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Mariah Apr 18
We are people.
Not machines.
We are meant to be appreciated-
and not as merely
property.
Mariah Apr 15
"All this really is so silly.
You don't need to cry,
you're a big girl"

When really all Im hearing
Is how you think I should deal
With the world
You can't tell it's persevering
It's how I choose to heal
From the chaos its unfurled

As if it's only suffering
You've only known one part
You cannot see the peace it brings
It humbles my bleeding heart

The sun will start to reach me soon
Every time I go outside
It's radiation turns me into
Someone new and I
Will wonder why
I stayed inside my room

But just like you can't feel the warmth
If you have never felt the cold
You cannot learn to love yourself
If you choose not to see the old

The habits, the regret
The sadness, the unrest
It walks hand in hand with the
Moments at their best

The laughter, the worth
The rotting beauty of the earth
It's alive and then it dies
It cycles with intent  
It doesn't bother with goodbyes
Just like the night and sky
It knows what it's death will represent

I can't ride through that meadow
Without coming out with pedals on my bike
Just like I'm never clean
I'm covered in the residue of my life

And even though I cry
It's meaning is never lost on me
It's about how hard I try
To face the worst and still believe
There will be another time
I know what all the struggle means
It isn't just a knife  

The sun will shine
The rain will pour
I will certainly cry once more
In a life that's truly mine

It's not about defeat
It's not about demise
It's not about trying to compete
It's all about surprise
The shock and awe
To find yourself alive

After all we've suffered
After all we bled
To hope we can recover
That this is not the end

If one day
You finally understand 
Who I was and who I am
You might know why I would cry
And possibly join in next time

On that day is hope
That you can call and tell me
If it is really all that silly
How I choose to cope

It isn't black and white to me
Can't you see
That I believe
Life is a kaleidoscope
Reds and greens of suffering
Blue tones of hope
Coloide inside
A cinemascope

The light that shines
Can be so bright
It blinds sometimes
And all I can do is cry
The suffering is the best part. It helps me see the worth.
maria Apr 12
I remember the time in summer camp
when we could either go swimming or paint.
Despite how much I loved to paint,
I followed my crush to the pool,
thinking my bared skin might catch his attention.
I watched as he jumped in the water,
played football, and wrestled with his friend.
He had made no compromise,
didn't change his plans because I was there.
I remember coming back to the cabin
where my friends stood with their acrylics.
Where along the line did I learn
to abandon myself for merely the possibility
of male attention, approval, appreciation?
How early was it cemented in my brain
that I am just an object to be admired
and should try at every given moment
to put myself in someone's line of view?
When did it first happen,
and how long will it take me to deconstruct,
to decentralize this gnawing belief
that I am nothing if I'm not perceived?
Let me make one thing clear today,
Like the lion’s roar at the break of day.
If my worth you fail to see,
then like the wind, you drift from me.
Loyalty is strong, like ancient stone,
and those who stray must walk alone.

People come and people go,
like rivers where the wild reeds grow.
But if you stand, then stand with pride,
like mighty baobabs side by side.
Respect is not a gift, but earned,
like coal from the wood when burned.

I do not chase, I do not plead,
my heart is not a thing of need.
If you walk, then go your way,
no words will beg for you to stay.
The ones who matter, firm remain,
like endless stars in the night’s domain.

A stranger you will be to me,
like lost footprints washed to sea.
Deceit is but a fleeting shade,
exposed beneath the sun’s cruel blade.
Respect is deep, like mountain roots,
and falsehood bears no lasting fruits.

I do not play the games of those,
who shift like winds where no one knows.
I stand with those whose hearts are true,
whose souls shine bright like morning dew.
Like warriors bound by blood and trust,
I walk with strength, I rise from dust.

So if you’re here, then stand with grace,
this path we walk is not a race.
It’s not a right to walk beside,
but earned with truth and worn with pride.
I give my love to those who see,
that worth is built on loyalty.
Jose H Apr 4
You’re no toy
to be played with
You’re no tool
To be used
You’re of value
The prize to be cherished
The woman to be love
Know your worth
Know you’re deserving
Not only of love, but of trust
Stay with me, leave me
Either choice please remember
Remember the love I’ve given
Remember the manner I cherish
Remember so that all other to come
Love as I loved
Cherished as I’ve cherished
Know this or more is your worth
Arii Apr 3
Worth anything?
It’s killing me
Worth anything?
No, that can’t be.

My failures and mistakes
make up who I am.
So when you tell me that it’s okay
What am I supposed to say to that?
Arii Mar 30
Tick, tock.
Ticking down.
I won’t live much
Longer, now.

T i c k ,   t o c k .
Ticking down.
My time is flying past,
And I’m too tired to chase after it.

Will it be okay
when I’m gone?
When I disappear
and don’t return?

T   i   c   k   ,     t   o   c   k   .
I sure hope
I don’t amount
to anything more

Than I am.
Sanama Mar 21
A pen that’s bled a thousand lines,
yet pages crumble, left behind.
Each thought I shape, each verse I weave,
feels lost before another’s eye can truly see.

Write, they say—write and bleed,
let the ink meet every need.
But what if lines just fall apart?
What if they never reach a heart?

Doubt is heavy, it presses deep,
like restless waves of ink that never cease.
Yet still, I carve, though lost in night,
a whispered truth, a fleeting light.

And maybe no one sees or knows,
no echoes where the silence grows—
but if one soul should pause and stay,
"Then all this weight was worth the fray."
Everyone writes. Ideas that take shape, yet doubt lingers, and words crumble before they ever truly see the light.
Gideon Mar 8
Where does art come from?
It comes from pain for some.
Others find it in joy or glee.
Some are struck by creativity.
Regardless of its origins,
Art is where humanity begins.
Drawing, writing, even dance.
Any art form is romance,
With the universe and the world.
A timeless tango forever twirled.
It’s the greatest story ever told.
Art is worth more than gold.
itsmekacey Mar 2
i need to be the best
so why do people always say
know you are valuable and don't compare yourself to others
it's a no-brainer that you should
put people down to bring yourself up
it's horrible to think you can
just look on the bright side, and enjoy yourself


(now read bottom up<3)
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