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Buried beneath suffocating feathers, little canary resented flight. The unbearable weight of her wings made her caress despondency. She dared convey her plight to her pretentiously affectionate birth-giver. Expecting solace, she received a ****** as in she augered and died.
0
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 9:43 AM UTC
Wings of Despair
Masked by her glittering eyes I see it.. I see… a glooming past, Sinking in the disguise of relevence… She just losing herself part by part. The anguish, the suffering and the face of fatigue, Professing to be the effigy of power,           Let her be the one she was or Let her be the one she is .… Everything that's gone… Everything that's left, It's her to decide when to RECOVER.
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Feb 19, 2023
Feb 19, 2023 at 11:27 AM UTC
Her
You don't know How desperately I love you But my stimulations drain me Like ************ from the mind. My heart, and my brain The gladiator, and the lion An unstoppable force, an immovable object, The Moon, and the Sun Heaven, and Hell I want so badly for you to understand how desparate I am to love you through my worst nature.
0
Feb 2, 2023
Feb 2, 2023 at 9:02 PM UTC
The Gladiator and The Lion
Would you drink my tears, If I asked you to? And maybe get intoxicated by the salty taste I somehow still find a way to get addicted to? Cause I would, for you. I would fill an entire jar of tears, any size you’d like. Ask me for a bigger one and I’d still find another reason to cry. Could you bottle one for me, too?
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Apr 26, 2022
Apr 26, 2022 at 6:01 AM UTC
would you?
There has always been a lot of different ways to destroy yourself - there's the devotion to something that is not you, the cutting a piece off yourself and putting it in another person; that person becomes positive one and you are left with a gaping hole that misses itself, misses what is used to be. And that hole will never fully fill itself again, you see, no matter how much you stuff it with wool and dirt. There will always be this swallowing-everything-you-see-and-then-spitting-it-out hole. And then you think, what if I completely give myself to others? And then there's chunks of yourself on the floor and you're as much human as your kiddy teddy bear that's been lying in the mud your entire life. And then there's a dead man at your feet.  There's the protective layer - the fake, something that is not you, the stolen artwork that you placed on yourself because you're too ashamed, too scared, to fill the gallery with something that is truly yours. Something that is truly you. You're walking around with a camera in your hand that captures everything at a hands-reach. And then you pretend its your own until you fool yourself enough to finally grab your needles and thread and sew your own initials on the tag. You can stab yourself well enough that they won't recognize you anymore. Take every sharp thing you see, and then jam it straight into where it hurts. But it hurts everywhere, so you keep stabbing, until people come up to you and feel sorry for you. ‘what happened’ they ask. You never know what to answer. ‘What happens next?’ You're afraid now, you're not yourself. I’m sorry, maybe if I rearrange your mirror you will see yourself again, but my knuckles will have to heal first. There’s still blood on them.
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Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 4:27 PM UTC
Mirror stabbing
There has always been a lot of different ways to destroy yourself - there's the devotion to something that is not you, the cutting a piece off yourself and putting it in another person; that person becomes positive one and you are left with a gaping hole that misses itself, misses what is used to be. And that hole will never fully fill itself again, you see, no matter how much you stuff it with wool and dirt. There will always be this swallowing-everything-you-see-and-then-spitting-it-out hole. And then you think, what if I completely give myself to others? And then there's chunks of yourself on the floor and you're as much human as your kiddy teddy bear that's been lying in the mud your entire life. And then there's a dead man at your feet.  There's the protective layer - the fake, something that is not you, the stolen artwork that you placed on yourself because you're too ashamed, too scared, to fill the gallery with something that is truly yours. Something that is truly you. You're walking around with a camera in your hand that captures everything at a hands-reach. And then you pretend its your own until you fool yourself enough to finally grab your needles and thread and sew your own initials on the tag. You can stab yourself well enough that they won't recognize you anymore. Take every sharp thing you see, and then jam it straight into where it hurts. But it hurts everywhere, so you keep stabbing, until people come up to you and feel sorry for you. ‘what happened’ they ask. You never know what to answer. ‘What happens next?’ You're afraid now, you're not yourself. I’m sorry, maybe if I rearrange your mirror you will see yourself again, but my knuckles will have to heal first. There’s still blood on them.
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5
There's a devil in the corner of my room who waits until I fall asleep to kiss my cheek and bid me goodnight. During the day he cannot reach me because he is, as stated previously, a demon, in all its magnificent glory. But he's not bad, not for me. I tell him all my secrets, I tell him of all who looked at me with eyes I can't interpret. I'm trying my best here, and I think this four legged creature is the closest I'll come to being loved.
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Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 1:30 PM UTC
I've been a little lonely lately
In one single night I realized the meaning in which I have been dwelling my entire life to find out the answer to but now I fear that I know too much about what needs to be kept unknown I've been mumbling the words of one thousand dead relatives every second of my life. You can't hear me, neither could I until this one particular night. I found myself on a bike riding south and wondering why I'm here, what made me get here and why am I on a bike and why am I riding south and why am I ten years old I feel like I should be one million I fell asleep and woke up one year older, then I repeated the process and now the candles can't fit on the cake but my blow gets compared to storms I can't keep up and on my death bed I will speak the words of Eve She said, "This life was made for you, are you ready to do it again?" and I replied, "We are the same, you and I"
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Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
Nightcall
my face is an open casket; hear it recite obituaries and watch the mourners cheer and throw wild roses at my feet; it's where the rot has started spreading — like whispers. like applause. rising, until my skin resembles raw obsidians until i am no more. watch me hang from the ropes — in hypnotic grace, like suspended light flying, swaying. a circus freak. a certain state of decay. watch me fall: a weightless, motionless thing in the shadows. a vigil. yet the curtains fall and mourners leave one by one — their wrists, stamped with lilac ink. a vigil. a funeral. a freak show and its curtain call. lay a cloth on this open casket. i do not want to be seen anymore.
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May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 3:32 AM UTC
circus freak
Why should I Hold on to pains And failures of the past? Am I not mama nature's own? Even trees in the fall Let go of their leaves For come spring, Anew chapter shall begin.
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Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 5:29 AM UTC
ASSURANCE
Hymns of chaos are all my vocal chords sang, while the blissful sun approached the morning. All I could feel was ebbing darkness, fading away and carting my hope away with it oh hymns of chaos, sung in sweet harmony ! How your notes blend with the climate of my melancholy!
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Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 3:53 AM UTC
HYMNS OF CHAOS
My life train is passing through, Many stations. I don't know what exactly but they have some kind, Of temptation. May be one of them is, My destination. Regarding my feelings I really have, No explanations.
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Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 2:28 AM UTC
My life train
Name, that one entity; a source of tranquillity? I was asked, under a deep, night sky I named you, I cried to the wind, in front of you, no need of my any ability For the peace lies in the cores of the universe, You still choose an earthly body over the deities godly? I named you, I wrote it on the mesmerizing horizon The sky, the moon, the body you're given, You have no love for the sight that has.... you, imprisoned? His eyes, his body, his shoulders so dear! My sky, my moon, lies there..... my heaven! This world; a battlefield, are you obliged to be a knight? My arms have his power, in him; I find all my survivals The war will end, and you'll lean without an armor, how will you flight? Gian alone.... flies for once in the seasons, let me go back to the grounds of medieval You cling to the thoughts of flaws, the unlawful laws, and.... mere dreams; you draw I name you in the colors, with you.... I draw the utterance of oblivion Would you stop a poet from penning, a painter from painting, and a lover from love, I asked What you show to me, is a truth and not a facade -Zahra Batool ****
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May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 1:12 PM UTC
I named YOU
Concealed in my diary in the form of words my emotions explode inklings of events predicaments conjectured or  sighs of contentment vaguely interpreted lights my soul stagnant but painful glorious yet tearful
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Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
In My Diary
My heart beats a thousand times faster, only for the reason Of you breathing through me. And if it wasn't for you and the kiss of life onto my lips, I would have myself strangled this weak heart and left it to die. So don't ask me why it runs when you put your lips on mine. For your lips are the only thing that has kept me going through these pains.
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May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
She asked Why my heart beats loudly while we kiss.