#avis
She's not a poet
She who was lost though sometimes I've found,
whom decisions are caged and bound.
who lives in life full of poison,
who knew how to rhyme a misery,
who was in the midst of emotion to carry.
She's not a poet,
She's just a sad soul
who wants to express
and spill metaphors.
Sep 21, 2020
Sep 21, 2020 at 2:14 PM UTC
Have you seen the downcast faces
fraternized with the loathed ******
Look behind you,
You owned the shadow of facade
That moves between the surface of falsity
with the light of profound verity.
Can you see the similarities
Of the downcast and *****
Or can you recognize yourself,
Together with those words?
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 1:48 PM UTC
Let's get drunk with our glass of tears
As it glimmers in the broken crystals
Let's get hype in the proximity of vultures
As it shimmers together with the predators.
They offered me with glittered drinks,
Like a sequin on my dress,
with their eyes glittering in jealousy.
I got a little tipsy as they urge me to dance.
I danced along with the imperfections
and got preyed by the deceptions,
A victim of a hoax.
I thought I was having fun
but they choked me until the air into my lungs are gone.
They're guilty
but not sorry.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 1:46 PM UTC
I am devoured by the existence of
vintage and old fashioned crafts.
The old scents and faded letters
that will bring back a decade of dates
until I throw myself back in the history.
I savored the aroma of an old book
until I became one of its pages
While the classic cd and mixed tapes
will play a nostalgic feeling.
I am allowing myself
to be allured by the history
with its treasured memories
that will haunt you in your youth.
Years have past
but we are still here,
we are still alive
despite of the countless departures.
Relish the taste of life while it lasts
and while you are still able.
Live, love.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 9:32 AM UTC
I thought I was scribbling metaphors
and my poetry is a waterfall of words
like a continuous flow of blood
when I cut my throat to voice out my thoughts.
But I am wringing my mind,
and removing worthless thoughts
together with my inscribed prose.
And I realized,
I am humming verses,
Instead of writing poems.
Constructing another cliché
for an underrated piece.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC