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#flaws
inspired by, for ~EvelynYiningChen~ who wrote https://hellopoetry.com/poems/5305604/the-night-phobic-im-pro-vising ~~ The term for the fear of phobias (or the fear of fear itself) is phobophobia <~> Nyctophobia (and the others, too) are an extreme, irrational fear of the dark or night-time, not necessarily a result of living in Nyc, (whew!) often stemming from a fear of the unknown or potential threats rather than darkness itself but! there are other practical phobias; If, you have in your possession, a childlike fear of monsters under the bed (teraphobia), serial killers in the closet (foniasophobia), werewolves at the door (lycanthrophobia) and ghosts, well, everywhere (phasmophobia) you are diagnoseable, and maybe a treatment is available, no joking matter, one takes your phobias most sincerely, me? nine or none, that I know of, the monsters in my closeted mind, are by now old familiar friends, their threats are customary fare, that govern my pseudo~sleeping hours and clumpy brackets or rest disrupted walk the house in a moonless deep country dark, a self~challenge to see if one can make it safely to the couch without k-nocking into obstacles that appear overnight, sensitized to the occasional gleams that portend danger ahead and self-mock my asinine, silly heroic efforts to keep the bright light of my Apple 12 cellphone locked, forgone, a male pretense of ouch! toughness… *** there are humans and therefore, there are flaws, and the flaws live along a continuum of silly to deadly seriously but if you can grin and learn bare & yet bear it, and still bewarey of it knowing that your rationality is superior, and of course, acknowledge it then perhaps someday, you will address them as: faux~be-~a~gone
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May 24
May 24, 2026 at 10:45 AM UTC
Phobophobia (Fear of Fear): Nyctophobia, achluophobia, lygophobia or scotophobia
inspired by, for ~EvelynYiningChen~ who wrote https://hellopoetry.com/poems/5305604/the-night-phobic-im-pro-vising ~~ The term for the fear of phobias (or the fear of fear itself) is phobophobia <~> Nyctophobia (and the others, too) are an extreme, irrational fear of the dark or night-time, not necessarily a result of living in Nyc, (whew!) often stemming from a fear of the unknown or potential threats rather than darkness itself but! there are other practical phobias; If, you have in your possession, a childlike fear of monsters under the bed (teraphobia), serial killers in the closet (foniasophobia), werewolves at the door (lycanthrophobia) and ghosts, well, everywhere (phasmophobia) you are diagnoseable, and maybe a treatment is available, no joking matter, one takes your phobias most sincerely, me? nine or none, that I know of, the monsters in my closeted mind, are by now old familiar friends, their threats are customary fare, that govern my pseudo~sleeping hours and clumpy brackets or rest disrupted walk the house in a moonless deep country dark, a self~challenge to see if one can make it safely to the couch without k-nocking into obstacles that appear overnight, sensitized to the occasional gleams that portend danger ahead and self-mock my asinine, silly heroic efforts to keep the bright light of my Apple 12 cellphone locked, forgone, a male pretense of ouch! toughness… *** there are humans and therefore, there are flaws, and the flaws live along a continuum of silly to deadly seriously but if you can grin and learn bare & yet bear it, and still bewarey of it knowing that your rationality is superior, and of course, acknowledge it then perhaps someday, you will address them as: faux~be-~a~gone
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64
i look in the mirror & realize i do not see a complete reflection i see scatterings of flaws across the glass a constellation of pimples across my cheeks darts of crows feet branch beside eyes glossed as evening settles in a hint of wrinkles on the five head gratiously passed along to my girls all indications of a worn-in life grays streak through my frizzy, droopy curls lazily plopped on my head as they have been albeit with more pigment since '97 coincidentally around the same time the zits began i ask myself: why do i judge each blemish when every one is the shadow of a life I cherish
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May 18
May 18, 2026 at 9:27 PM UTC
shards.
I have a problem i get too obsessive and possessive once i find something i like i lose my filter and say things that shouldn't be said people choose not to notice when i slip on another mask but i always do and i cant stop myself from obsessing and being possessive
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Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 12:36 PM UTC
DRAFT: I'll probably change it later
Look in the mirror how you're sculpted. The color of your eyes, how they hide your despair and hold the galaxies together. The mole next to your eye stands out like a lone star in the night sky. The shade of your skin, whether pale, brown or coffee black, they glimmer like tides in the sun. The stretch marks etched onto your stomach, like lightning in the sky. The way your body is built, godlike in its own way, but you're blinded by the voices that tell you otherwise. You're a creation of nature; an artwork painted with precision. Your beauty is a tapestry; a reminder of your ancestry. Remember, my love, you're one of a kind.
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Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 3:27 AM UTC
Look in the Mirror
Staring at the wall. Fake ivy strewn across a blemish of black mould. An unfortunate self-portait.
0
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 10:57 AM UTC
Self-portrait
I could not give you Perfection Like you wanted But I loved all of your Imperfections Because I wanted you
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Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 9:40 AM UTC
Imperfect
Only two people have no flaws in the whole world newly in love, both.
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Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 3:07 AM UTC
Haiku #6
I love burnt marshmallows and my favorite color’s green. I’ll say I’m very open, but my favorite game’s hide and seek. I’m kind of bad with money- ya know, I can always make more. I’ll distract you with jokes if we dive too deep into my lore. I’ll remember your birthday, stress for months on the perfect gift. I’ll be properly obsessed with you until I feel the shift. I am such a lover girl until the loving feels too real- giving someone the power to hurt me is a soul-crushing, humongous deal. I will fight against it- there’s no love without the risk. But it will be a struggle, and no one deserves my ******** fits. One day, someone will want them, raincoat and boots in tow: “What’s a little rain in the grand scheme, when at the end I get to love you though?”
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Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 8:46 AM UTC
Small Talk
I’ve tasted the echoes of a flame; inhaling silhouettes of the night’s smoke; wasting time under the clouds of downhill voices, speaking low on my worth.Where I recall my mother’s voice as the sturdy cane of discipline – as we read about disciples who were just ordinary men; we were orderly raised, where being scolded a third time about coming to bath at five, was just a part of our ordinary days. My most trusted companions where the imaginary friends I made up – who knew they'd get me in trouble, if I was found talking to myself while I play. And I don’t feel that old, but nostalgia has been resting on my soul; the better parts of it, and also the worst – where I grew up with the biggest fear around girls. Though part of that fear still remains, only we changed the fear of girls, to a fear of falling in love with the wrong girl. “But I love her though,” by that statement I'll know I’ve definitely fallen underneath the floor. I hardly questioned my flaws; until I grew a little order and started to be so aware of them all – then I grew a little older, to soon realize they’re all just a part of us all. And I don’t feel that old, even when the wisdom I get isn’t always the same wisdom the youth can own – still I hope their purpose is the one thing they can own. I have to keep a piece of self-worth in my silver thoughts, interlaced like a plait – even when I think up a few corny bars; I still see myself as platinum. _Signed here... a Platinum baby._
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Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 5:10 PM UTC
Platinum baby
I’ve tasted the echoes of a flame; inhaling silhouettes of the night’s smoke; wasting time under the clouds of downhill voices, speaking low on my worth.Where I recall my mother’s voice as the sturdy cane of discipline – as we read about disciples who were just ordinary men; we were orderly raised, where being scolded a third time about coming to bath at five, was just a part of our ordinary days. My most trusted companions where the imaginary friends I made up – who knew they'd get me in trouble, if I was found talking to myself while I play. And I don’t feel that old, but nostalgia has been resting on my soul; the better parts of it, and also the worst – where I grew up with the biggest fear around girls. Though part of that fear still remains, only we changed the fear of girls, to a fear of falling in love with the wrong girl. “But I love her though,” by that statement I'll know I’ve definitely fallen underneath the floor. I hardly questioned my flaws; until I grew a little order and started to be so aware of them all – then I grew a little older, to soon realize they’re all just a part of us all. And I don’t feel that old, even when the wisdom I get isn’t always the same wisdom the youth can own – still I hope their purpose is the one thing they can own. I have to keep a piece of self-worth in my silver thoughts, interlaced like a plait – even when I think up a few corny bars; I still see myself as platinum. _Signed here... a Platinum baby._
Continue reading...
23
The worst part of it all is that I can’t even recognize the depth of my own flaws. I beg for forgiveness, but the same destructive habits rise up once again. Why can’t I change? I try over and over, sifting through the past, searching for the root of what needs to be fixed. But every time I think I’ve grasped it, it slips away, sinking back into the soil, just out of reach. The more I struggle, the further it moves from me. What am I doing wrong? I can’t seem to understand. The guilt tears at me, a gut-wrenching pain swelling in my chest as I hear how I’ve hurt you. Each day brings a new argument, one that never seems to resolve. I can handle the fights, as long as I get to keep you, but it doesn’t change anything; you just seem to drift farther away. I want to meet you in the middle, to make the effort, to bridge the gap, but it feels like the distance between us only grows. Every misstep, every harsh word, every mistake adds to the void. I just want to fix it, to end the pain, and to grow beyond this darkness inside of me.
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Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 8:19 AM UTC
Flawed
expect flaws, be flawed yourself expect perfection, as something human every person is but one part if someone plays your tune, just listen sing along, ask to dance, bravely share with them and you'll know if they are family or a roller coaster wild experience memories to treasure
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Jan 27, 2025
Jan 27, 2025 at 7:03 AM UTC
memories
i see flaws everywhere: the skewed clock on the plastered wall; the faces flashing past the curtain call; the faithless creed of heathens, and sleazeballs; the smiles that hide the symptoms of withdrawal; i see laws bent out of shape: the policemen advantaging off exposed women; the two-faced lawyers in courts, who summon - the men questioned of their dignity, and religion; the reporters come drooling, for a big fat commission.   i seek help, in vain: the therapists diagnose me for a cerebral disorder; they fail to put their words in the right order - to put me at ease in the right frame of mind, so - i accept my flaws under a contract, signed.
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Jan 5, 2025
Jan 5, 2025 at 2:33 AM UTC
flaws
Not easy on eyes Too hard headed Too stubborn for you to try I want my voice to be heard Like to have final word I get it, too opinionated for you to try But, I never promised to bow down Serving your every wimp, hands down Born without zip on my mouth, Too proud to back down I get it, too flawed to try this out.
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Dec 30, 2024
Dec 30, 2024 at 1:43 AM UTC
Flawed
It’s not that I fell for you and slowly got to know you I didn’t go deeper I am in deep I know all of you And now I love you
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Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 7:20 AM UTC
it makes a difference
freckle-speckle face, marks like delicate lightning on stomach and thighs, soft form like Aphrodite. broad, sturdy bones wrapped in imperfection. with flaws like gems, you shine the brightest.
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Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 10:28 AM UTC
untitled 4
I‘ve looked at you for a long time; Your wish to be extraordinary Is that yours or mine? Is it narcissistic tugging at my soul; the world Or do you make it whole? I‘ve looked at you for a long time Searched for your flaws But I found mine Love; Why have you left some souls behind? And is that your fault Or is that mine?
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Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 8:14 AM UTC
Dear you,
Will you kiss my scars? Will you love my rot and decay too? Crystallize me in all that’s unnatural and unpleasant. Frame me in my ugly. Be there when I see no light but only beckoning hands into the darkness. Cut me your hand to hold instead of trimming the edges of my sanity. Starve yourself with me. Starve yourself of me. Taste me when I’m solely iron in your body, trickling down your nose to remind you I'm there. Feed me sugar cubes to keep the flies warm. Wean me off the good stuff until I shame you for sharing. Won’t you keep me sated? Won’t you blanket your daisies in my mouth? But what about the moths? What about the maggots and, oh, what about the monkeys that tease you to let me go? Let the dead go. Let her go, they say. You won’t kiss my scars again if you knew I was dead. Decaying won and I still love you! I still love you. I still love you. How can’t I? You loved me enough to care for the rot.
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Dec 11, 2024
Dec 11, 2024 at 2:11 PM UTC
Will you love my rot and decay too?
I was sitting by the mailbox waiting on love, stiff as a recently washed shirt- sitting on an ironing board I’m sorry if you catch me in a sour mood, there’s this moody spirit that let me fall in love with the echoes hitting the wall- While my voice was shouting at the wind; I could hardly breathe My lover played a tune with my beard, as if they were guitar strings- But I couldn’t complain to this lioness, for she’s the roar of a mistress’s hungry temper But I still love her so, still from the days of our courtship- and every night she opens up to me as a suitcase, and I bare the luggage of her nightly sores, with these bags hanging under my eyes- I still love her so, as her chatter mouth is like a tap running, and I’m her sink catching all that gossiping spit- I still love her so, even as she’s an office desk covered in endless papers, when she starts to feel like a piece of work- I still love her so, cos she firstly showed me all of her flaws, so nothing she does surprises me at all; still she was pleasantly surprised that I still chose her, to be my wife
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Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 3:44 AM UTC
I still love her so
I noticed I stopped being so judgmental Maybe because I have become more human and in doing so I have understood what being human is. I am flawed I make mistakes And I learn I improve I love I hurt And I try again.
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Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 6:30 PM UTC
Becoming Human
I know what I am. I am a familiar to my faults. I line them up each morning and sound them off at the top of my lungs. I hold them in my arms and rock them back to sleep every night. They cling to me as scars linger on the skin. They burst out during the most inopportune moments; breaking through silence like water through rust.
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Mar 16, 2024
Mar 16, 2024 at 7:50 AM UTC
12-aug-2017
Oops, I edit As I go, I take a step Then erase it. It’s counterproductive, Don’t I know, But I see the flaw Then I chase it. It won’t go away ‘Til the mirror is shattered, Whether or not It actually matters. So I’ll cut and I’ll add I’ll rewrite, double back Only hoping that you’ll Love what’s left In the end.
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Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 11:26 AM UTC
edit as you go
Mirror, mirror on the wall, reflect the stranger within my soul. Unveil my strength, my grace, expose my scars and flaws and all.
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Jan 15, 2024
Jan 15, 2024 at 4:31 AM UTC
Magic Mirror
A reflection draws to attention The flaws normally hidden And the beauty that radiates The one more focused on Creates the biggest impact
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Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 6:37 PM UTC
Reflection