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Isaac Aug 2018
heart trumps mind
so find it
don't leave it behind
feed it
look after it
for it overflows into
everything you do
most hearts
trampled under life
squashed in the dirt
left to rot
when it could have bloomed
when it could have laughed
and oozed with love
but you didn't love it
you told it
you had to make a living
and grow up
but little did you know
you were dead anyway
you left your heart behind
a long time ago
you've been living
but no life
go back
pick that hunk of flesh off the road
nurture that precious thing
put some life back into it
ask it questions
show that it matters
when you get your heart back
you will realise
nothing else mattered
you will realise
you were born to live
your heart is actually beautiful
really beautiful.
Written 7 August 2018
PrttyBrd Feb 2018
elephants stomping on my head
laugh as they draw blood
fragmented ideals scatter in the wind
as trampled dreams mix with dust

cemented in 'supposed to'
hiding behind other people's 'shoulds'
jackhammer disappointment
crushes bones with broken boundaries

play me a song
to make it look pretty
and I'll pretend to dance
with you in foggy yesterday's

karaoke soundtracks
to a stranger's tears
that leave the heart blind
tripping acid just to see in forgotten colors

breathing bacteria
from the soles of shoes
wiped on my forehead
as they said, 'hello'

a mosaic of skull puzzles
grouted in the remnants of the ****
left behind as everyone
just walks away

shadows smell clean in dark corners
where colors are left to die
in clouds of expectation
leaving truth buried in the ruble

...of who they thought I was
Isha Kumar Oct 2014
It's like screaming
and wailing so loud.
Then, it's like being trampled
by the oncoming crowd.

It's like feeling
you're better than them all.
Then, you start shrinking
and become so small.

It is like wading
into safe, shallow waters.
Then, it's like drowning
and your breath begins to falter.

It is like wanting
to have all you need.
Then, it's like understanding
what you felt was greed.

It is like transforming,
becoming strong and invincible.
Then, it's like being scared
of turning weak and invisible.

It is like questioning,
asking them all, 'why?'.
Then, it's like realising
in the end, all must die.

The things we know.
The emotions we feel.
Yes, they wound us.
But, in time, they all heal.

— The End —