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Is it truly a prison if I'm the one trapping myself?
It is if you throw the key across the floor,
just out of reach.
I had a thought. So I turned it into a poem. Enjoy.
3 years ago,
In the city of chaos
when i was alone.
Trapped with lies,
in the cage of life.
Living so low,
Always find ways to get high.
So young of me,
With smaller the vision,
Just believed in fairies,
And prince of paradise.
There was cold in summers,
And autumn in spring.
Night so black,
Hiding all the shine of bright life.
I left the city of chaos,
With the chaos still within.
This was my experience of first time living in hostel during graduation. That journey was full of lessons ,very hard and challenging one. Not only i grow and become adult there but learnt about the strength hiding within.
Suffocating, drowning,
Adrift in the maze of my mind,
Each twist and turn taking me deeper into the darkness.
Lost. Stuck.
Twisting, sinking weight in my chest.
Falling
        Down,
               Down,
No escape.
Sickness. Disgust.
Thoughts running rampant,
    Don't know what to do.
Trapped in the maze of my mind.
There was a girl
Who was stuck in her bubble
People could see in
but she could not see out.

She placed her hands
on the pearly edges of the bubble
Calling for someone to pop it
Calling for someone to let her loose

Yet nobody heard her
and the girl was trapped
In her bubble
forever

There was a girl
Who was stuck in her bubble
She called for help
But nobody heard her.
I sit in front of the tv
Brainwashed into thinking
That this monotonous existence
Constitutes living
I feel my mind screaming
For something more engaging
Instead of the useless stuff
Seeping from my screen
Sometimes the only breaks I take
Are just me looking from that screen
To another smaller version in my hand
I feel exhausted emotionally
Unable to engage in many things
But I refuse to give these screens
This kind of power over me
I am a human being
Not a lifeless creature
I need to find something better
To break this habit that's killing my creativity
It's killing my energy
My motivation
My attention span
And I will not have it
Not anymore
I will find something more satisfying
More promising in engagement

And then I wonder
Is this what it was like
When books were first written?
Or is this unique to electronic media?
Im so tired
Drag
tired
Stressed
Mentally unstable
Confused
lost
Trapped
Scared
Depressed
Happyyyyy
Empty
Sane ish

Bleh
This is meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Schools driving me crazy ish
Amanda 4d
Wish I could do something right
So words would ring true
Wish I met high expectations
Maybe then I could lose a few

I wish I was not weighted with
Weakness well within my core
If only I was put together differently
Strength would emit from every pore

I create my shortcomings
How am I sabotaging my own goal?
Not trying in the first place
Allowing fear to take control

My heart bleeds in anticipation
Before cuts have a chance to appear
Live my life in apprehension
Assuming danger to always be near

My motionless state of insecurity
Realm of dysfunctional doubt
I forever am encapsulated in time
My skull is a jail and I cannot get out
Not so proud of this one but eh.. here it is anyway

Written 8/25/18
You stare at your own work until you hate it,
Sit for so long you forget why you waited
Hold your tongue instead of speaking your mind
Longing to move forward, but remaining behind.
Kada 4d
Her beauty made him look but his **** got him hooked.
                      
                                                                                             -Kada
There's a fine line between infatuation and love.
The cold usurped the trees
I watch their children fall
filling up the wet street
winter forestalled with a cask
                                             of alcohol

watch as the tip of his tongue
touches the roof of his mouth
whips down and spouts out
the reasons why we have
                                         this drought

but its raining now
maybe something will grow
or a sea of spit
with rolling waves
                              will overflow

I told her I would try
to rekindle with him
stuck in cabin's twilight
sewing sinews of this
                         phantom limb

how does one talk
before they think
does he hear the words
that dribble into his
                               warm drink

then ascends as steam
back into that cavernous nose
to permeate his brain
and slowly seeps into
                             tattered clothes

this "vacation" will be over
but not soon enough
a couple more days
all I have to do is
                         avoid fisticuffs

no promises.
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