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#devaluation
Everything is called beautiful, and beautiful -- things are just called 'nice'.
0
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 3:59 AM UTC
Everything is called
Drifting farther from the shallows, surrounded by waters that taste of salt, convinced that every fracture was entirely my fault. I wear my shame like iron, a heavy, rusted chain, apologizing to you for bleeding in the rain. Shattered glass—something broken, too ruined to be mended, thinking my love wasn’t enough and my capacity had ended. With the shift, my pain curdles, and the salt then turns to fire. I saw you as the architect, the cold and heartless liar. How dare you leave me standing here, a ruin in your wake. How much did you expect a human heart was meant to take? I curse the day I met you, a target for my blame. I’d burn every memory till nothing left remained. Foolishly convincing myself I could forget how your skin tastes, only to end up haunted by your ghost in every stranger’s face. Yet even as the lightning strikes, the storm begins to blur, and I find the precious memories begin to reoccur. Anger slips like water through the fingers of my fist, and I’m reaching for the very thing I swore would not be missed. Plagued by all the things I feel so passionately— guilt from all the chaos, highs and lows I keep repeating, and dragging you along to share the burdens that this curse brings. I realize that many times the battles were not worth it. I’ve made mistakes and punished you at times you didn’t deserve it, expecting that my hurtful words be excused, and then rewarded. Forget the rage, the bitter words, the storms we put ourselves through, all the damage from the “I hate yous” and “I love yous.” I’d do anything to show you that my heart beats only for you. My problem is I’m cursed to run, but my compass only points toward you.
0
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 11:51 PM UTC
I'll share this curse with you.
Drifting farther from the shallows, surrounded by waters that taste of salt, convinced that every fracture was entirely my fault. I wear my shame like iron, a heavy, rusted chain, apologizing to you for bleeding in the rain. Shattered glass—something broken, too ruined to be mended, thinking my love wasn’t enough and my capacity had ended. With the shift, my pain curdles, and the salt then turns to fire. I saw you as the architect, the cold and heartless liar. How dare you leave me standing here, a ruin in your wake. How much did you expect a human heart was meant to take? I curse the day I met you, a target for my blame. I’d burn every memory till nothing left remained. Foolishly convincing myself I could forget how your skin tastes, only to end up haunted by your ghost in every stranger’s face. Yet even as the lightning strikes, the storm begins to blur, and I find the precious memories begin to reoccur. Anger slips like water through the fingers of my fist, and I’m reaching for the very thing I swore would not be missed. Plagued by all the things I feel so passionately— guilt from all the chaos, highs and lows I keep repeating, and dragging you along to share the burdens that this curse brings. I realize that many times the battles were not worth it. I’ve made mistakes and punished you at times you didn’t deserve it, expecting that my hurtful words be excused, and then rewarded. Forget the rage, the bitter words, the storms we put ourselves through, all the damage from the “I hate yous” and “I love yous.” I’d do anything to show you that my heart beats only for you. My problem is I’m cursed to run, but my compass only points toward you.
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56
When the earth celebrates a solar year, The cost of life whispers in my ear. It rose up, the easy act won't backup. The easiness of faceless is being asked, "What is it the result?" I ask. It's easy for people to leave. It's easy to be devalued. It's easy for mind to linger past. It's easy to reminisce moments, Cherished memories— yet to be closed as a chapter. It's paradoxical—they face the same. "What is it the result?" I ask. It's paradoxical—they feel the same.
0
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
What Is It The Result?
It was not me who you loved. It was not me who you saw, but rather the mirror you put before me. It was not my voice you heard, but rather your own echo. The mirror you held between us was fragile. Slowly it began to crack. Each time I held you closer, the mirror began to disintegrate. The more the mirror began to break, The more you saw me. But you cannot stand to not stare at your own reflection. As the mirror shattered, so did my heart. You picked up the chards and threw them to my skin. For you do not see the blood coursing through my veins, but rather the lack of yourself. For it was not me who you loved, but rather your mirror.
0
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC
Broken Mirror.
I love the wind’s howling. The breath of God surrounds me. It’s angry and loud. It says Destroy yourselves! and we do. Well we do a bit, but we’re so obsessed with living. What the hell for? ******* parasites.
0
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Destruct