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#tb
Hope is drying up Like a Well dries after the monsoon, Sitting in this room, alone and aloof, I have counted the stains on the wall, None of it is more prominent than the One I have with me, I'm a social pariah, like an untouchable, polluted with death; Run, Run away from me, I hold death in my lungs.
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Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 2:41 PM UTC
Tuberculosis
Hope is drying up Like a Well dries after the monsoon, Sitting in this room, alone and aloof, I have counted the stains on the wall, None of it is more prominent than the One I have with me, I'm a social pariah, like an untouchable, polluted with death; Run, Run away from me, I hold death in my lungs.
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Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 4:08 PM UTC
Tuberculosis
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A demeanour equable to viridity, The nascence of a lamb. The supposed handsel from the welkin! Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A swaying of a quixotic mind, The dance from the societal crwth; The derogation of the lamb via gibes. Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A continual lampoon – The spawn of a chapfallen eagle. The brainchild of a timorous creature. Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A diagnosis of a bird in incommunicado with flight; A late palpation, albeit. The societal routine…
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Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens...
As a child, I would write letters. No, I have never been a romantic, just a rather diplomatic child. I would write letters of negotiation to a friend of mine, burn them, and let the ashes be a legible phoenix to him. As a child, I grew up writing letters. I stopped believing in the existence of phoenixes. Either that or my friend wasn’t really a fan of one. He was way older than I’d ever be, so I was sure it wasn’t a change of taste. It was rumoured that he preferred the savour of sconces, so I kept burning my letters. As a child, I wrote letters in desperation. I learnt the fine line between a negotiation and a plea. I pleaded…I pleaded a lot in my letters. Do you think dried tears on paper burn too? I think my friend thought it insufficient. Either that or salt water becomes invincible above the clouds. As a child, I wrote letters. I wrote lots of letters. I wrote letters to the only one I was sure would write back in some way. I think burning those letters wasn’t such a good idea, it made him unable to read them. Either that or he forgot changing mails was supposed to be a colloquy. He’s my friend, right? He’d have replied if he really did see them…right? As a child, I did write letters. Then I stopped. Then, then I never wrote them again until I was forced to for grades’ sake. They are the only letters I can say I got replies to. Only difference was, for some reason, each one I wrote came back with the marks of a red pen and a word beneath it all.
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Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:37 PM UTC
The Regurgitation
As a child, I would write letters. No, I have never been a romantic, just a rather diplomatic child. I would write letters of negotiation to a friend of mine, burn them, and let the ashes be a legible phoenix to him. As a child, I grew up writing letters. I stopped believing in the existence of phoenixes. Either that or my friend wasn’t really a fan of one. He was way older than I’d ever be, so I was sure it wasn’t a change of taste. It was rumoured that he preferred the savour of sconces, so I kept burning my letters. As a child, I wrote letters in desperation. I learnt the fine line between a negotiation and a plea. I pleaded…I pleaded a lot in my letters. Do you think dried tears on paper burn too? I think my friend thought it insufficient. Either that or salt water becomes invincible above the clouds. As a child, I wrote letters. I wrote lots of letters. I wrote letters to the only one I was sure would write back in some way. I think burning those letters wasn’t such a good idea, it made him unable to read them. Either that or he forgot changing mails was supposed to be a colloquy. He’s my friend, right? He’d have replied if he really did see them…right? As a child, I did write letters. Then I stopped. Then, then I never wrote them again until I was forced to for grades’ sake. They are the only letters I can say I got replies to. Only difference was, for some reason, each one I wrote came back with the marks of a red pen and a word beneath it all.
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My tuberculosis infected heart spits blood and stays away from light lives in humidity causing fungus growing In my inside. My tb infected heart caughs from all its holes at night it never sleeps nevear eats it's lost it's appetite for people and joy and laughs My tb infected heart will die soaked in smoke they'll burn its bed, its clothes every crumble of feelings and I will be left naked with blood stains on my skin My tb infected heart lives in isolation between walls of mirrors reflecting the misery of my mind It lives in fear and shame hungrily waiting for death to come for them to burn its bed.
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
tuberculosis
I want to drive But to where? I want to travel But to whom? I want to fight But for what? Without a dream my wants are empty. Without a purpose my needs are superficial. How do I choose a path if I don't know the destination? Am I empty in a good or bad way? T.B. Wayne
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Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
Lost Dreams
I'm just so sad right now I don't know if it's just momentarily Or a general sadness about my life I think it's the second one this time I mean I've had a lot of "sad moments" before But none of them felt as real as this one This time it's different I am generally disappointed In how I am living my life Do I have a choice though? This is my life I did not ask for it Nor do I control what happens in it So, yeah I'm just going to continue loathing my life And being helpless about it
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Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
Sad
Separated by two lives Two different realities The material world And the world of inner peace I have felt that moment of clarity Where all is right in the world, I have felt the pain of desire The pain of one million heart breaks. I want to be with my family But this life is killing me, I don't want to wake up To this dismal reality. I want to live a solitary life One of much self love With a calm and simple mind To get me through the day. I find it hard to be The true and lovely me Especially when I'm told Who and how to be I am torn between the paths, These hard paths of love One walk is very steep And always filled with mud The other is more uncertain, Is it a path at all? My fate is undecided My destiny will soon call, Maybe I will leave Maybe I will stay, I will take this journey slow For my path ends bitterly every way. T.B. Wayne
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
The Path
The sky seems so dark The moon seems so dim The rain falls heavy, On my tattered skin. My eyes grow gloomy I’m shy like the sun I am never warm anymore My day has just not come. The sky does not open The stars do not come out to play There is no twinkle in my eye Like lovers who’ve met that day. One day I thought it was over, The next I tried to begin, Life seemed to ignore what I wanted And I ignored every win. I gradually woke up, And decided to be happy, Not because the world allowed it But because I wanted to be free. Free from some idea That the world owed me Free from all the pain, That stopped me from being free. When I walked outside, Like any other day, The sun did not shine, But the rain came my way, And even in that dark sky And in the midst of pouring rain, I began to smile, And I never felt the same. T.B. Wayne
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Today
I could write a million songs About the color of your eyes, I could write a million poems About the softness of your hands, I could sing forever about your beauty, And it will never be enough. I could just look at your face And know the world is going to be all right. I could touch your arm And calm your heart down to a beat, I could laugh for years upon end, Just in hopes of seeing your smile. For every tear I shed on a lonely night, I pray you lay there next to me. If love is what I have You will never have as much for me. But if I should die And your world would fall apart, I would force God to return my life, Just to love you one more day. But as I sit here, With you not in sight I wonder can I live Without you in my life. T.B. Wayne
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
My Downfall
Loneliness Do you really know the meaning of it? I know how it feels to feel lonely in a group of people That ******* cliché definition But don't for once ******* say you know how it feels Because I know how it feels To be stuck on the bathroom floor No one to even call in to check up on me No one to feel loved by Not knowing there is someone Waiting for me in 4 months Don't ever for once think that that is a short time A day was enough to set me off 4 months left me dead With the memories of dark times I will never forget Times like those ******* make me grateful Appreciative for the ones who even want to go out with me The tiny acts So don't ******* think for once that you know how it ever felt To be truly ******* lonely To know that no one cared
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
Definition: Loneliness
I can’t express these words of love or embrace the somber sounds of denial, But if I should wake and our world is through Know on my back I will carry you. When all that we know fades away I hope you realize the love that was made. I hope you see love in the stars I hope you can love who you are. I cannot protect you forever, my love But know that at the end, I call for you; And if we should die so steady and fast Know that our love will eternally last I have no doubt that our love lives eternally But I’m staring right at you and you can’t embrace me, So is it love at all if it’s never alive? Does it take life for love to die T.B. Wayne
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
Untitled
The sun reflects off the water While the rain ripples on the surface What is the difference between the two? When the rain stops the sun will shine When the rain conquers the sun will hide The river does not know the difference. The water only ripples when it rains The water shines only with the sun It knows the sun will always be there It knows the rain will always come. When all is absent the water is calm, ever so calm T.B. Wayne
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
The River