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#personalities
everything has changed  and you ?    a stranger for it                    rapid construction with matter   en vogue or on hand          and you flirt thru   a portfolio of guest incarnations                                                           like a japery we experiment with death   when we (breath-catches-breath)        recreate this fast                          and disregard  past experience
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Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
role-play
I don't know what to call this A peom or rambling Maybe more of ranting I wanna be soft and sturdy like... Be strong like... Be compassionate like... Be independent like... Put my foot down like... Be nice like... But he did say I'm unapologetical for who I am Or what I stand for Mostly caught between Being nice and being me Saying no and smiling But I can be both Maybe I am both
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Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 10:29 AM UTC
All the things i want to be
Falling in love; well at least falling for the person- the narrative of our love, a romance narrated from a distance — seen in third person. You’re the third person I find myself whispering, “I love you,” sharing so much about myself, sharing so much that it aches to be so personal. Sometimes my words disappear under your breath; I’m fading away, and not feeling as myself; no longer existing as a person- _impersonal._ I catch glimpses of uncertainty in your eyes, and I sense that my many personalities can be overwhelming- please don’t take it so personal. You sometimes feel diminished in their presence, as if you’re non-personal Yet, as the day draws to a close, my greatest desire remains: to know you deeply and to call you, my person.
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Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 2:54 PM UTC
Person
I found a Broken Piece of a Puzzle And it Fits My Chaos... Perfectly Belonging In my Universe
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Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 11:30 AM UTC
Universe
The universe makes random jokes  Like, to know me is a curse  My personalities make it worse. The introvert in me is ugly painted with gloomy clouds, stalking demons in the alley loves to mourn as a firstborn sick With numb eyes flick, tears don't exist anymore. The extrovert in me is silly painted with colours people never been seen, his smile is flawless and always wander around clueless about why he smiles. The **** in me is a song or people like to call it wrong, a yearlong gong he writes 'lol' in people's wall with a fluffy cloud inside his brain,  it reads tetrahydrocannabinol,  notorious for his vocabulary, can **** with an epistolary. The Dib is a broken rib, spoon-feed bib  He writes out of syllabus with sketchy nib, runs in a solo trip his life says 'rofl'. ©sarcasticbong
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May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 2:08 PM UTC
LIFE-O-ROFL
More of me than one mind. More of me than one heart. More of me than one soul. Less of me, just one part. Love is good.  Love is bad. I can't decide if I'm happy or sad. If there's more of me than one, than perhaps I'm just mad. Crazy to think I could finally find sanity. I lost myself looking.  I'm my own enemy. Who I am now is just a darker version, of the man I once was... Another person. Sometimes I hate you, and others, I don't. I think I love you, but I really don't know.
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Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 10:50 AM UTC
More of Me than One
I've been a combination of many things: Window slats & Roman numerals Door knobs & swimming pools Bulletproof glass & Magic Wand Massagers Bird droppings & ruffled feathers The beginnings of a migraine & a burst of birdsong Alas! My heart was never into it Not one could return me To sinus rhythm
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Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 9:35 AM UTC
Compound Fracture
Who am I today Which personality has emerged from sleeping eyes I don’t recognize this face Or these mannerisms Have I dissociated further Shall I continue down this swirling vortex of psyches How far can I or will I go What evil things have I planned for myself?
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Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 2:42 PM UTC
Self Awareness
clothe      each     self     a      dupe unclear  what we would  portray cling      to      our      cur      beasts zoo             of             personalities and never the funds to feed them
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Nov 24, 2019
Nov 24, 2019 at 3:01 AM UTC
fur
people mold their masks out of fear, fear of rejection in certain groups of friends be yourself or be someone else
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Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 9:42 PM UTC
molding masks
Throughout my life I have made a study of the human soul. I have found there to be broadly 26 categories and accordingly have labelled them alphabetically.... "A" souls, "B" souls, "C" souls... and so on. Each type having their own characteristics. Unsurprisingly the 18th group is the largest.
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Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
Sorted
magnified the power of love is magnified by those who receive it yet some souls that I've talked to have been deprived of this love each breath they take involves a wheeze they cry and ponder life and wonder if there is more than this empty feeling the feeling of sinking and going under holding their breath hoping for relief wishing for the privilege that other people have the privilege to exhale without feeling every emotion spring up without shaking and crying on the floor without wishing for a way out in life there are two kinds of people those who can't exhale and those who can
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Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
EXHALE
Red was shy and serious, had big dreams and ambitions. Millions of thoughts occupied his head, nothing but the best was enough for Red. Yellow was a carefree joker, had a big mouth, trash talker. He was very good at faking confidence, his biggest fear was losing all his friends. Red and Yellow would fight all the time, Red didn't like Yellow being content in life. Afraid that he was jumping without a safety net, Yellow said the challenges would destroy Red. Red and Yellow are vastly different, to each other they are still considerate. Need them both as I walk through life, inch by inch, Hello there, nice to meet you, I am Orange.
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Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC
Story of colors
I hid her in a deep corner of my mind even talked to her all the time I read her books kept her safe until one day she wanted my face I told her “Baby, please don’t despair!” She replied “ it’s not fair! “ I didn’t want anyone to know that she was there
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Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 11:17 PM UTC
It’s Not Fair
Met a Girl, fell in love. Had enough faith, to call her my dove. So it hurt so much, when she kissed another man… I guess this is all just part of God's plan. That was your first mistake, Love isn't real, and neither is heartache, But continue believing, i would love to see your “heartbreak”! Screw relationships, and forget about the give and take! I hate her, and soon, you will too. Just thinking of her, leaves our fists black and blue. But she felt so right, to the point where now everything feels wrong. Our little dove, caught up in another’s birdsong… How can you not tremble when you remember her leaving? Or the way, soon after, we began crying, chest heaving. Your anger is just another form of passion! You did love her, in a fashion! Shut your mouth, that's your fault, you promised it would work out, Talking about women, something you know nothing about. Your a liar, and all you want is to feed your own ego! So, i hope you know you hurt both us and Leo! Sometimes, in love, your bound to get hurt. Not everything is logical, and you can’t always be on high alert. But I love you, Left Brain, with all of my heart. Let’s dust ourselves off, and begin to restart.
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Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC
RIGHT AND Left Brain
So many colors make up our bright mind Only few can be seen by those outside Our colors are wonderful, sweet and kind Others of them are bitter, dark and hide Each is a person hidden within us Who want to be seen as real as we are Sometimes they cry out they scream and they cuss But they are nothing to fear, not by far They are heroes who saved us from our death Came forth from the back to stop the attack They don’t want to wait until our last breath Sure they have problems, but cut them some slack
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Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC
Our Colors
It was faint before but I can hear them now They’re yelling and fighting to vow They had no choice originally in the matter But they’ve taken up their part and chatter They try to work in any way they can They take control and begin to plan Helping us all through methods of coping They give us a reason to continue hoping They know the dangers of the world first-hand Take up their place and together they stand They save us from continued grief They hide the pain and emerge brief No one will mess with us again
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Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 3:13 PM UTC
Together
With every passing of a reflective surface I look for my face in all. Each one unrecognizable Each one undeniably plundering me - My image, my mind Into a frenzy of traumatic shock Because this person, This person travelling in my belongings My effects, Seems to morph and blend in the irises of whoever is seeing me, Of whatever Jasmin their perception manifests From what they know Or have been told, About me; and For whatever thing I may be lacking in grows numerically, The girth swelling and expelling carelessly - Whatever bits don't fit the Jazmynn, or the Lily, or the Gardenia me, But I'm stuck. I'm stuck in my own mind, And my mind holds many eyes Of varying colors and windows, Some sore and some blind - (And) As I walk I rate my reflections, I grade on beauty and demeanor and expression So when the following moment or day arises, I can adopt whichever vision suits best. At some point, I must have put Jasmine on trial, I must have worn her at some time And discarded her just as quickly Because she wasn't as trendy as Lily or Gardenia And the creatures whose eyes I'm borrowing in my mind did not allow me to keep her. But if I (no matter the version) had known, I would not have been able to protect her Or preserve her, Jasmine would not have belonged to me - I would not have known how to convert her and her space in my world Because hers exists only within a frame Possessing a finite amount of eyes and windows; But if Jasmine were looking at me She would see the same - Some, such reflective surface Drunkenly distorting each portrait of what she was supposed to be; Even still, We would not have known to keep each other in mind.
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
Bouquet
With every passing of a reflective surface I look for my face in all. Each one unrecognizable Each one undeniably plundering me - My image, my mind Into a frenzy of traumatic shock Because this person, This person travelling in my belongings My effects, Seems to morph and blend in the irises of whoever is seeing me, Of whatever Jasmin their perception manifests From what they know Or have been told, About me; and For whatever thing I may be lacking in grows numerically, The girth swelling and expelling carelessly - Whatever bits don't fit the Jazmynn, or the Lily, or the Gardenia me, But I'm stuck. I'm stuck in my own mind, And my mind holds many eyes Of varying colors and windows, Some sore and some blind - (And) As I walk I rate my reflections, I grade on beauty and demeanor and expression So when the following moment or day arises, I can adopt whichever vision suits best. At some point, I must have put Jasmine on trial, I must have worn her at some time And discarded her just as quickly Because she wasn't as trendy as Lily or Gardenia And the creatures whose eyes I'm borrowing in my mind did not allow me to keep her. But if I (no matter the version) had known, I would not have been able to protect her Or preserve her, Jasmine would not have belonged to me - I would not have known how to convert her and her space in my world Because hers exists only within a frame Possessing a finite amount of eyes and windows; But if Jasmine were looking at me She would see the same - Some, such reflective surface Drunkenly distorting each portrait of what she was supposed to be; Even still, We would not have known to keep each other in mind.
Continue reading...
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But That’s all you are I scratch the surface To find something I can indulge myself in Something more Deeper, something meaningful I scratch I scratch I scratch That beautiful face It’s beautiful no more
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 5:07 AM UTC
A Beautiful Face
One would opt for Scooby Doo and Agatha Christy The other for cheesy romance Asian dramas and light novels One would rather be building the sets The other, on the stage One cares nothing at all for other’s thoughts The other cares too much One wants to be a police woman The other simply cannot choose It shouldn’t be possible Yet it is And perhaps, it is their extreme differences that bring them together That keeps them from clashing Or, Maybe something in their respective personalities finds solace in the other Whatever the case They are best friends
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
Best Friends