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The strong fight with the weapon of mass destruction.
The smart fight with the weapon of numbers.
The wise fight with the weapon of knowledge.

Which one are you?
Tell me which one you are in the comments below. And as always, Don't forget to tell me what you think!
No.
No, Such a simple word.
Yet, So powerful.
'No, dreams don't come true.'
'No, I want to start a war.'
'No, I won't talk to that person today with depression today.'
Or
'No, dreams do come true.'
'No, I don't want to start a war.'
'No, I will talk to that person with depression today.'
"No"; Like many other words, It is so simple, yet so powerful.
As always, Don't forget to tell me what you think!
#no

You decimate!
Stabbing my core
Now added to
scars from before

Another rip
What’s one more tear?
I do not speak
I'm struck with fear
This is my path
Fate has no choice
I tell myself
With inner voice

She does not hit
There’s no contact
Her weapons, words
A deep impact


With a true strike
Inflicted pain
And damage caused
Sometimes sustained
But very worst
From punch or kick
My body harmed
Can not inflict
The type of wounds
When letters placed
Creating words
My soul disgraced

The fabric stitched
that makes up me
Together holds
my entity


Of essence it
Can penetrate
A wound so deep
That’s it; Checkmate
Forever changing
who I am
So powerful
An altered plan
And bit by bit
it takes away
the strength within
no longer stays
My fading soul
I am no more
I’m just a pet
A "thing" to store


An item
under lock and key
Forever lost
No longer 'me'
Written: June 30, 2018

All rights reserved.
I started smoking again because of you
I tore into the packaging like your teeth tore into my skin
Pressing the cigarette against my lips as if it could ever fill the void your lips left
With shaky hands i fumbled for my lighter
I felt my lungs burn as i inhaled
I choked
Choked like the first time i saw you
Choked like the first time we held hands
Choked like the first time we kissed
Choked like when the first time you said you loved me
Now here i am with menthol on my breath and you on my mind
My lungs burning like my body did, but this time without passion
I knew this cigarette was an act of treason against the body that worked hard to take care of me
But so was loving you
I am in a box.
A box that I am trapped in.
The warm sun does not enter.
I am isolated inside this cold, dark, lonely box.

The weather outside is fine,
With the clouds parting with each other.
The warmth of the sun cannot reach my darkened heart.

The outside is full of people
Who are blissfully unware of my pain.
They don’t know or care that I am trapped inside.

The pain from this loneliness is slowly killing me.
I know I have got to break free,
But I have abandoned all hope.

I reach out for help,
But the bitterness in my soul from being trapped
Repels them away from me.

Until one man offers to help.
Out of bitterness, I demand he leave me.
I have given up on my dream to be free.
I doubt he can help anyway.

To my surprise, he comes back
And offers to help me again.
I tell him that it is impossible
As he struggles to break me free.

Bit by bit he makes little progress.
For the first time in ages,
I feel a small glimmer of hope.
I start to make an effort to break out.

After some time, I finally burst out.
I am finally free.
I thank the man with tears in my eyes.
He rejects the thanks,
Saying that most of the effort came from me.

“I only got you started,” he says
“You freed yourself.”
Please let me know what you think of this poem. The idea came to me when I was trying to help a certain person.
You look into my eyes
and I allow;
Although I know through it
you look at yours;
I'm nothing but an object:
Something to get what you want.
Never the one desired.
At a loss for words,
Beaten up by distractions.
I'm tired but I can't yield;
The world never cared
for unannounced rejects
like me.
The only way I can escape
is to die.
And I can't change my mind.
I'm sorry.
...the one needed.
we all  narrate
our own destinies
smoothing the edges of
dubious memory
so we become hero
or victim, as we see fit

we paint our words with
colour and passion
and make some areas
grey or black
shading the story,
so that our heart remains clean

it is only in the small print
foot notes, that we write
codiciles and retractions
that we give a nod to time

the nebulous truth
obfuscated  by time
and the blurred re-telling
becomes the urban legends
of our minds....

our very own fairy  tales
and once upon a times
seen through the
kaliedescope of fathertime
My brother's and I all remember the legend stories of our youth...differently
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
" My first instinct when I see a cat is to say, "Hello".
My first instinct when I see a person is to avoid eye contact and hope it goes away "

"That's the things about introverts; we wear our chaos on the inside where no one can see it."

" I like cancelled plans. And empty bookstores. I like rainy days and thunderstorms. And quiet coffee shops. I like messy beds and over-worn pajamas. Most of all, I like the small joys that a simple life brings."


I definitely suffer from a form of social anxiety. I tend to keep to myself a lot. The only time I'm at all "outgoing" is around family. I never really understood why that is. I guess you could say I'm afraid of rejection. I find myself an "odd" person and I tend to embarrass myself quite often. I can't retain physical friends. Most of my friends are via social media. Because then, I have the security behind a [computer] screen.
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