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#existance
How do I explain? It's not trauma or the people, it's my broken shattered dopamine receptors. How do I say that I am the horrifying backstory of my family linage, that I only look better from far that I am tolerable as long as I stay as a concept. How do I explain me?
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Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 9:43 AM UTC
Parts Of Me
Roses tint the moon till the lakes turn cherry, Like the sun that kisses the edge of the world Till the sky begins to blush. Stars scatter across a celestial tapestry, Ancestors watching as the kids go by. The trees rarely sway with the wind, Roots running deep till they touch springs hidden within. The rain brings a sweetness that the creatures run to find, And the greenery that dots the safari sands, Relishes a meal so divine.
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Dec 12, 2025
Dec 12, 2025 at 11:22 PM UTC
The Passing Times
madness is my safety the warm blanket in the coldest winter i cling to it for the truth scarred me beyond any human understanding nobody really gets me so why do people sympathize with things they've never felt before i keep thinking that you would have been the best thing in my life the endless spray of imagination, gripping at the back of my mind my neck stiff, my eyes a draught my tongue sour, my lips burdened by a million other word i stopped myself from saying outloud oh the burden i have to carry every day when will the sun set to the left when will our head go hot and cold when will the end of the world reveal to us that in flesh and in bones we are nothing but ashes scattered among dry and wet and yet dry is all i've been
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Dec 6, 2025
Dec 6, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
Insane
Feels like I won’t fit anywhere, not in rooms, not in hearts, not even in air. Like I was born out of place, a wrong note in a song no one dares to play. Feels like I am not worth anything, not a glance, not a second, not a kind word. Just a shadow walking through noise, an empty chair no one remembers to miss. Feels like I’m a burden, a silent load they carry with gritted teeth. Their kindness feels like mercy, not love. Just tolerance. Just time ticking. Feels like God made a mistake when He placed me in my mother’s womb. Like He flinched when He saw me forming, like He whispered, “Not her,” but it was too late. Feels like He regrets it every day, watching me stumble in a skin that never fit, watching me ache for meaning in a world that turns away from my voice. Feels like I should end it myself, not to escape, but to give peace to them. To stop being the sigh in their silence, the tear they hide, the guilt they carry. Feels like if I leave, the sun might shine softer, the room might feel lighter, and no one would have to pretend anymore.
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Jun 12, 2025
Jun 12, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC
Feels Like I Shouldn’t Be Here
love , how can i teach you to love me ? love can never be taught
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May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 9:20 AM UTC
love
To feel lost in time is like waking up to nothingness Numbness and pain fighting for dominance Being awake but wishing for sleep Life and death merging into one Finding yourself being ripped in half but a thread holding the pieces together Not knowing how to continue and yet walking forwards anyways Wanting to disappear and yet still existing
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Sep 8, 2021
Sep 8, 2021 at 2:25 AM UTC
Crises
I just feel dizy Where all the time go Nothing is logical and I've lot the sense of purpose And even though I'm still a human My body makes me feel like I'm just a reject Reject of stars Reject of life Nothing is logical and I've lost the sense of purpose My body's flying But I stay put down Is this really the end of my existance?
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May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 4:39 PM UTC
Reject
🤍🤍🤍 i asked mirror;who am i, mirror replied;i exist you! ... THAN AFTER SOMETIME ... i asked mirror:who are you, mirror replied;you are my existance! ... THEN I LAUGHED OUT LOUD ... he said sweetly😋we exist each other👨🏼‍🤝‍👨🏻 ❤❤ JUST LIKE A DESERT WITHOUT WATER! BREATHLESS WITHOUT OXYGEN! SOUL WITHOUT HEART! LOVE WITHOUT PAIN! ❤❤ you are everything for me........❤❤❤ 🤍🤍🤍
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Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC
👁🗨MIRROR talk🎯
I pinch myself to the point of drawing blood and still remain unconvinced that this is not a dream. I wonder if you are also skeptical. Proof exists in all states and it is up to the observer to choose that which they believe is real. There is no wrong answer, every dream is real. Take the path of most appeal, not the one of least resistance.
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Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 11:57 PM UTC
The reality of dreams
Here it comes, another downward spiral into existential dread and the meager meaning of life. I don't know what emotions feel like anymore. Strip myself down to the core and blast that into ******* oblivion. You wouldn't even know. Look deeper. Look deeper. Look deeper. There's nothing there! **** you and your conniving business partners! Instilling false hope in the minds of people who really just need to be chucked out on their ***** into the dead of night, onto the cold hard ground of true reality. And all the while you're expecting payment.
0
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 11:35 PM UTC
How much does enlightenment cost?
The pulsating loneliness of reality in the flesh haunts me like the ghosts of my other selves. Who am I in this moment and how will I choose to show it? The constant motion of life paves the way to a grasping of something more. Fleeting emptiness is always shattered by a falling leaf. How can I sit here and not be effected by the push and pull of humanities breath? How to be stoic when I am but a cloud of dust on the open plains? The instant you choose to bare all in transparency, you find out there is nothing there. Now to live with that as if everything were fine. Walk the long road to your current location and be disappointed when its not what you expected it to be. Hold us down with flesh and blood till it rots away and takes with it your sense of identity. Embrace myself as the stagnating pool of emotions that I am, and ***** the symbols of sounds I hear in my head, into existence on a creased piece of paper.
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Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 11:22 PM UTC
I in this moment
You can not have nature without art, the very essence of nature is creativity, everything created is art. The art of nature is everywhere. Every form is an expression of creativity, every flower, every rock, every animal is a piece of art. We live in an ever changing, evolving, art gallery. And we humans are as much a part of it as any form. How can we possibly think we are separate from this? Why would we be the only thing in the entire existence of life that isn't connected to the whole? Don't flatter yourself.
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Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 10:52 PM UTC
The relationship between Art & Nature
In time, we timelessly live in, One pause, one move, breathe out and in. Time out will turn itself into continuation - Does time exists? Or is it our own novation? Through time we count with past our future. A second’s, moment’s, minute’s suture Turns time of day enlightened light Into a darkness' time engulfing fight. Time walks in clocks, circles around And silently steal years of dawn. Outside of universe, where truth all lies - I timelessly revise.
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Jan 19, 2020
Jan 19, 2020 at 10:07 PM UTC
Time
There is but one thing, That all humans fear, Yet nothing we do, Slows dreaded advance.   Yes, death is the end, No comfort in that, But life is therefore, More precious, more pure. For us that will die, Are luckier still, Infinite lives lost, Never to be lived. That we do exist, Is reward enough, And better is now, Than all time before. Our time here will soon, Come to darkest end, And yet before then, Life still has its time.
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Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC
The Oldest Fear
I Need You For My Existance
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Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
This Is It
Here, the people rest Under the sound of a bustling train. Here, the people sit Under the weight of many burdens on their backs. Here, the people watch The time tick by too quick to catch hold of. Here, the people yawn With gaping mouth waiting for their time to arrive. Here, the people ponder Of many things, I know not of. Here, the people quiet Through the journey long ahead. Here, the people ride Through miles of endless thought. Here, the people listen Yet they don't, their eyes transfixed on empty space. Here, the people are For here they just exist Passing as a shadow No, there's nothing here to hear Nothing here to see The people are simply here.
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May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 10:30 PM UTC
Hear the People
From the shadows, the sunlight- Pours down like so much rain, And I know that I've been here before- And I'll come back here again, The clock ticks the years away- And they pass by like another day, And if I can't go home again, Well, I'm sure I'll be okay.
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 11:03 PM UTC
Hourglass Broken
Every night on soothing darkness Get lost among the bright stars Find a clue of your existence
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 4:18 AM UTC
Sign Of Life
our bodies are made of glass, so fragile that when you dropped me, i shattered. and the pieces were left behind, to remind me of all the things i did, that made the blood splatter. everyday, i take a shard you left behind, and crease it across my skin i bleed out, but don’t cry, because i won’t let you win.
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Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 12:41 PM UTC
breakable but replaceable
i remember hating myself, filling journals to the brim with criticisms. i used to spend time at the herb garden plucking mint leaves from their stems, and in the branches of apple trees at the far end of the orchard, picking ripe ones. i climbed as high as i dared to get them, muscles burning. wiping my forehead with the hem of my shirt, standing on a branch, when i licked my lips and looked at the next one. then i had enough pages in my journal to use my bobbin and stitch them into wings, to fly close enough to the sun, to see my tears turn to steam, to feel the wax burn on my shoulders and mold into thick skin. i started to lift myself up, to put the other foot down, and the branch snapped. a gasp escaped me as i pressed both palms to my chest. i felt the monster of pain again, writhing in the empty space in me. then i wanted to die. the monstrous pain had its claws around my throat, i twisted and put my head between my knees, when i finally found a solution. figured if i cut my wrists enough gravity would let me go. but i kept breathing until the strangled feeling left me. because life is taking all of the love i could never give myself, and putting it to good use. so when i told you, that you almost make life worth it, i was not joking. when i tell you, that you almost make me forget how much I hate myself, it is not poetry. it is reminding myself that if someone can care for the scars, administer the pills, absorb the bad moments, then i can try to breathe again. don’t hide because it will only cause pain. i know this because i did it myself. and i learned that just like a clean slate, everybody needs a new journal.
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Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
new journal
i remember hating myself, filling journals to the brim with criticisms. i used to spend time at the herb garden plucking mint leaves from their stems, and in the branches of apple trees at the far end of the orchard, picking ripe ones. i climbed as high as i dared to get them, muscles burning. wiping my forehead with the hem of my shirt, standing on a branch, when i licked my lips and looked at the next one. then i had enough pages in my journal to use my bobbin and stitch them into wings, to fly close enough to the sun, to see my tears turn to steam, to feel the wax burn on my shoulders and mold into thick skin. i started to lift myself up, to put the other foot down, and the branch snapped. a gasp escaped me as i pressed both palms to my chest. i felt the monster of pain again, writhing in the empty space in me. then i wanted to die. the monstrous pain had its claws around my throat, i twisted and put my head between my knees, when i finally found a solution. figured if i cut my wrists enough gravity would let me go. but i kept breathing until the strangled feeling left me. because life is taking all of the love i could never give myself, and putting it to good use. so when i told you, that you almost make life worth it, i was not joking. when i tell you, that you almost make me forget how much I hate myself, it is not poetry. it is reminding myself that if someone can care for the scars, administer the pills, absorb the bad moments, then i can try to breathe again. don’t hide because it will only cause pain. i know this because i did it myself. and i learned that just like a clean slate, everybody needs a new journal.
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Outlaws in Love You, a chaotic beauty, Shootin' smiles from distance. A dangerous puzzle - Lost, with in your own existence. Me, a haywire mess, Trying to make sense of things. Willing to be by your side; In summers, winters, falls and springs. We, a crazy hybird of chaos and peril. Ready, to have a crazy ride. Ready, to be the outlaws in love, Like Bonnie and Clyde.
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Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
Outlaws in Love
I am here and I do not question why I can't comprehend the thought if I try I have been taught that religion can't lie So I must have a life after I die I am here but at night, dark and silent God loves us - So why is he so violent? That is when I reach true enlightenment Perhaps God has forever been absent I am here and my opinion is proud My view of God isn't a man on a cloud I am here and my opinion is loud I am here and my opinion is allowed
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
I am here