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FS-30 Mar 2020
There will be storms that we will overcome.
For it is often said, a river will find its way back to an ocean.
will19008 Mar 2020
I write, then
your words appear quickly
almost out of nowhere,
of nowhere that I'm sure,
from no place I'm
certain exists

My handful of shabby
sentences elicit a flood
and your thoughts engulf
me, engage me, suckle
me on hope like a
starving beast

These, our seasons,
always returning to dances
that we know and we do so
unduly well: I will injure
you—without intent—and
you'll withdraw

again,
until next time
GreenWitch Mar 2020
your vague and generic words don't soothe my worry...
it seems like you immediately went to talking to someone as soon as I left the room...
and your only offer of reassurance was your generic, "you're the only woman in my life"...
but I know I don't just have to worry about women with you...
i have to worry about everything.
i feel like you don't care anymore, and I'm not sure where this feeling is coming from.
but it has been growing and there have been no reassurances from you that seem genuine anymore...
Chandy Mar 2020
Am I making a difference?
Just causing trouble
Bury me
Underneath forgotten rubble
Cannot be located with a Hubble
Telescopic
Distant incident
Magnify it
Like we always do
Now it's a threat
To my subconscious
These thoughts
My feelings
Forever chronic.
Gods1son Mar 2020
It just dawned on me that
most of our stress comes
from one doubt or the other –

What if all these plans don't work out?

What if I'm not good or capable
enough to do "this and that"?

What if that person which is
is supposed to do "this or that"
fails to do so?

What if after all my prayers,
God doesn't do "this and that"?

The fear of uncertainties
stresses us the most.


But isn't that what faith is supposed
to address?


What if my faith doesn't work?

Ultimately, it all boils down to trust.

How much can we trust God knowing
that all these things are all within His
control – ourselves, our plans, others
and the others things that we are uncertain
of are subject to Him.
Brian Yule Mar 2020
Change is
An empty atlas
All steps
Shall fall on ****** earth
Chasing silhouettes
Urgent births
Future regrets
As yet unscripted epithets
The bold walk blind
A river unfolding
Toward the see
A tale told
In the edit
Emily Mitchell Feb 2020
Stepping out into the world...
How will I express myself?
Am I really strong enough?
No turning back now,  just walk on.
My past behind,  my life ahead.
The pages of destiny, yet to be read.

Courage! Courage!
Now be brave.
Will I fail?  Will I succeed?
Will I follow? Will I lead?
All this and more I ask myself
As I prepare to leave my shelf.

I will not cry!  I will not cry!
There is no try, just do or die.
I'll give my all with no complaints,
With no regrets and no restraints.
Now must I spread my wings and fly...
🕊This is a poem that I wrote in high school for senior night... unfortunately I don't remember what actually happened,  but I think I remember that my poem was chosen,  but they wanted me to change some things about the last bit (I don't think they liked the "do or die" bit X'D)... and they wanted me to read it... I thiiink I declined... because I didn't want to change it and I am pretty sure that I was WAAAAY TO SHY to read a poem that I wrote in front of my whole graduating class... it was enough of an honor for me that they would have picked it... even with conditions...😅... but... I might have read it and blocked the memory... but... I don't think I did... it has been basically 20 years since then.. so my memory is pretty fuzzy...hahaha... after being "re-shelved" a couple of times... the thrill of leaping loses its edge... but I still remember the uncertainty of that first time... now I am pretty happy to rest the ol' wings and perch for a while...🐦👍
This was written in 2001
Keith Strand Feb 2020
Who am I
But a piece of you?

In fields of rye
Lies become true.

A skinwalker
I stalk the night

I silently saunter
Between wrong and right

Your face is mine
For I miss my own

Straight down the line
Pain is sown
Skinwalkers are Native American folklore, they steal the skin of animals (including humans) and lure other creatures in so they may **** and steal more skins.

KK

X
N Chairannisa Feb 2020
I reside at the In-Between,
Just like the hyphen
joining those two words,
A silent flatline
in the midst of two worlds.

Nobody chooses In-Between,
Its vague monotony
is too loud to bear,
Each passing minute
confusing and yet, bare.

The frustration of In-Between
is knowing I’m the bridge
connecting them as one,
and longing to be both
but belonging to none.
Chandy Feb 2020
Chose a path
.
.
.
How do I know it's the right one?
.
.
.
Is there a correct path?
.
.
.
Never learned how to do this stuff...
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