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Ankush 16h
Why does every other poem is about love ?
Why it has to be a shared experience ?

Why every other poet try to make it unique
Some of them, connect it to moon,
Some call themselves a Freak?
Why is it so different for everyone else?
For some it's an admire,
For some it's the beauty
Some feel connected
Some mark it as duty ,
Some see oceans in eyes
Others feel ocean while staring
And for some is the comfort
And others it's the safety
Some say it is compatibility
Others say it comes naturally
Or they feel it altogether
Or say they feel ever lively ?

(Like they are loving
Like no one loved
More than romeo
More than anyone )

sometimes
They show they don't need
the validation -
What the world feels
Even their love is a simple
Expression.

Why love is loved by everyone?

For Someone who is lost
In the love of anyone.

And still I wonder - why every poem is about love ?
Not every - but ones that really are !
Nev Apr 8
Love.
They say you will find it,
Hopefully, you will feel it,
Learn to need it
and finally feel alive.

Well, that's a lie.
Love will leave you broken.
Grabbing at your chest
trying to rip your heart open.

All you feel is pain.
Fire running through your veins.
Yet, you still want more.

Feeling scared.
Overwhelmed with all these feelings.
Nothing is right.
Put up that wall.
Start to fight.

Breaking and crumbling,
the walls coming down.
Starting to panic
trying to cry out;
can't make a sound

Feeling alone and unwanted.
Understanding what went wrong.
Nothing is your fault...or is it all?
You start to fall.

It's all your fault.
Have to make it right.
You try and try
but they still pass you by.

Head is aching,
body shaking.
Going to explode.
Might overflow.

Numb.
Feelings start to disappear.
You're fine.
You're okay.
Why did you care anyway?

Get up.
Head held high.
You don't need love,
not worth your time.

So much pain.
So much blood.
Too many tears,
all wasted on love.

You are enough.
All you need is me.
No more blood
pain and tears.

I searched for light in everyone else
Lost who I was, dimmed myself.
I cried, I bent, I paid the cost
I am enough- I always was.
For the ones who broke but never stopped rebuilding.
Healing isn't always pretty, but it's always worth it.

— The End —