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Tea Jan 2020
25:
My heart is sore...
I can't anymore...
Another painful hit...
Another dark pit...
But someone still has my trust...
He knows how to heal my heart's crust...
Time will pass by...
And both my heart and eyes will cry...
I'm tired of being pushed around...
Now I'm thrown to the ground...
I'm feeling very low...
Luckily, I'm free now...
I know that someone will help me out...
I don't even need to shout...
He is now the One I'm living for...
Only He has all the keys to every door...
I still love Gabriel...
But somehow I feel like he has said farewell...
He hasn't turned his back on me...
But he won't see...
Blind are his eyes...
And I don't believe in lies...
I wish I could do something for Gabriel...
But I'm stuck inside the loneliness cell...
The familiar walls become more clear...
But I have nothing to fear...
Even though I'm holding back tears...
I know I'm gonna change in the following months and years...
Gabriel will change too...
I wonder what should I do...
My future looks musical...
But I can always fall...
I fell so many times...
Too many to say in my rhymes...
monique ezeh Jan 2020
I think I think too much.

In my head, there are links
Between the things that I think  
That shouldn’t quite touch.

I’m drifting through time and space,
Erratically bouncing surface to surface  
In search of a purpose for the cacophony inside my head.

I wonder if it needs to make sense
or if I should just
Accept the immense presence of all this nonsense.
Lacey Clark Feb 2020
cold, blue skies
crisp air
and sun in my eyes
breathing deeply amongst the crowd
I feel like an installation
in a hotel lobby
or a decorative vase
with dry arrangements

empty yet amused eyes
peer beyond me
while I’m duct-taped to this pedestal
nailed into a wall
the frame of a painting
sitting in a display case.
stop ******* looking at me! (unless you mean it)
Lacey Clark Jan 2020
It's like finding a necklace in the dryer,
all knotted and twisted.
I keep trying to straighten it out,
writing about the same old stuff.

Maybe I'm not really fixing anything,
just fiddling with the knots.
Moving them around,
maybe I'm making progress.

Maybe it's better to laugh,
Set the dang-knotted things aside,
and to have a lighthearted dialogue
with your shadows.
There’s a universal substance
And it’s moldable and smart
But it needs to have a pattern
For the shaping power to start

Yes, it needs to have a template
A kind of outline or design
For this thinking stuff to cling to
And build your world and mine

I’m glad the pattern I provide
By the thinking of my mind
Is the template that is needed
For my world to be designed
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Kora Sani Jan 2020
red
you’re trailing behind me
like the past, it’s haunting me
unbeknownst to me
i was being watched
separated by two feet;
space and your resistance
that’s what’s keeping you from me
but you know where I go
when i need a clear head
giving into the resistance
you show up in red;
red so i can see you
no matter how far i go
some kind of game you play
so you don’t lose hope
this may all just be a delusion
that’s how it usually goes
maybe i’m the crazy one
but who really knows?
Maria Etre Jan 2020
IES
I used to write daily
now I write dailies
Daniel Magner Jan 2020
I sit up tonight and ponder creation,
its limitless possibilities rendering me
incapable of the act.
Like being *****,
think too much and it's gone.

At least this chilled whiskey
might warm me,
give muddled clarity
that will dissipate
before I awake the next day.

I feel that tug,
that green grin trying to charm,
and oh, it's workin'.
The seduction can't be denied,
it's implied over, over
till it's almost too much.

Suddenly I think of population's
scary multiplication,
forever piling more humans,
more, more, more, more, more
to a gasping planet.

The ice melts in my glass,
condensation gathering to the ridged sides,
even this small pour brings a grimace.
I'm scared of a clear mind,
what it will show me.
The desperate cry from capitalism's throat?
My plight, my strife, my struggle,
to obtain balance at a nation's fall.
The sheer worthlessness encompassing
anything it once stood for.

I teeter here, sips become more water,
precious water,
already commodified
Daniel Magner 2020
Daniel Magner Jan 2020
Suddenly life seems long,
stretched out.
Scenes I'd forgotten
display on an internal screen.
Could these memories be mine?
Do they belong to another me?
They're intangible.
How can it be that I was that person
and ended up me?

People I haven't thought about in a millennia,
now dance across my vision
telling me their secrets, heartache and happiness.
Could I be so cruel
to dismiss their life in my actions, my passions,
to dismiss that they've produced the man
I see in the mirror
Daniel Magner 2020
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