Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
chang cosido Jun 13
I wish for the emptiness,insecurities, and hatred to leave.
And leave nothing but their footprints,
their sound and their silence.
A little reminder that they were once here.
Like some of my friends.
I wish to thank them soon for leaving.
Because apparently,
I only have a few room in my heart-
for one thing or another.
And it could no longer be
for things
that doesnt wish to stay.
stillhuman May 31
Stranger in the night
come on, i will bite
now, what is on your mind
as our destinies intertwined
caused us both
to need someone to confide
the worst thought on our minds

At almost 2 a.m time
we both need to remind
ourselves of the imperfection
of humankind
and I really wouldn't mind
a hand to be kind
and a shared glass of wine
to blurt out
all those slimy thoughts
that won't leave

And for less than that
I would listen and chat
acceting your words spat
out to relieve the constant combat
going on in your head

So, drink up with
you stranger in the night
and if the wine doesn't help
I think talking just might
I feel some sort of companionship when I find someone awake at 2 am
RR May 12
There is a part of me you inspire
I've never met you,
never known you,
never asked you,
Is this the life you desire?
Maha May 8
how many times do I tap past your eyes
before you feel the twinge of regret
for letting my kite string go
when I chose to fly so low to you
about them
Hello hello
Friends, strangers, family
You can be one of these
Or all of them
But hello hello
To a greeting or nothing
I'll still say
Hello hello
Rox90 May 3
We are strangers
Not knowing who we are

But I would love to meet you someday
And travel every near and far

I would like to think you’re out there
Gazing at the crystal light star

Wondering who I am
The girl you thought of for so long
aphrodite Apr 6
kind eyes and crooked smile,
the inner child that shows its face in the morning
how strange to have been strangers once
how strange to be strangers once again
Hera Apr 3
You are the stranger,
I'm most familiar with.
don't call us “friends”
when all you do is pretend

act like you don't want to attack
but you'll do it behind my back

and all i've been was loving and nice
but you were threatened by my spice

you mistake me for being flirty
when you're the who did me *****

telling everyone i'm the one to hate
when all i've done was be a good mate

so go on and talk **** about me
and i get we all have our insecurities

but don't be fake and start talking ****
hurting other people is just not it

words are just as hurtful as fists
pain like this can exist on wrists

there's too much hate already being hurled
when are you gonna realize we need more love in this world?

if you're wondering if i'd ever do that to you
i don't have the heart to do what you did to me too

and in the end, i'd still care about you
even if our relationship decides to falls through
you took advantage of my kindness, i was so blind and completely mindless
Sharon Talbot Mar 26
Where do people go
When they are dispossessed?
When the home they know
Is no longer seen as theirs,
When their beds are tossed out,
And those boxes beneath the stairs
Regarded as trash by the soulless ****
Whose only motive is greed?
I have seen images of them in a group,
Walking down a road to nowhere,
Or out on desert sand, wandering.
Where can they go and not be harassed
By owners with no sympathy?
What boat will carry them to another shore
Where they are met with friendship
And not seen as enemies?
How strange and terrible to see them,
All walking in the same way,
Heads down and shoulders bent,
Many carrying a child
Or remnants of a home enfolded.
When they reach borders,
They are stopped and questioned,
Crowded, as are sheep in a pen.
So many are turned away
And some, desperate they become,
Board small boats with promises
To take them to freedom,
Only to founder and sink,
So that the sea becomes
Their last, dark home.
Others consider themselves lucky
To find a tent or metal van
Which they must take away
From those with property,
And keep moving, herded
Like those same sheep,
Yet now almost wild,
Huddling together with strangers
Near a fire in vast and empty lands
That play slow and vivid sunsets
To soothe the rootless host?
They tell each other stories
Of their home or hard journeys,
Give counsel to evade the dogs
That prey on those who wander.
And on those nights in endless lands,
And a dome not veiled by earthly light,
But dazzling the wanderers
With millions of shimmering stars,
That sends dreams of others gone astray
And they lament their fate as their own,
As unknown brothers and sisters,
Who, bewildered, weep for them as well.
This built on itself from a worry about where the people go when they are old or lose their homes. I then had images of people in a similar dilemma, at borders, such as the U.S./Mexico one, or refugees in the Middle East, or those made "nomads" by economic collapse and the decision to live in tents or vans, out under the sky--free but vulnerable. Also, some of this was inspired by "Nomadland".
Next page