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Tin 1d
All this time,
Been looking,
What is it to me?
I don't want yet for it to come,
Was never ready
For true love comes unexpectedly
All unexpected things,
May come slow or as fast as you don't think
Will be that time,
Right timing?
Or that timing,
Somehow,
Wrong timing?
I'm scared,
That I might lose something in the future,
Both important

When true love comes,
What would I chose?
If true love waits,
Will it be still a right time then?
For sure, waiting kills time
What's left may left as that
Will I be ready for that?
How will I know after choosing,
If it's all or nothing?
Love or lies?
Heart or mind?
I guess, to choose is to cost is to lost
One over another,
When the boat sinks,
Will it be better to save myself from drowning?
Or let myself be drowned with him, together?
Which life is worthy?
A life of a brave soul eaten by loneliness,
Or a life where loneliness were eaten by brave souls?
I don't remember when was the first time I started wondering what true love is for me. I've came up with this unsolid opinion and unsure feeling. Don't get me wrong, I'm not yet there. That's why I can't tell, even this piece won't tell. But somehow, I feel like this is a guide for me.
She is a lost soul.

She wonders, yet she still could not fathom the urge to be made whole again. And then she wanders, a soul thirsty for new beginnings.

She was looking down at the big city—they were so alive, heavy breathing's can be heard around; footsteps were rushing—smiles plastered on their faces, yet they were so alone.

They were made out of different stories—but there is only one thing they must find and feel, to be found and be whole. Besides, they were not so different—if she is a lost soul, what can hinder her to find her one true love?

And then there's him—he was made out of soft pillows, he was an another poem she's excited to read. He was an ink—giving another color to a blank page; he was a story she will never get tired of: to read.

She was so eager to see him every time. To feel him—to look at his heart; yet he was an almost to its completion—and then there's her, so broken—humiliated, hurt and blinded.

There's no space left for her. And then she wandered again. She tried so hard to forget him—she thought he was the one who will complete everything that is lost and broken; yet she was left with no other choice: to be a wandering soul, again.

Maybe she was made exactly like that—no other form of strings will tie the knot, other than herself.
Oh to learn how to love you.
tmartin 5d
like a cat
i’m waiting for my owner
in my case, more gropes.
i am vain
i regularly conjure up poetry on my skin
do not give me yours.
i will recite every word to my last paper breath
so i can kid myself that paper is power.
my hands, are a canvas
canvas for anyone's ***** thoughts and ***** details
for if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
i will learn the complex trick
at trick of gaining depth.
and maybe the world will look as full.
as full and real as i
attest about it
read about it
dream about it
vision about it in books,
or dance with in music,
and maybe perhaps my edges will stop being ripped;
or my corners cut
or maybe my pages will not be burned and tossed aside.
true;
sometimes, i am this tiny
sometimes, i am this entangled
sometimes, i am this bonded
vulnerable, and judged by many
but also sometimes i am full of wonder

but right now, i am this.


|  i am paper and no wonder i like words |
Excerpts from [Desperate Acts by tma_rtin]
Malina 5d
i wonder what version of me lives in your mind
tell me what i look like through your eyes
Color 7d
every day
as i go through the motions
i wonder

is this all there is?
Avery Aguilar May 22
have you ever looked up and wondered
what's above?
not the sky, nor the stars,
nor even the outer layers we've yet to explore

no science involved
unless it is being backed up by religion

have you ever looked up and wondered
how God does it all?
or how Jesus always has on a smile
even when he knows it's a thin, thin line
between life and death...

an empty cup that is never to be filled up completely
one forced into the hands and into working for everyone else

The golden pieces of hope
pushing one so far, as to the ends of the earth;
just to fall off.
Nina May 21
Why wasn't i good enough for anyone?
I did my best
I tried my best
But it wasn't enough to make him stay

Which of my flaws was the trigger?

Was it because I'm not pretty enough?
Because of my weird high-pitched voice?
My short height?
My scars and cellulites?
Could it be my tattoos were too scary for him

Maybe it wasn't a physical flaw.

Was it because of my obsession of him?
My undying love and affections ?
Perhaps because i overthink too much
Or maybe because of how depressed i could be

Maybe everything about me is flawed.
Maybe in his eyes,
I'm not worthy enough
Gi May 20
I never really understood it at all
Until I was ready to take that fall

It creeps up on you, you know
Every other night
It’s a new low

These thoughts get louder
Every other hour
But in the morning they are silenced

Internalize everything they’re just self centered thoughts.
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