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press to distress
express disdain
say if may
dis is in vain

but there's rain in my veins
and through the pain
is where we gain
the whys and the eyes
for I's and the lies

I guess I got caught in the rot
but hey why not
leave like a leaf
live and relieve
weave and retrieve
humus is us and whatnot
16 July 2021
Ainnoot Nov 2019
I miss,
sitting on top of the world and being understood.
I miss,
the gaze into my eyes, so I could focus on yours.
I miss,
the days love songs would resonate a bit more.
I miss,
our dope conversations and the breaks I‘d take just to get my fix,
but now my walks home are quiet
and my playlist just doesn’t sound the same.
Colten Sorrells Jan 2019
I feel the urge,
I feel the ache,
I feel my stomach
start to quake

must find my throne
exalted seat
a place where I
can find release

I wonder what
it's all about
as lines and verse
just slides right out

and when it comes
the proper time,
I raise my seat,
observe my rhymes

I can't resist
the urge to look
at what came out
at what I cooked

and when I'm done,
I pull the ****
and send it down
to all you slobs

to make you gag,
to make you think
besides, I'm proud
of how it stinks
PJ Poesy Jan 2016
I've tucked my dreams away in a time capsule. For certain, they will be better use to someone in the future. Though in all likelihood, they may never be found, for I have told no one where they have been buried and shan't offer a clue. In the capsule, far under the darkness of dirt, should one happen upon it, they will find obscure memories along with those dreams. Just tokens they are, recapturing happy times, made of clay and paint, spell ridden for a future discoverer.  These knick-knacks are sure to have power, as no intention I have ever had has been greater than what was formed in those whatnots. You've seen bric-a-brac shelved, gather dust, and finally find themselves wrapped in tissue paper, inside a shoebox stowed in an attic and forgotten. Then one day they are rediscovered by another generation, who is charmed by their quaintness. They are dusted off and put on a shelf again, until sadness bearing that memory requires them to be sold at some yard sale or donated to a thrift store. I can not see this for my whatnots. To me they are too precious to leave in the hands of those close to me now. I won't have them sobbed over. That is the reason they have been buried. And should a certain someone find them in the course of time, may they only know their dreams fulfilled, by a time capsule that stewed long enough to design newer wonder of whatnot.
Please don't go looking for my whatnot. It has been planted for a certain someone. That person is yet to be known.
JES Nov 2014
life is all about perspective
what have I done?
maintain my sanity.
worn out, burnout
worry about
so different.
I am a daughter
I adjust as needed

— The End —