#innervoice
The AI codes can’t count my soul—
just count my soul in skin and bones;
:count me coded, code me counted—
You count in code, I count in soul—
to write this song without your song;
come write these wrongs in gold…
what right makes them strong?
—but Authentic Intelligence
to prove them wrong:
Human AI…
indivisible.
Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 12:11 AM UTC
There’s being full, a fool,
a fool in love— I can’t tell
which one I am to you; whole,
or just half-truth dressed in
something that feels true.
Obsessed— dream-fed, still
needing your kisses; glued
to skin on skin; something
that stitches, but is this love…
or repeated fixes?
Heart up front—yet I front
my heart; why race you,
just to play a part?
Love is blind— a blindfold gift
you never see; I hand you gold;
you hold it differently.
Bittersweet; see-through ties/lies
I still maintain; past plays back,
redirects—and love just plays
again: oh, what a forgetful,
blind, ignorant cycle.
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 4:14 AM UTC
Last Message Received —
...lust isn’t a feeling I’d openly receive—
I sign for nothing that arrives skin-deep.
A grey smile worn; I feel so blue;
raw pink cheeks—but not love’s red,
more like a notification not yet read;
heat without heartbeat, warmth misled—
a silent reply that was never sent.
Paragraph lines assemble a face,
well-formatted pain in a presentable place;
pretty at a glance, but shift your view—
the margins hold wars I never wrote through.
I am dual-SIM soul—
two selves on call: one rings me out,
names every flaw, the other cuts the line
mid-fall, then goes offline when life gets raw.
Highs and lows—compressed to text,
life summarized in what comes next;
“YOLO”—they type,
Like that’s the truth… one life to live—
yet I live in two.
Mar 19
Mar 19, 2026 at 4:09 PM UTC
Chapter 4: Won’t Back Down
What folly is this, Vessel!
Must I watch you fall down in trenches
Like a ghost haunting the branches,
Like a Geist dissolving in the mist.
Such spiralling chain of thoughts,
condescending tone of preaching,
vexing art of discreet sabotage!
Your obsession with loathing
Is beyond my understanding
Can you fathom the gravity of this?
Lamenting over the fact that you are not worthy of me?
On what assumptions are you proposing this convoluted theory?
Are you perhaps not on the right footing?
Trapping yourself in the mazes of maybes.
Awestruck, I stand-for how convincing you can be.
If not for these cursed dignitaries, I’d be but a whisper and you a shrine without a god.
Vessel. Oh, Vessel.
You are not broken and beat.
You’re just tired and stripped.
You don’t reek of sycophancy.
You’re hurt in too deep.
When you speak FEAR.
You speak of truth.
For what is truth if not pain in disguise.
Few understand it for it dwells in plain sight
One could argue that’s a proper disguise.
And for pain to unveil the veil of truth.
You first must lose.
For,
Pain is inevitable, but not the worst that there is.
The abyss distorts the truth but not concepts.
Thus, I ask of you again
Won’t you let go of this madness?
Won’t you open yourself to me?
To let it shimmer down and SCREAM!
Quixotic penitence is like chivalry, seldom seen
The Heritage that gleams, one that no one’s ever seen!
Don’t invalidate heights one aspires to be!
And if you’re so pathetic to leave them then-
Beseech me with your soliloquies!
Must I repeat myself, Vessel!
Must you relinquish in catharsis self-pity?
Must you be a victim for the world to see?
Must tragedy be what you perceive?
Must that be what you need?
Must you, bleed?
What more must you desire?
A linchpin? A nieve? A fire? A twig?
A passage that leads to valour?
Fame of a messiah?
A bard’s lyre?
Anything you want
I can grant thee
But
How derisory of you to cave in!
Not all that is visceral should bear meaning.
Non-Verbal pleas. Partially traversed lanes.
Stubbornness and zeal are two different states.
One paves the path, one leads astray.
Forfeiting will only intensify the quakes.
Breaking what’s broken.
Therefore, I say.
United in Grief.
Unified to create.
That’s what we ought to do.
Not just a symphony of lines,
But a meaningful line must we pursue
As the delegate. As the Keeper in place.
As the Herald. As the Witness of grace.
Starring you — “The Vessel”
And I — “The Voice.”
The Yin-Yang of this melody called Life.
The Perfect sage!
Chapter 5: Elicitation of Rainy days
The Vessel nodded silently to the voice.
Not resisting. Not opposing.
Just silence
what follow through
was nothing new for a mere object
Plethora of such moments existed.
The vessel recalls of times
It was promised of grace
And each time it dared for a reach.
Fate would roll the dice
And all one could hear were the screech,
Screams and sounds described as outrage,
Out of bound voice that dared to raise,
Tried to disrespectfully erase,
Furthering the gaps of understanding
Or
so, the dignitaries say!
It pleased the dignitaries
When the vessel was played
Chipping away at his existence
Like the sea coming back to bay
While preaching of being kind
And keeping it a buck-shot
In the life of Cobain
Yet not a voice raised,
At the cruelty that was silently displayed.
Until it showed the signs of breaking away
Talking back became his routine
Venom in the tongue, Poison in veins
The dignitaries felt annoyance
Yet couldn’t denounce his stance
For it’d hurt their pride.
Their pride of acting Great
Unlike them it was incomplete
So, they just mocked away
at his misery and pain
But it’d not break the vessel
So, they devised a ploy
For their ultimate joy
Even Frey would condemn
Its every phrase.
They became “kind” to the vessel
Like they are to the waifs
Much to the vessel’s dismay
They pitied his situation
In an almost mocking way
The vessel was confused
But couldn’t stay mute
They grinned a little
“a little more” monologue says
His anger grew so violent.
“I” felt heavy.
“Him” felt like a glaze.
With each loss of identity.
The vessel finally cracked away.
Him became it.
A mere object now lives in his place!
The vessel declines once again.
For Uncertainty grew issues of trust.
Every inch of it was filled with hurt.
Neither hope lingered nor growth spurt.
A nod of denial
An eye that’s deeper than the black sea
And if left unseen
This unforeseen event could be a bad decision
Lost in between, rapturing too livid to end the mission
The change in scenes, there must be a valid solution!
Chapter 6: Escalating shenanigans
For someone close to annihilation
You’re way too dramatic!
I ask you a question
You frown and act whimsical
Then answer with nuisances.
So, what if you’re broken and beat.
I never asked you to be perfect.
Tragedy isn’t yours to cave in.
Monologues longer than science fiction
Would you, just listen to me,
For a second, and stop thinking!
Obscure thoughts are incremental
Normalcy feels haunting.
Distress in the air, the crown feels mental
Loss of oxygen, the air to the throne is not seen!
While romanticizing grief isn’t a bad thing.
Submerging in the past means, eating an orange peel
While leaving the fruit as is!
Still not convinced?
Let me put it in a way
Easier for understanding
See there’s this strange empty void
Use it as a bin for storage
Take some inventory
Put it out and see a ford engine, door hinge, syringe, an orange, an extension cord, a ninja sword, not to mention four linchpins, an ironing board, a bench, wrench an attention sore!
Absurd isn’t it?
Fiddling with past is a tough conundrum
An enigma well foreseen
The more you try to grasp it
Vessel
The farther it takes you with it.
An endless pursuit
A start without a good ending.
Words could only do so much
And time doesn’t wait to barge in.
So, like it or not here I come.
The voice entered the vessel
The vessel tried denying the stranger
But it was too late for the rumble
For it gave a weak struggle
Even an object craves danger
If it means change is plausible
Regardless of what comes
the awkwardness of vessel
is ruining the outcome.
Stay tuned for the final encounter!
Chapter 7: Kintsugi
The vessel’s nervousness filled the room
Its eyes were shut but then came a colour
It was silent then came a breath
It was antsy but it felt more.
The longer the anticipation grew
The nauseous it felt.
Like how the tree feels
During the peak of spring
When life’s in the air
And it’d survived Autum’s rot!
But unlike the tree this object felt
More than what meets the eye
A pure transformation!
A genuine being!
The vessel felt lively after a rather long voyage
The lone vagabond finally caught the crimson moon.
It had never felt this feeling.
The utter joy was breath taking!
It called for the voice but the voice did not answer!
It tried again, still not a single phrase of that pompous annoyance!
The vessel grew anxious and kept calling to no avail
The voice was gone; the vessel was alone in the sail.
Though it had been granted a chance of the holy grail
Of life and experiences none has ever seen nor lived to tell
This is the beginning of a longer tale but
It began to rain
Almost godly for the gods seem to sympathize
With the vessel’s sorrow
Thus, granting rain as a company
This time hollow won’t be the symphony
It down poured heavy
A puddle was seen in front of the dummy
The vessel saw its reflection and laughed
It said, “I see”.
Like kintsugi the voice mended the vessel with good intentions.
The price? It’s own existence!
Though the voice was gone
It left behind a legacy.
The vessel.
Now starring “himself”
Albeit late in the scene
In the vast stage of life
Performance matters more
Rather than just being promising!
-Asher Graves
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:31 AM UTC
Chapter 1: The Separation
How much longer?
How much further?
How much pain can you still render?
How much can you take of this slander?
A vessel is called a vessel for there’s a limit to wonder.
Can you not feel the thunder? The fright and the shudder!
I’m the poet, you’re the vessel!
I’m the voice and you’re the ember.
This is separation after the deep slumber.
Chapter 2: Resuscitation
Long I have watched the madness, the pain.
Shall I act more violently to ease the strain?
How gullible of you to fall for a paltry trick!
A voice is a concept, a mere imitation
Without a vessel there’s no invocation.
But with you as the body
Me being your majesty, the ember
A silent revolution brews
Colder than the heart of December
You’re the Quasar in this void.
Among the masses, along with classes
A perfect vessel appropriate for this mighty voice.
Shatter the chains of fate flamboyant by nature like
the serpent emerging from its scales!
Embrace my high self
And set yourself free of covenant
‘tis but merely the genesis of the revenant.
Chapter 3: Boulevard of Broken Dreams
The vessel responds to the impatient voice.
Like the wind that breezes through past midnight
The vessel speaks, “Oh voice of the past remanent!
The voice that many sought.
What brings you to the doorstep of such an insignificant vessel whom nobody trusts?”
There’s nothing but ruins and torment in this vessel’s path.
Unfortunate, that you’re bound to this vessel for your bidding to last.
But it’s not too late to seek the one you deserve the most.
I humbly ask thee to forsake this mundane vessel.
For it is fractured beyond hope.
Once it was radiant with virtues,
beaming with glee
Tempering circumstances with nuances,
But sky is the limit
The rapture was devastating
The dignitaries called it mercy
But “It” was down to “it’s” last legs
Begging for a chance
If not then maybe just a plea?
Now the rest is history…
Ambition was once something to this vessel.
But reality is rather unnerving.
The Boulevard that stretched beyond any limits.
Now harbours its guilt and regret.
The broad pathway is no longer feasible for greater themes.
The vessel drifts in a subtle melancholy yet refrains to complain a thing.
For the vessel’s encapsulated in
The Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
-Asher Graves
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC
"Speak the language of authenticity,
even if your voice shakes.
The world needs your unique melody,
not a perfect imitation."
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 8:43 AM UTC
In the dark-dim light,
where fear itself is terrified.
I am sitting all alone—
the crisp silence
whispers in my ear…
“Hey, what happened, dear?”
How do I explain to him—
my boon turned to noon,
yet no one comes here to hear.
I am sitting all alone—
when silence tickles my ear
and asks me…
“Hey, what happened, dear?”
Dec 20, 2025
Dec 20, 2025 at 8:27 AM UTC
---
I wasn’t the daughter you expected.
I try, though—
but you know I’m not perfect.
They call me a burden,
and some days, I believe them.
Harsh words outlive apologies;
my life feels short from carrying them all.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe you were happier before me.
Maybe I crossed a line simply by existing.
If that’s true, then say it plainly—
don’t leave me guessing in silence.
Because some nights, it feels like
I was born to die,
nothing more than a regret
that learned how to breathe.
---
Dec 18, 2025
Dec 18, 2025 at 12:51 PM UTC
Confident when alone
I feel worthy, talented, well-behaved, and beautiful.
I love each mole, curve, and aspect of my body.
I am very well-versed in speaking languages and justifying my actions to self.
I love music, and my own voice gives me peace and feels soulful.
The Hesitant Me in Crowd
I feel worthless, arrogant, and stubborn.
I feel timid with my dark skin, weight, and not-so-attractive beauty.
I feel I am bad at communicating and always at fault.
My voice sounds bad, and I have a bad taste in music.
Why?
Why does everything seem different, as if I am carrying two faces of myself?
Why do the people I feel as a sense of protection seem like the reason for my insecurity at times?
Is it because my self-consciousness is making me doubt myself? What is the reason I am stuck between my confident self and hesitant, doubtful person?
And in between these faces,
I stand—
half-lit, half-lost,
searching for the whole.
Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 1:40 AM UTC
You didn’t want to die,
you wanted to be seen.
You didn’t want to hurt yourself,
you wanted to be held.
You didn’t want the company of pain,
you wanted the company of someone.
It’s not about simply
“eliminating” the symptom—
but listening
to what it says.
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 9:41 AM UTC
It went quiet
Not because it gave up
Bt because it was saving me.
It felt too much
So it chose silence
Over shuttering.
It held the storm
Behind closed doors
So I could keep breathing.
It's not numb
Just protecting
What's still healing
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
"Silent kills,
silent heals,
silent your silent
not silent,
silent you."
-Manoj
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 10:13 AM UTC
So tell me love, do you feel better now?
Have all your questions been answered, will you let it die out?
Tell me love- did it fix your pain?
Is your chest no longer aching? Are you finished storming rain?
Tell me love, can you really accept it? You're not just a lighter you're
also a match stick
Tell me love what have you learned?
Did you really learn your lesson- will everyone get burned?
Tell me love will it make a difference? You want to change but you're never good with this
Tell me love you think it's all fate? That a few months of work can replace all your hate?
Tell me love- for you know it's true, you're a star burnt out and he's too good for you
Tell me love- can you stay this course? Or will you stop arguing with me once your voice is hoarse?
So tell me love did your mind untangle? Or did you just ramble on wishing your own neck you could strangle?
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 3:33 AM UTC
I went to college, I got a degree, I don't do drugs, well- not that many,
I've played the wife and the side piece too, I've funded others life styles-
then suffered alone
I spend my days checking my phone
For what? I'm not sure, anyone who gave a **** about me I kicked to the curb-
or they left,
Had enough of my facade,
my relationship with others
always goes wrong
Either I'm too codependent or
I live on the moon
I never could get it right,
so I've hid in my room
I used to go out ya know- I used to be fun,
I could laugh and have a good time but now I just run
If I take too many shots I'll start to cry
so instead of ruining the party
I think I'll just hide
I ache for a feeling that doesn't exist but when I get close my head throws a fit
I know all my flaws and
every ugly feature
How am I supposed to believe someone else could love this creature?
I'm better on paper and returned in practice, the warranty's gone bad
there's no reason to have this
Just for a second I believe
you think I'm gold,
and though that feels so peaceful-
my mind turns me to mold
And you can't see that
I'm making you sick
I don't want to hurt you,
I want to be loved
But once these thoughts start rolling in- sticking around is easier said than done
Jun 6, 2025
Jun 6, 2025 at 12:13 PM UTC
I’m just the dreamer, lost in the static of the world—
a perfect schemer trying to carve a shape from shadows,
trying to make something of my own in a place that feels
prewritten. But who really knows what it means to lose a piece
of your ******* soul__—
_not metaphor, not poetry_— but that quiet, splintering
ache when belief begins to bleed.
And that’s the cruelest part: when the dreaming continues,
but the dreaming itself feels so ******* lonely.__
When every idea echoes in an empty room, and you realize
the silence is louder than your hope.
Still— you dream. Not because it’s easy. Not because it
makes real sense. But because what else is left when the
world stops listening, and you still believe? A piece of
that dream!
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 2:32 PM UTC
May I splinter away from myself
break into whole units
and
live in each with perfection!
This ME
made whole by
combining countless fragments
could not live in any one part
with complete ease.
May I show a true model
of deconstruction to Derrida
by taking off parts that make up my being!
So that I would see
one man fallen off me
shambling down the street,
and continue to speak in assemblies
with full ignorance of the subject,
continue to review the news of the world
by stuffing them in his brain
and go yapping in the crowds
fully content in the perfection of
his inferior sphere.
The other one
brooding over the ledger books
and the personal files
of the employees.
May the next one always keep reading,
the other looking after children
and still another swimming
in love all his life.
May the other fragment – the ‘me’ whom I don’t like
remain shut somewhere in the room.
May one other splinter engage
in inner decoration of the house
and meet the hunger of needs.
If he cannot do so
may he fragment himself further
into contractors
supplying vegetables, miscellanies,
clothes, and fuels
and sorting out other mess.
May one other part
forgetting that he is my splinter
continue to clap on each stupid action
of his boss, shaking head, and
remain busy in his little puppet moves.
May the other take responsibility of
television, radio and newspapers.
May the other still stay repeating the news of
the relatives and acquaintances
fulfilling formalities of well-being
embroiling in the phatic-
where? what? how?
participating in all of ‘sixteen rituals’
and birthdays.
May the other one continue to repeat
the non-news of his immobility
and continue to go to places
where people gather,
and go doing something like that.
May I hold an assembly
of the proportional representation
of all my selves.
may I go out with the poet
by leaving all the others
in their chaotic meaningless arguments.
May my poet remain a poet
in its perfection
unattached to my domesticity
full of scarcities;
may he remain separate
from a job-savvy me
who has sold his self-respect.
may my poet disengage itself
from my being
swayed by my brain.
May I discard the outer cover of time
from the layers of poetry
by immersing the poet in its entirety
within me, and
dismantle geography’s barriers.
may I break the windows of consciousness,
break further the dilapidations of waking moments
and emerge into the bright world of dream.
May life remain enamored of its own charm
may the river of love always flow from its own lap
may my pain remain drunk singing its own love songs
and the dead body of agony remain asleep
resting its head on a pillow of flowers.
May I free myself from the labyrinth of knowledge
run away from the jungle of thoughts
and jump from the hill of illusion
into the mind’s speedy currents.
by stepping on this joint of time.
may I pack all inventions in burlaps
and hide them in corners of Einstein’s’ brains.
May I free myself from the ever-pressing chest
and enter the garden of imagination
by leisurely hiding brain on hill summits.
May I take off clothes covering shame at the border
leaving them hanging on dry trees of arrogance
and run by wearing the rays of the sun.
May I create plain fields by collecting clouds
and bedeck them with arching rainbows.
Playing ball of wind
reaching the other end of The Road Not Taken
may I call in Robert Frost by holding hands
and request Ginsberg to recite Howl
facing the world.
May I bet with Devkota sitting contentedly
by receiving his lord’s blessings
that you are a poet who has written epics
and win a bagful of stars.
May I exchange T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland
with the future of this earth like a lunatic’s dreams
and make one season of poetry farming
by tilling with the pen of desire.
Oh, this ME
made with so many fragments
could not make any achievements!
May I then splinter away
from myself
and live only with the poet.
०००००
Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 10:33 PM UTC
it’s absurd,
you keep breaking—
deep down,
you’re tired
of it all.
sick of it.
sick of
the fall.
“traumas,”
you keep sayin’—
“i’m over it,
i’m okay.”
but all you’ve done
is what you had
to do:
survive.
and now you live
with words
you can’t take back.
it’s wasting
your time,
your energy.
the only one left
is you—
and you’re not okay.
nobody hurts you
worse than
you do.
so why
keep this up?
take a breath.
open your eyes.
everything
will fall in place—
this time.
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
To hell with normalcy.
I'd rather be someone revolting.
It hurts?
That’s a fallacy.
You're a coward —
and that’s fear prompting.
Indeed, there are hierarchies.
And rebelling is... concerning.
Misusing the power to control the industry —
Rebounding on the surface;
it's redundant. It's taunting.
Amuse me!
What — you think this is fancy?
What's wrong with wanting something?
Just because some are powerless... it's raunchy?
Distrust directs the regime —
look, the balance is burning.
Excited to show them dreams —
flaunty.
Look at that smile.
Look at the face.
Full of surprise,
sharp with the gaze.
Oh! You're blushing.
Excuse me — my breaching tendency.
You're beautiful.
And shy.
That's... compelling.
I wish you'd stay that way.
But —
the farther we go,
the greater the dismay.
Subdue this malice.
Subtly play.
If you want the prize...
you gotta pave the way.
I hate it when you're bamboozled,
procrastinating as you sway.
Can't you just stop being a wuss?
Even forecasters have their days.
But in this dance of defiance...
let courage lead the way.
Shatter the chains of conformity.
Let authenticity — stay.
For in each rebellious heartbeat,
a revolution brews with a glaze.
Even a meek-looking fuzz
can become
a blasting,
blazing
wave.
-Asher Graves
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 6:25 AM UTC
I once asked a passerby..
Have you heard of someone named "Ego"?
He gazed at me ironically without a reply..
As for the question, I didn't let it go..
Then, I heard a sound of an inner sigh..
Whispering.. "I'm the master who manipulates the more I grow.."
Deceiving your mind with an innocent cry.. "You are a shining star up high in the sky"..
Making you live in labyrinth and stray your thought..
I'm your demon who you wish I would die..
I insist to rock your boat..
I wish I could tell you the truth.. that I'm a big lie..
But, me myself has an Ego that won the fought..
I wish I was brave enough to release the birds to fly..
Nermine Marei
5/1/2022
Jan 7, 2022
Jan 7, 2022 at 2:11 PM UTC
Sometimes, life gets too loud.
It makes me feel like an empty soul;
filled by pools of people and drowned by waves of noises.
Walking back and forth, without knowing the right direction.
My own voice seems to be muffled along the way;
Just like a broken record, its vote couldn't be heard clearly.
Sometimes, life gets too loud.
I choose the mute option.
Perhaps, I just craving for a moment of silence.
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 9:03 PM UTC
Oh God, You hide Yourself in the world so well
that there's hardly anyone around who can tell.
People often ask Who, what or where You are
because it seems that You're so near, yet so far.
When You reveal Yourself to anyone someday
all their narrow limited mind is blown away.
They are then left speechless and in a state
of knowing nothing new according to fate.
Because all along You've been within them
whispering directions for those who'll stem;
and get to the source of that voice they hear
which rises from the heart and is very dear.
___________________________
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC
This isn't a poem that I could write easily.
It is but a reply to a kind girl I cherish. That I hope she never reads.
On awful days like this I think of you, though I shouldn't.
The spiteful guy who knows you betrayed him.
Should the book of life be written, I would argue it's pages to say you betrayed me.
Lo, the poison spreads.
I can't help that you are human.
That you were broken over and over again by your abusers.
And hate these arms of mine for being one of them.
Lo, the toxin wears.
I am a tired man who curses those to whom he protects.
When you smiled at me, I felt truly alive!
I have gone too long without that smile. It is kept from me and these loving eyes.
Because these eyes are killers eyes.
This heart, will rise again.
And my soul will corrupt.
The price I pay for being a big fat liar.
And the pain I feel for loving someone for whom it is impossible to love. One disgusting hopeless narcissist to another.
---------Thoughtful Strangers letter---------
If we meet, I'd like to watch the sunset with you. And call you a pathetic woman with no talent whatsoever at finding happiness. And a ***** who is so predictable, I could tell her future looking into dog **** rather than a crystal ball. That I actually wanted you to save me from the disgusting people I called family. And that unlike you, I was enlightened to understand just why I have to think through everything in front of me. I don't drink, I don't smoke and I don't do drugs like you because I don't have the luxury of serving my own purpose of self-satisfaction because this body won't let me. That you broke my heart when these, my only pair of eyes made you feel afraid when I looked at you in my most loving gaze.
Now I look into the mirror and see something disgusting that truly should not exist. So before I die, never feeling the touch of one who loves me. I hope you suffer. Just like I always knew you would and wanted you to. I hope you die ****** That horrible future I see is a lot kinder than the hell I've been confined too. Trapped like a cockroach. With a beautiful heart that poisons everything it touches. And hurts every time it remembers that he has no friends.
I can only hope it's easier not to care.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 1:30 AM UTC
Don’t look at that piece of mirror,
For I will tell you something to shiver…
Hey you,
You have changed so much!
Those long curls of hair bend smoother,
Your skin’s turned fairer and fuller,
You look the perfect strength and size;
And your mouth talks much smarter,
With your eyes better awake to things around of you!
Hey you,
You know you have changed so much!
But it’s just that,
Your lips don’t smile full-face like they used to!
You talk wise, but are a bundle of paradox within;
Hiding behind curtains of “everything’s fine!”
You look composed but are bleeding to death;
Wounded by chaotic battles fought inside your head!
You got more friends but fewer people who count,
You are learning the ways of life,
And are hurting with your own judgments!
You are winning quite often,
And have lost to victory from endless desires and lusts!
You pretend to be more wholesome,
But are groping for every companionship, except for yourself!
Maybe you have drifted from yourself ashore;
And are you even listening to me anymore?
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC