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ryn Jul 2023

I’ve grieved…
Not so much over what was lost.
More so the way
I tried to bury these memories.

that for a time once,
stoked hale,
unflickering flames.

All tied to strings
that lead straight to my heart
and all partially buried…
In many a shallow grave.


Perhaps because a deeper tomb
would mean a lesser purchase
and looser grip on these strings.

I never could let go…

Monika Jan 2023
Ah the stillness.
I start to feel it.
The strain it causes my joints
hurts the same
with the friction of motion.

Ah the strings.
They start to feel it.
The tension from the stillness
will force them
to break
like when it controls my limbs.

The strings eventually snap.

My arms turn limp.
My legs turn limp.
My neck turns limp.

The joints then soon cracked.

My arms fall off.
My legs fall off.

My head falls off.
LC Apr 2022
they stuff "yes, no matter what" / "you're always wrong" / "what will people say?" / into a flimsy puppet skin / rigidly moving the strings in one direction / whenever someone comes over / they mount the puppet on the wall / proudly showing off their prized creation.
but when their eyes come to a close / the puppet feels scorching strings on its shoulders / it reaches inside / gutted by what it sees / one by one / it examines each phrase / it takes everything out / replaces it with "no" / "I am not always wrong or right" / "what do I say?" / and slowly snips the strings off its shoulders / so it can walk freely.
Escapril Day 14! Prompt: taxidermy (the art of preparing, stuffing, and mounting the skins of animals with a lifelike effect).
This is my take on the prompt! Thank you for reading.
Kai Jan 2022
In the reserved room built with teenage angst
sat a guitar waiting for a dear friend.
My quick fingers were tentative to touch.
I listened to the chords I brought about—
played a tangle labyrinth. I wish to quit.

Was that a G sharp or a B flat note?
Frustration brews like a furious storm.
I wanted to toss everything away.
This instrument? Not mine. And that is that.
Too embarrassed by my ineptitude.

I loathe guitars! I cannot play them right.
That riff was supposed to be heavy metal.
Not math rock, but it’s enough to settle.
That might change if I use guitar pedals.
Cmon, keep your head high. Let it stay bright.

A friendship with my guitar has begun.
There are bounds I’m still trying not to reach.
And one day, I’ll be good enough to teach
or possess an audience at the beach.
Hey, the guitar is becoming quite fun!

****, metal. I’m a stoner rock artist.
I can play bends, solos, and vibrato.
Look, I even came up with a motto:
to thrive, start with anger in a bottle.
With my advice, you will go the farthest.

My fingers’ pink blush irritates my skin.
Still eager to play. I ignore the sore.
It doesn’t feel like a chore anymore.
This instrument? It’s mine. It led to doors.
It helped me find heaven and become kin.
Learning the guitar's not easy, eh?
Danielle Aug 2021
There is another thing that the sky is covering up to, parallels are invisible strings that connect us.

You are a myth that the muses talk about,
they tell me how far the stars
that I wouldn't reach you
and how I wander my hands on my brokenness.
It was the traces of how beautiful the blue in your eyes
and the memories of red lanterns
lighting up our way home,
I feel the terror of we might forget
the sound of the eerie cold night.

Parallels are constellations in the skies as if we are remnants of history,
Each night we wished we exist.
Brumous Jun 2021
Love can't be the solution for all,
I'm alright dancing alone,
waltzing with echos in the halls

It might be lonely,
but I am enough to keep me company

Stay away from me,
If love would hurt, I'd love myself first
Shut the door; needing it isn't a necessity.

I'll have the red string untied,
free from the boundaries of love
Taking a meaningless joyride,
from dawn to midnight
taking in the world so wide
It's enough having a friend by my side.

Pas Seul - /ˌpä ˈsəl/
a dance for one person.
I prefer listening to songs while writing. This song feels calming since I've been blasting loud songs this past few days. I also used this song so that I can write it with a tad melody of some sort.
Danielle Jun 2021
My footsteps were memorizing
the cracks of the floor,
vines creep along the grounds
as the constellations,
they are the patterns to my wonderland.

Gold flush,
rose blush
You are beautiful in my memories
and I unlocked  the box of my dreams,
wounds are deeper than to what I feel
Stitched with the strings I tied to you,
People are vines as they fall in despair.
Words left unsaid
John McCafferty May 2021
Infinity curls on and in itself,
opposing motions continue to spin.
We're drawn upon to observe
the urges of others in ourselves.

Waves unseen through idle eyes,
stillness mounts to moments of uttering.
When the sirens sing amongst us
translucent strings pull from within.

Propelled through unified switches,
laws of enchanted lure are felt.
Reflected thoughts enforce or repel,
concluded no ends over again.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Nylee May 2021
Why bind me to my own words
You are free from all the strings
I am not moving in years
But you've been flying ever since.
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