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#cracks
The walls inside my head Have cracked like the walls behind my bed I don’t know how or when But sometime between now and then There was a slit And then the plaster split And through the cracks spilled New thoughts as the world stilled And I began to realize There are so many lies Within this society And still it’s worshiped with aggressive piety The cracks become chasms As the thoughts rearrange the atoms Of this life Full of pain and strife But once the flood subsides Every thought hides And I look at my wall And see nothing at
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4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 8:00 PM UTC
The Walls Have Cracked
she asks me: Please! do not be sad please is one of the most powerful words ever! in history! and in a young woman’s tender pleading, lies the hardest~ever~to refuse, impossible to defuse, days later I am angel-wrestling how to explain being sad in your~yore olden days is a vastly different kind of sad, that makes u look back days and decades, even eons begone, and wet eye wiper fingers get in the way of mistyped writing but what I am emoting is a longer-than-long slow drip black acid disguised disqualified as coffee, trying to infuse character cracks long ago putty covered, but putty get olds, dry out, new surficial cracks appear and it ain’t easy to cover over some cracks a second, third or fourth time after time you are young; I am older than many, most; my cracks are not veins but full blown occluded memorized arteries and my heart works now on just three engines refurbished but still revving, and when sadness burst inside, despite prior experience vast, it cannot be washed away with a wet washcloth, a mother’s hug, those aspirins of human life, and memories complicate old~sad, comparisons made to sadness of loss from prior pasts, and it is easier and hard~different to so easy remove, cause think~thoughts pass by not again, old familiar pains, a /bad kind of resurrection, revivificcation, not again, and /with a shortened future ahead you refamilarize oneself with ’alone,’ and much larger questions thread swinging over my heart and head, so your please is request is fulfilled, this poem expiates away much, but know I’m running low on putty. natty p.s.is late on your subcontinent, so sleep and read it on the morrow, a fresh face day to be shared…❤️
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Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 11:26 PM UTC
Please. is one of the most powerful words.
she asks me: Please! do not be sad please is one of the most powerful words ever! in history! and in a young woman’s tender pleading, lies the hardest~ever~to refuse, impossible to defuse, days later I am angel-wrestling how to explain being sad in your~yore olden days is a vastly different kind of sad, that makes u look back days and decades, even eons begone, and wet eye wiper fingers get in the way of mistyped writing but what I am emoting is a longer-than-long slow drip black acid disguised disqualified as coffee, trying to infuse character cracks long ago putty covered, but putty get olds, dry out, new surficial cracks appear and it ain’t easy to cover over some cracks a second, third or fourth time after time you are young; I am older than many, most; my cracks are not veins but full blown occluded memorized arteries and my heart works now on just three engines refurbished but still revving, and when sadness burst inside, despite prior experience vast, it cannot be washed away with a wet washcloth, a mother’s hug, those aspirins of human life, and memories complicate old~sad, comparisons made to sadness of loss from prior pasts, and it is easier and hard~different to so easy remove, cause think~thoughts pass by not again, old familiar pains, a /bad kind of resurrection, revivificcation, not again, and /with a shortened future ahead you refamilarize oneself with ’alone,’ and much larger questions thread swinging over my heart and head, so your please is request is fulfilled, this poem expiates away much, but know I’m running low on putty. natty p.s.is late on your subcontinent, so sleep and read it on the morrow, a fresh face day to be shared…❤️
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53
Humpty Dumpty was not like other eggs He had a face, arms and legs All he did was sit on a wall Was he not afraid of taking a fall? But I guess he knew that all to well For he had old cracks all over his shell But there he sat without a care Couldn't he just sit in a comfy chair? But Humpty Dumpty however Will not sit on the wall forever Because there will come a time when He can't be put back together again
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Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 4:48 PM UTC
Humpty Dumpty
I thought all my life I was surrounded Mirrors coating every surface Walking slow Trying to not let it crack Then I meet you You were see threw like glass Transparent even with small cracks For once I can be honest and not get stared at Seeing you made it all go black When I’m with you I can breath at last You see my cracks and still smile back I know It’s not fer ever Or if I’m in the past I have no regrets cause it was a blast But Thank You For showing me there's still hope Even if we all have cracks
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Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 8:56 PM UTC
Cracked Glass
One house. A rocky foundation, cracked from the beginning. I saw the crack and built anyway, tried to raise a mansion on top of it, pretending shaky ground could learn how to hold weight. I could hear the foundation splitting, small sounds at first, easy to explain away. So I stayed ignorant on purpose. Two and a half years later the foundation gave out and the house came crumbling down. Can a single crack really cause that much damage? It can.. when it’s left to widen in silence, when time keeps pulling it apart inch by inch, year by year. Until the base fails and everything built on top of it goes with it. All the memories and treasures inside Gone. Would it have been different if I hadn’t ignored the crack? Maybe. But some answers only exist in houses that never fell.
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Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 11:19 PM UTC
crack in the foundation
Voice cracks, When I feel overwhelmed. Like a mental attack, With no hope to defend myself. Voice cracks, When I feel nervous, Because I have a presentation, And I can’t seem to speak, And my words slur. If I were lying on my deathbed, I ponder, Would I remember, When I wondered, If I would remember, When I was younger, And my voice cracked? Voice cracks, When I feel anxious, Wondering if I’m worth it. Since it feels like I misuse the gifts I’m given. Voice cracks, When I feel passionate, Doesn’t happen often, But when it does, I struggle to let go. Even when it hurts my soul, And I wonder why I didn’t let go. If I were lying on my deathbed, Would this matter? Would I regret, Not making sure that it mattered? Would I pray for a chance to turn back the clock, Back to the days, when all of my worrying came, From whether or not my voice cracks? Voice cracks, When I feel overwhelmed, And I wonder, Why do I do this to myself? My biggest critic, My greatest asset, My only friend who’s guaranteed to me till the end. Voice cracks, When things just seem a bit too much, And I want to hide away, To return another day. If I were lying on my deathbed, Would I be satisfied, That I lived my life, Instead of watching it pass by? Though people came and went, Faces and names smudged by time. Did I do what I wanted to do? Or did I disappoint you? It wouldn’t matter then. I think I’d find, Myself longing to go back, To the times, Where all I had to worry about, Were my voice cracks.
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Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 9:15 PM UTC
Voice Cracks
Voice cracks, When I feel overwhelmed. Like a mental attack, With no hope to defend myself. Voice cracks, When I feel nervous, Because I have a presentation, And I can’t seem to speak, And my words slur. If I were lying on my deathbed, I ponder, Would I remember, When I wondered, If I would remember, When I was younger, And my voice cracked? Voice cracks, When I feel anxious, Wondering if I’m worth it. Since it feels like I misuse the gifts I’m given. Voice cracks, When I feel passionate, Doesn’t happen often, But when it does, I struggle to let go. Even when it hurts my soul, And I wonder why I didn’t let go. If I were lying on my deathbed, Would this matter? Would I regret, Not making sure that it mattered? Would I pray for a chance to turn back the clock, Back to the days, when all of my worrying came, From whether or not my voice cracks? Voice cracks, When I feel overwhelmed, And I wonder, Why do I do this to myself? My biggest critic, My greatest asset, My only friend who’s guaranteed to me till the end. Voice cracks, When things just seem a bit too much, And I want to hide away, To return another day. If I were lying on my deathbed, Would I be satisfied, That I lived my life, Instead of watching it pass by? Though people came and went, Faces and names smudged by time. Did I do what I wanted to do? Or did I disappoint you? It wouldn’t matter then. I think I’d find, Myself longing to go back, To the times, Where all I had to worry about, Were my voice cracks.
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58
not because they're wilting, but because i am. and the quiet it listens better than people do. the tap creaks, the light hums. a kind of lullaby for the ones who never learned how to rest. a cracked mug stares from the sink, still holding the ghost of yesterday's tea. i let it be. not everything broken needs fixing. outside, the world is asleep. inside, i am learning that survival can look like clean counters, wet soil, and breathing softer. i am not healed. but i am here. and sometimes, that's enough to make something bloom.
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Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 10:51 AM UTC
Wilting
the wind blew a little harder today— all for a chance to kiss you. i guess the coldness of days gone by do not scare you at all. now I whisper to find you, in the smallest of cracks, in the pauses between breaths, in the vastness of the evening breeze. nothing could ever make me stop searching for you. nor will i ever want to.
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May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 3:33 AM UTC
the wind and its howls
I've known you for so long, Longer than forever, Longer than all the circles of hell, Longer than simply never. I remember your cracks On your wind-chapped lips, Every wrinkle on your hands Because of a strong freeze. I hear every your word That is kept quiet by you. It's like a movie in constant replay, In which I can't hear you. I've got away so many times... Or maybe I thought so... The result is that I've never been able to. And now I'm here in whole. I'm with you, completely rudderless. I don't need it at all. I think I'll watch the rest of my life Here, with you in the starring role.
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Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 4:59 PM UTC
You're in the starring role
Just now I broke a teapot. My mind was in a spell: The shards look back forlornly, the cracking sound was its knell. It was a treasured heirloom passed down from age to age, touched by hands from times of old but now I’ve turned its page. It had served my family well etched by tea and good times spent. For now I’ll just be grateful that this old *** came and went.
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Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 4:33 PM UTC
The late teapot
i don’t even know what to say. all i know is that i want to say it. i’ve got words inside— i swear i do— but i haven’t felt enough to stir them in a while. i suppose there isn’t any poetry lying within the cracks of daily life when every day is the same. “𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢?” “𝘖𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.”
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Mar 19, 2024
Mar 19, 2024 at 3:47 PM UTC
as always
i don’t even know what to say. all i know is that i want to say it. i’ve got words inside— i swear i do— but i haven’t felt enough to stir them in a while. i suppose there isn’t any poetry lying within the cracks of daily life when every day is the same. “𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢?” “𝘖𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.”
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Mar 19, 2024
Mar 19, 2024 at 3:45 PM UTC
as always
opened my heart once after keeping everything in years and years filled to the brim and now i'm spilled, entirely maybe nobody can be fully prepared when the cracks in my heart can no longer bear all of its weight the dam finally breaks and i am the flood that drowns them i am spilled, entirely you see victims of a flood have the choice to leave and i will be left here, still caught in all the debris spilled, entirely
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Feb 25, 2024
Feb 25, 2024 at 8:18 AM UTC
the flood
I’d tear myself apart Just to figure out what’s inside Am I Out of my mind? Can I Take it back Cover my cracks And be anew? Can I Rewrite my song And just belong To who I wish to be? If I changed all my choices Back from when I used to be young Who would I become? I’m not sure I want to be who I am, right now. If I fall, should I stay down? Fall, then fill it with gold I say, fall, then fill it with gold I say, fall, then fill it with gold Not cracks, just beautiful. Yes, I Can take it back Forgive my cracks And be anew. Oh, I’ll Rewrite my song And just belong To who I wish to be. To who I will soon be.
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Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 4:10 PM UTC
Gold
I am not here. I want to be part of nature's depth. My body is naught but a broken husk. I do not want to mend the husk. I need to repair its many cracks. I can be here again.
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Sep 15, 2022
Sep 15, 2022 at 6:28 PM UTC
Where am I?
Parts of his existence: _A vessel_; is a magic that flows through its veins— the color of my cheeks and the color of his madness _A certainty_; all flesh and bone, sutured and bruised; we can be made of cracks, somehow. and my heart, he had it all as black holes grew in my chest (_as if the vacancies could be filled by his existence_) _for me, he is insatiable as I was always heartless_.
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May 29, 2022
May 29, 2022 at 5:16 AM UTC
Parts of his existence
cracks in the ground like a frozen sea cracks in the sky like a frozen lip—                 quivering then, and voiceless fluttering of word upon wordless wordy word a low wind that proud wheat     swept by                    a bowing horde of gold like kin on kin erupting (because root dooms with it the house) like a festival of distrust where all centres    in a tangle of struggles own throats hold gyres of limbs               that themselves **** themselves make a ruffled head that I so long combed now a sea wild wild now slithering babbling streams now lustful teasing waves that shore then shore meet and meet and will rest not at all what of— blind infancy of impulsive beliefs that through dunes and oases go and go (now nothing, now all, now none and all and all––) a–– many sandcastle homes of childish sight melt to doubt — hold it— this cleaving ground will be bound no more cracks, indeed, all around
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Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 1:12 PM UTC
Cracks
Look closer Even closer than you are noww Do you see the cracks? Do you see the inherent sadness in my sweetness through them? Do you see me being put together or do you see me crumbling?
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Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 7:49 PM UTC
Through the cracks
as her glass heart beats, it cracks little by little as her chest caves in. she closes her eyes. her deep, slow breaths restore her aching body as her chest straightens. the cracking suddenly stops. her soul glues the cracks and her heart is whole again, stronger than ever before.
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Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 12:41 AM UTC
stranger than fiction.
there are cracks cracks in the most beautiful stone the stones found in the ruins of hidden remains remains of an indescribably beautiful city a city that shone brighter than the brightest star It glittered like pyrite not like gold the pyrite city may have given off an iridescent shine but It was dark darker than the deepest, raging saltwater waves darker than the night sky without pestering clouds darker than the thoughts of those who wore a porcelain face and that gooey darkness was seeping through the cracks of those beautiful stones those fake stones, the ones that gave off that too-good-to-be-true shine were cracking under the pressure and letting the compression release
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Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 11:05 AM UTC
Cracks
It stares back at me A reflection I long thought of my own Too blind to see I cannot fix myself through you You kept adding cracks Refusing to care for yourself Ignoring your duties And pushing your problems on me Like a plague Your words sought my heart I kept tried to smile Believing you were too young Too young to understand Yet the voice inside Kept telling me the truth That it had to end No matter how far it would go Like everything in life It was no use It was no good You had to leave One way or another I ignored my own cracks for too long There is nothing I regret But maybe the last days I could have been free Way earlier than this The big stage wasn´t meant for us We both did mistakes in this play But I won´t give up Not yet at least I still have enough breath For another play All on my own Without your toxic thoughts Without you adding cracks to me A clear mirror Old but fixed Reflecting my movements This life Until another
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Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 9:39 AM UTC
Your Broken Mirror