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LC Apr 15
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 8
I’m a rockstar; it’s true cause’ I said it.
Hair’s quite ****, just have to grow it out.
I’ll play til’ my hands bleed without a doubt.
I listened to the chords I brought about.
Okay, I sound like ****. I’m going to quit.

Was that a G sharp or a B flat note?
Excuse me for being a ****** brat,
but I’m going to start an angry chat.
This instrument? Not mine. And that is that!
Vexing it is, so I become remote.

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?
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.
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.
Daksh Apr 2021
Far away he went.
Holding hands

He writes about you,
sings about you

and he doesn't stop
neither does the people
watching him.

"And this one for this girl who loved me".

Strings had the ability to compress a lifetime of
a journey
into music.
annh Oct 2021
𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜
𝚃𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐,
𝙰𝚜 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎;

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎,
𝙴𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘-𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
𝙼𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚜;

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕,
𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎
𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢.

‘Springtime is upon us. The birds celebrate her return with festive song, and murmuring streams are softly caressed by the breezes.’
- Antonio Vivaldi
TIZZOP Jan 2021
decisions are based on forgetfulness
the agony of the sick child inside of me
i can't walk any further, i can't stay here
don't want to jump in front of an express train

the image of my little daughter is present
the way she utters the words "papa" and "hi"
papa is daddy in german, i want to live on
i want to die, i don't want to die in pity

dying an old man is better than suicide
the strings of despair are the strings of hope
route 36 / bolivia / white frost / toxic faces
glaciers of doubts / silverred bloodstream

my heart is beating on 888 beats per minute
battlerapping is a good weapon against depression
been writing against the opponent called myself
it is never about the others but about inner struggle

in long-term rehab, there are many psychologists,
speeding through the aisles of responsibility
around us are deep and darkgreen forests and hills
we are isolated from human civilization to heal

i fear the day of my return into the city of money and sins
the innocence of my two children is tattooed on my body
how could i **** their images by taking my own life?
right now, i am listening to the strings of despair and hope

by the end of the day, each letter will have become dust
a golden lion with a twinkling mane is protecting me
he is a disciple of god and thinks he is just a toy
god's power is greater than every single human act

nothingness was before him and he created nothingness
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