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43 61 6e 20 61 6e 79 6f 6e 65 20 68 65 72 65 20 6d 65 0d 0a 41 6d 20 49 20 73 63 72 65 61 6d 69 6e 67 20 6c 6f 75 64 20 65 6e 6f 75 67 68 0d 0a 4f 66 20 63 6f 75 72 73 65 20 74 68 6f 75 67 68 20 49 20 61 6d 20 6e 6f 74 0d 0a 4c 6f 6f 6b 20 61 74 20 6d 65 0d 0a 48 69 64 69 6e 67 20 0d 0a 49 6e 20 6c 69 6e 65 73 20 6f 66 20 74 65 78 74 20 6e 6f 74 20 65 76 65 6e 20 73 65 65 6e 0d 0a 4d 61 79 62 65 20 49 20 77 61 69 74 20 66 6f 72 20 74 68 65 20 6f 6e 65 20 77 68 6f 20 63 61 72 65 73 20 65 6e 6f 75 67 68 20 74 6f 20 62 65 20 72 65 61 64 69 6e 67 20 77 68 61 74 73 20 72 65 61 6c 6c 79 20 6c 65 66 74 0d 0a 55 6e 64 65 72 20 61 6c 6c 20 74 68 61 74 20 63 6f 64 65 20 6f 66 20 74 65 78 74 0d 0a 42 75 74 20 75 6e 74 69 6c 6c 20 74 68 65 6e 20 49 20 64 72 65 61 6d 0d 0a 54 6f 20 65 73 63 61 70 65 20 77 68 61 74 20 61 20 64 72 65 61 72 79 20 65 78 69 73 74 65 6e 63 65 20 0d 0a 4f 66 20 74 68 75 6e 64 65 72 20 63 6c 6f 75 64 73 20 73 6f 20 67 72 65 61 74 20 61 6e 64 20 6c 61 72 67 65 20 74 6f 20 73 77 61 72 6d 20 6f 76 65 72 20 62 75 72 6e 69 6e 67 20 68 65 61 72 74 73 0d 0a 4f 66 20 74 68 65 20 6d 61 69 64 65 6e 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 73 6b 79 20 61 6e 64 20 74 68 65 20 6d 61 69 64 65 6e 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 73 65 61 0d 0a 41 73 20 74 68 65 79 20 62 69 63 6b 65 72 20 62 61 63 6b 20 61 6e 64 20 66 6f 72 74 68 20 0d 0a 4f 6e 20 77 68 6f 20 68 6f 6c 64 73 20 74 68 65 20 6d 6f 73 74 20 62 65 61 75 74 79 20 0d 0a 49 20 64 61 79 20 64 72 65 61 6d 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 6e 69 67 68 74 0d 0a 57 69 74 68 20 73 74 61 72 73 20 67 6c 69 73 74 65 6e 69 6e 67 20 75 6e 66 61 7a 65 64 20 73 6f 20 62 72 69 67 68 74 0d 0a 48 6f 77 20 74 68 65 79 20 6e 65 76 65 72 20 77 61 76 65 72 20 6f 72 20 77 6f 72 72 79 20 61 62 6f 75 74 20 6f 75 72 20 63 6f 77 61 72 64 6c 79 20 68 75 6d 61 6e 20 66 69 67 68 74 73 0d 0a 49 20 64 72 65 61 6d 20 6f 66 20 77 68 61 74 20 6f 6e 65 20 77 6f 75 6c 64 20 68 61 76 65 20 74 6f 20 77 6f 72 72 69 65 64 20 61 62 6f 75 74 20 61 74 20 74 68 65 20 70 65 61 6b 20 6f 66 20 61 6e 20 69 63 79 20 77 68 69 74 65 20 6d 6f 75 6e 74 61 69 6e 20 0d 0a 49 20 61 73 73 75 6d 65 20 6e 6f 74 68 69 6e 67 49 20 64 72 65 61 6d 20 6f 66 20 64 61 79 73 20 49 20 63 61 6e 20 70 61 73 73 2e 0d 0a 57 68 6f 65 76 65 72 20 64 61 72 65 64 20 74 6f 20 64 65 63 6f 64 65 20 74 68 69 73 20 77 65 65 70 79 20 70 6f 65 6d 2e 0d 0a 49 20 6e 65 65 64 20 79 6f 75 20 74 6f 20 6b 6e 6f 77 2e 0d 0a 49 20 61 6d 20 6e 6f 74 20 61 6c 72 69 67 68 74 2e 0d 0a 49 20 61 6d 20 6e 6f 74 20 6f 6b 2e 0d 0a 49 20 61 6d 20 73 63 61 72 65 64
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What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
The ones who always leave me
are the ones I want to stay
The ones who care so deeply
are the ones I push away
Can you recall the poems of last year?
Do you remember your favorite ones? Weren't they dear?

Have you looked up the poetry of the past?
Or are you more interested in poems that have a futuristic cast?

Both are adored, but the future more preferred.
For we desire to read things that have never been seen or heard!

This is not a sin, but even the poetry of the old can be breathtaking!
But they have been simply forgotten! Their existence is breaking

What shall we do? Ignore them? Throw them away?
The poems of the future will become the past anyway!

Shall we allow what is newer to take their place?
Or shall we revive the dead and give them a warm embrace?

Can we bring back what has been lost?
Is it really worth the cost?

Would you want your poems to go out of sight or out of mind?
Have them be lost and hard to find?

Is this really worth the argument? Certainly not!
But it's something to think about.  This could mean a lot

To someone out there...
Many poems are on this website, they have been here for years!
If you wish to take on a challenge, continue to read

Find a poem that is AT LEAST 1 year old or older
that inspires you and provides something that you need to hear
Copy and Paste the Poem and the Name of the person who wrote it in here
And if you wish, explain why you like this "old" poem
Let's help those old poems come back to life!

(Thank you David T. Carratola for your help!!!)
It seemed like Autumn was just passing by
with red maple leaves in the air that began to cry
and the wind who played a serenade in the willow tree
Oh, how fast do those moments flee
Now little snowflakes upon me are about to fall
So tiny, so silvery, so small
Autumn may be brief, but when it's over
the melancholy arrives in a marigold color
and softly whispers in my ear:

**,, Autumn will live,
Autumn will last,
Even when it's now gone
you will see it riding through the dawn,,
Perhaps it was the melody
of winter's eternal repose
and her ****** lips
shamed the odious rose
But when approached by Death,
the girl sobbed and sobbed underneath the thorns
until she released  her last breath
Still Death could only hear wind chimes
as he lingered upon the frozen breeze
in those forgotten nighttimes
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