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there was a lot of love
in this decade
the people joined
a peace parade

the air was filled
with an upbeat atmosphere  
the flower children
were on a higher sphere

tunes started to sound
like they'd been set free
the musicians weren't
bound by a formalized key

fashion underwent
a considerable change
whereupon the beaded
look wasn't so strange

may these scant clues
aid all of you
in finding what decade
I'm taking you to
Love is a song
It has many twist and turns
And has many different genres
True loves a song that has no wrong

Whether slow or fast
Whether upbeat or classic
Love played before and still plays
And loves a song that's easy to grasp
Just something that popped into my head
rozina Nov 2018
Nothing to see, nothing to do,
nothing to look forward to.

Observing others living life to their fullest,
and feeling as though you're the dullest.
The things you used to enjoy
slowly become a distant memory,
and you don't know how.

Existing slowly begins to feel a chore.

Wake up, go to work, stare at a screen,
go home, stare at yet another screen,
sleep, repeat.

Everything slowly begins to lose its
colour, as the world as you see it
slowly turns to shades of grey and
muted tones.

You don't feel yourself anymore,
the things you used to love become a chore,
to do them with love and passion again
suddenly feels like folklore,
where in the days of yore,
they didn't seem to be a chore.
Now they do,
and you don't know how to
make them not feel like they're a chore.
You slowly begin to lack emotion and
begin to wonder
if there even is any point in doing
anything anymore.

Contemplating the reasons for existence
becomes your most favourite past time.

Slowly, but surely, the pieces come
together, like coincidences, and the
realisation hits.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time, though for most, this isn't
always the case.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time and being ignored,
so you speak up even if you're shy,
not wanting to cry,
of living a life so dull and dry.

You slowly incline your head,
trying to resist the temptation of going to bed,
wishing you were dead.

You doodle during that extremely
boring meeting,
not caring if anyone bothers to judge
those silly little doodles.
You do them again,
out of habit,
slowly gaining your mojo and lust for life
back.

The upbeat songs come back,
so do the memories.

You embrace those,
and you don't let any old grump stop you,
because they should embrace them too.

Emotion is injected back into you again,
you tap your pen in quick succession,
to keep up with the rhythm of the song.

You gain a sense of flow,
you gradually begin to know that things
will turn out okay again.

Not immediately, but sooner or later.
You're no longer a dull hater,
life has just gotten one inch greater.

You don't think about heading to bed,
wishing you were dead,
because life seemed a dread.

You incline your head,
and observe your surroundings with
fresh eyes,
not uncontrollable silent cries!

You get the swing of things again.

The things you used to love are no longer
a chore,
the days of yore
where all that was just folklore,
was actually just folklore;
it's no longer a chore.

The emptiness is replaced with emotion,
the absurd sense of humour creeps back in.

Boom, you're your normal self again,
although you don't know what normal
actually is.
You no longer have a care in the world
about this normal that they all speak of.
For feeling empty
can just make you be another
faceless citizen,
blending in
with the rest.

You don't want that, do you?

You aspire to be the best,
with the feeling of being blessed,
and turning up in your best dressed,
without feeling the judgement at its best,
the anxiety goes to rest,
and you're at your best.

You skip happily,
while others walk with a blank expression.
You're the injection of colour
into the grey and glum world.
Others scorn at you for being different,
you happily embrace the fact
that you're that way.

Instead of wishing you were in bed,
thinking you'd rather be dead,
because life seems a dread,
you're ahead,
using your own head
whilst others are unknowingly spoon fed.

You're no longer a miserable person,
but one who stands out,
beaming,
others internally screaming,
hoping to convince others to do the same,
whilst trying to stay relatively sane
to avoid unwanted fame,
or worse, fearing the cane,
whilst also trying to stay in your lane
to avoid the blame
over something pretty lame,
like setting your old rickety computer up in flames,
because you felt like it
and didn't care one little bit.
It's not the shortest poem in the world, so brace yourself.
polka Jan 2018
Well, well.
What am I experiencing here?
A growth in my personality,
Or am I reflecting my peers?

As a shy small bug,
I felt as if my mouth made no sound.
But recently, that's not the case.
It feels as if my life has turned around!

Because, I am no longer afraid of what I have to say.
I am no longer afraid of what's inside!
Because that fear has grown exponentially,
To become something outside of my own mind.

I am no longer afraid of myself.
No, I am afraid of you!
I am afraid of what could happen, yes!
I am afraid of what you'll make me do.

I am afraid of the dark,
Yet I simply won't sleep with light.
I am afraid of these monsters,
But if I live without them, I might die.
I am afraid of endless possibilities,
A burglary happens every fifteen seconds!
I am afraid of what you'll say to me,
If I tell you I am not perfect.

But, ha,
You already knew that, didn't you?
Silly me.
What am I afraid of?
Poetic T Mar 2017
Randomness is a rhyme of loves vibration.
A singular beat is monotonous,
Stagnation of verses that repeat becoming
bad tempos.

Loves an unpredictable rhyme that changes
upon occasions, keeping the tempo swaying
like the randomness of a hearts echoed beat.
Dr Strange Jul 2016
I don't have the answers
If I did I wouldn't be in this situation
Sitting here with a blank sheet of paper before me
Looking at the moon wishing it could speak
So bad I wanted to impress you
But at this point I'd be impress if you even noticed
I mean look at you
You're like goddess
One who was put here just to make everyone jealous
You're so perfect
That smile
Them eyes
Even the way you sneeze has a certain cuteness to it
I know this is sounding kind of corny
So I guess it's a good that this is just me thinking to myself
Though for the records my thoughts speak the truth
You're just beautiful in everything you do
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