen her screams,
As she pondered through the pitter-patter, what everything means.
Sometimes the others would spray her with a hose,
Knocking her glasses off her nose.
They’d shatter,
Masked by the pitter-patter,
They’d laugh at her,
Since it didn’t matter to them.
She was going through a storm with winds like a hurricane.
All that the others saw was a girl going insane.
All that she wanted was someone to listen to her cries,
But all that anybody did when they looked her way was sigh.
She danced throughout the night,
The lightning lit up the sky.
She would have danced till the end of time,
If he hadn’t stepped into her life.
He took her hand,
Stopped her from spinning around.
The rain fades away from where they stand,
And she finally feels found.
The girl who danced in the rain,
Found a partner for her ballet.
Sometimes it's okay to dance in the rain. If the conditions were perfect, I might find it soothing
Robert Mar 30
Paradoxical is the passage of time.
It breaks many of strong men without thought;
Without reason to hold or sight of a rhyme.
Giving meaningless goals and pointless fights to be fought.
Yes, Paradoxical is the passage of time.

Many will seek out its foreboding end.
They'll wander aimlessly in its wave-like pull.
Only to find there are endless bends.
but as all do, they'll continue on, in this life so cruel.
Oh, paradoxical is the passage of time my friend.
Joy is a little thing,
A warm luxury in the chill of winter's winds,
One sparkling treasure in the face of somber spring rains.
Happiness is a man,
Roaming the midnight city streets,
Tossing gold glitter all over the way as he skips along.
Pleasure, a soft blanket on your bed,
A perfectly placed pillow to rest your head,
A pencil that never runs out of pencil lead.
Everything is diamond when relief rears its head,
Assuring as the autumn breeze,
Pushing around stray sticks and leaves.
Nothing like a smile to make the warmth of the world stay awhile
nicole Feb 6
9-2-24   9:07pm

why are mornings
the worst part of the day

when your mind begins to trace
the quiet echoes of their absence

even at night
before drifting to sleep
while lying awake
with your thoughts going
a mile a minute


it's because the crickets remind me
of you
the still air
your books
your scent
your smile
your laugh
your lips
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