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Spriha Kant Apr 12
Withering by the prolonged waiting for someone is strangulation of euphoric flavor.

© Spriha Kant
Bongani G-kay Feb 18

Opt...2 roads i have a choice...

Can i raise my voice....
My conciouness...

Should i trust him cause am him...

That's another route....
With different signs...
I need yahh...

As i lose myself.....
In the mist darkness....
Can you hear my words...

These words teach yah....
Cause they are the world..

I ain't a preacher...
But am the last prophet...
I have been here.


My soul...dry...
Drought change season position...
Like pieces of a draft....

I doubt...the pen in my veins...
It carries alot of secrets pains...
Its the 14 day..
Observing the periods....

******* cycle repeat...
Is this my defeat...
I wither...
Lose all i had dehydrated...
Probably my soul in stilled in society and social media hatred...

Comment... that's my last moment....
Sweat and tears...
My own body
Wither...from decision taken either

Aka...🕊️-son of lee-dia-🕊️
Either or wither...2topics as a single poem
A little rain then
Sun, save us a seat for two.
In time, I know that
Our flowerbeds may wither,
But I will still dance with you.
Average Dreamer Sep 2020
I cannot grip
with my decaying hands

i wither away
Sarah Strack Sep 2020
You didn't have to salt my fields
after the war
The devastation had been wrought
cowardly crops
Turn away from the bright sunlight
dying slowly
reflecting on those bitter wars of self
Paul Idiaghe Aug 2020
submerged in a cascade of
cacophony, my pieces wade
like fish, into semptember's silvery net
so its plundering pull would heave them
                                                          ­       out
from their misery, grant them purpose
in the mouths of fortunes, that gobble them
as delicacies;  they wither, till my egg-fragile
unravels itself, savors the warmth
of the virgo sun, and hatches
immaculately, into me.
Lofty unspoken Dreams

     tear at the tattered seams

          it seems we were meant to be unraveled

     to be undone
          & burn with the sun

               to be at peace with chaos

          or else

               wither away

                    under the crushing weight of mortality.
dichotomous Jun 2020
my hair
is stuck down in the drain
wetting my dress
and drying my veins

my skull
it grew in too late
making me spin
in a hellscape of hate

nothing's the same
and everything's great

my hands
are shedding their nails
waving goodbye
to blood on the trails

my legs
cannot hold their weight
my bones look the same
as the ones on my plate

nothings's the same
and everything's great

my chest
it knocks and it shakes
pinning me down
how low can it take

my corpse
should rot in a case
inside of the flesh
where I used to be safe

nothings the same
i'm going to faint
Myka Apr 2020
and so each petal fell
one by one
until none was left

why do flowers bloom
only to wither
in the end?
I've read somewhere sometime ago that 20 is the age you start losing friends and I'm scared. I don't have many to lose.
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