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Acina Joy Jul 2018
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Sometimes, there is an inner darkness that speaks too close to our hearts. Tempting us. Making us yield.

I know it is bad to bow down to these baser motives. These seductions that occur in the darkness of our beings. But, this all depends on us.

To decide whether or not to fall victim to its height of bliss, or to eventually fall to our knees once these illusions are over. It is my decision whether or not to fulfill this growing void.

My only question is, who would always be foolish to believe that darkness is a monstrous path, rather than a human delusion?


//
Pretty biased on this one, but all I wanted to express was that darkness was something that existed long within man, rather than achieved. I believe it is innate, but not always acted upon. It only needs a push and a nudge to click off the safety pull the trigger. That action in itself is hard to decide, but easy to do, just as evenly as darkness and light.
Acina Joy Jul 2018
Darling, just breathe.
   It still hurts, but you can still feel.
That’s all there is to it.
Acina Joy Jul 2018
There are times when chances should be taken.
Times where these opportunities are seen.
And that's all that life is--always taking.
Always not.
But don't misunderstand.
That just because I hadn't took the chance,
hadn't meant that I had not seen it.
welp, another poem for the night
Acina Joy Jun 2018
i do still care over what they think;
what the demons seem to say
and what my friends seem to say,
and it pains me to even say,
that I do still care.

because when i turn to myself for comfort,
Even I’m not there.
Yeah
Acina Joy Jun 2018
We are like gods,
condemned to fate.
We can like what we do,
We can hate what we can,
and like others, we can
hate who we are.
But the thing is,
we don’t have to.
I’m reading American Gods right now. So far, it completely has my attention.
Acina Joy Jun 2018
And I told him, Ivan, don’t shout.
And he did, and he couldn’t hear me;
he was too busy, leaning over the edge,
teetering on the point of immortality—
on the edge, on the edge, on the edge.
He’s still there.

Then, is it okay to cry enough?
Isn’t it okay to keep helping him?
Or am I too stupid to believe—
“Ivan, please stay. Please don’t go”—
that he would stay, even after I’m gone?

Because, I still cried, even when I left him first.
Because I didn’t want to stay to see him leave me,
and is love okay this way?
Is this what love for me supposed to be?
Am I really that naive to have believed its lies?

I left. But I can’t help but feel that I’m the one who lied.
Don’t ask who Ivan is
Acina Joy Jun 2018
We love, yet we do not feel.
We fall before we break.
This is called a lover's tragedy,
when you do not know what you can take.
this is a different kind of tragedy.
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