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The love in many ways is tough
He leads the men to gain fight
The women struggle as they tide
By the men who wish to be tide
They follow the love in his order in spite
Of getting free they said day and night
The love leads to the poverty to his followers
If he obeys him, he neglects the useful
He neglects his work and converted to dreamer
The love makes his life more awful
If the one obeys his wants and does illegal
He enters in a circle of fugitive and fearer
Obey your *** and marry your lover
You'll be the happier and your lover is keeper
At your head and get lovers boy and girls in safer
love is important and makes the world good
I have so many thoughts that I can’t fathom,
So many feelings that I can’t put into words,
Bottled emotions that I can’t squeeze onto a page of poetry.

Yet here we are spewing out syllables,
Vomiting words that we don’t even mean,
Mumbling phrases that we don’t even understand,
Just to fill the void that has grown between us,
The space between a pair of parentheses.

Afraid of running out of things to say,
We make up truths and create stories,
And hold them within our brackets of babel.
The big complot


What did I hear? What did I think?

The all wanted to control

The kind land ,she is fame


With and she is ready at all

To be there in her grave

She wanted that without late


As she saw her sons wanted to

Do that without late or hesitate

Who will get over after her?


Who will be like her?

All said "we have no way"

We wanted her to be clear

We wanted her as rays


Of the sun in the summer day

We wanted over all lands

And she opened her hands


To every hunger or chased

She told that's clear

It will come though our way


But you might have way

To achieve your aim in a day

That she would be parted in a way


Made her disappear in a way

No one remind or talk on a day
the land equals mother ,in some nations they dealt is as the something deserved to worship
I don't want to talk
Not to you
Because you seem to think
I will wait

No! Though you ARE my friend
I will not wait.
I'm sorry
I just can't take it.

You're always angry
At me
At others
And It's driving me insane

You boy crazy bean
I was joking, you know
When I said you crushed on everyone
And you got so mad about that one
JOKE.

We aren't a thing I can handle
You're toxic
So, so toxic
I have too many toxic people
You cannot be one of them

You're dramatic.
A perfectionist
(not saying I'm not)
Just that you're overboard
And I just can't take it.

And, yes, I know
I'm not the best friend to have either.
I get that I'm rude
and loud
and ******
But I just can't take it anymore!

But
In the end
Will I say any of this to you?

No.
I'll keep my **** mouth shut.
And I'll wait.
I'll talk.
Ok. Toxic friendships, just something I have on my mind. It probably doesn't matter, but I'm just bubbling it up, and that's not good. So ya.
Spitz Nov 5
I can’t tell you.
Of course I can’t tell you.
There are so many reasons why.
Because it will terrify you,
the hurricane inside my head.
How it obliterates everything,
twisting and turning me around.
I can’t put that on you because
you will feel like you can fix me,
like you want to help,
but you just can’t.
Because I know I don’t deserve you.
Because I can’t let myself
crush you with my heavy soul.
Because you will cut yourself
on the shattered pieces I am in.
Because I’m selfish
and I don’t want to lose you.
Because I hate myself.
I want to tell you,
Oh how I want to tell you.
I want to tell you
like I want a drop of water in the desert.
But I cannot
because no matter how thirsty I get,
I would rather die shielding you
from the scorching sun,
than watch you run away from me.
I cannot tell you
because I am terrified
that you will see me
the way I see myself.
Rose Brown Nov 3
on monday,
this monday,
i was told to shut the **** up
because no one cares.

i know that.
but i care
and sometimes,

its just good to talk.
“I have a question.”
“Why is it that the more connected we are, the less connection we have for each other?”
“I...don’t really know.”
“Maybe....because they value phones and social media more than people?”
“I don’t know”
“Or....maybe they place their identity on them too.”
“I Guess.”
“I don’t really know.”
“What If.....the people in this world don’t actually know the ‘friends’ they are sitting beside in during recess or while hanging out.”
“Maybe....i mean, isn’t hanging out supposed to be about spending time with each other, directly, and not i guess, with their phones, or through their phones...is it?”
“I fear about the future.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, what if my children, or other people’s children...”
“Basically the next generation,”
“Ye, the next generation wont actually know what actual friends are, like being trapped in mechanical boxes with those weird things on...what is it called? Oh right, VR headsets. And then they live in those boxes.”
“I don’t know....”
“I just want people to talk to each other, WITHOUT their heads down on the phone and eyes glued to the screen....like the kampong days...”
“Maybe...”

Maybe......
Hope y’all got something from dis
Lewis Irwin Oct 31
I think I understand it now, life that is,
How easy it is to lose the sense of control in all this.
We're trapped like animals and on a conveyor belt,
Awaiting judgement from a consuming generation, but ****,
I'm guiltily part of that as well.

I think I get how people get lost in the numbness of judgement and consumption,
We're all consumers consuming humour and a humans convulsions.
That repetitive nature of the newest generations has change the world,
No longer do we fight the same fight and stand beside the typical Gerald.
We look to be hurt by others and take a leap of ill-faith into broken people,
Expecting them to catch us when they can't even find love to love themselves; never mind other people.

We hurt ourselves to pause the conveyor belt,
We harm ourselves to draw blood and feel pain and escape our modern ****.
We snap like thin hard wax and damage our perfect bodies,
When we're so powerful; we could revolt and fill the lobbies.

We can make a change, stop the automatic production,
But in a modern world, we're the creators of our own destruction.
This ramble comes from the coping mechanism of hurting yourself to feel in control of your life.
Just something I wished to shed light on and get off my chest.
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