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DEAR PENPPAL PEOPLE, normally I'd leave the leaf to the breeze....let the breeze know that IT I CAN SEE.

If you'd know me
you'd know my eyes won't deceive
If you'd know me
you'd know my mouth won't retrieve
If you'd know me
you'd know sun, moon, & leaf
If you'd know me
you'd know how much I'd grieve
& that's the problem of knowing me
it's always trying & trying
& trying to understand
something that my words,
sometimes my look
would silently demand
trying to understand
does the amount of
concern come from
so that the grief grieves & becomes
something of a demeanor
trying to keep other people's reflections
in my memory a print
something of their unbeknownst complaints
they don't know
about any of that
their oblivion makes them
make less of themselves
themselves in their mouths to churn
making less of my mind out again
in return
yet they do sense of me doing it
but doing what exactly?
they'll never know
but they'll keep on trying
trying to know
so only if they'd known me
only would they might
might get a little stolen steel
a little insight
all in all
they'd never reach me
they'll never find
I prefer to watch the leaf fall

                                                           ­                                 ------ravenfeels
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, 25-X-'23__5:01<=

Interesting to know
Not necessarily to show:

The human essence
Is an octavian star
Branching upon its definitive
One which we proudly
Ignore the infinite's branching
In its shadow we linger
Finitely standing
Lingering as if we know
What color it beholds
Some decorative spectrum it loathes
To be blinded by white shadow
Of the branched light
Adjacent below
So what we know
Is one of a show
In which we name
In which we smoke
The shadow we bathe
The shadow we soak
The grave we dig
the grave we loathe
Call the barrier danger zone
Call the barrier freezing snow
Explain to me
Define your thoughts
Define a territory you claim you bought
Who am I even to sought; (?)
Display your colors
Display your coats
Calling ashes your most trusted troops
Hiding under those seven loops

Raven Feels Nov 27
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, So under whose name-?

When I think about
the fade of things, except for the memories
their sound
I have a contingent downfall of blood
rushing to my neck
to the back of it, it rounds
because if memories shall win
this time also, anytime soon
who shall they belong to?
I'm realizing they were never mine
to start with
& not even anyone's
who was within
So under whose name will the memories of the now,
be labeled with?

I used to talk
knowing that the echo would be swallowed
into throats of crowds
from near or from far: It wouldn't matter
now I talk
the echo comes back to me
no throat to swallow it
it superfluously circulates
drawing a chuckle
to the insides of my cheek
thinking it's a trick
of a distorted reality: It matters at the end of it all
-whose name-?

don't be deceived
it doesn't reach
the ultimate preach
they pass me the pen
they pass me the word
they pass me the salt
& I shall receive
for the reach itself
to be thrown
minding its business
its essence thought to be drawn
afraid to break it to you
it didn't even make it till dawn

                                                   ­                                        ------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Nov 27

my anger goes to the step further
of the suffering
than the one before
I'd like the option, you know?
even if I'd still be
in the midst of it all
So, what about the other lingering side?
the one that sits in the corner
by the telephone
I won't approach it
still what if I'd be--
forget that
I think I'd see
the withdrawal seep into me
but a time I've reached
where it's a challenge
to me
then again by me
the joke is even if the other option
which I don't even know what kind of option
of who I am pertaining to both ends
sits in the corner
shall it challenge me once more
I shall challenge it again
& again
& again
& that is where
my heart
the condolences
it sends

Raven Feels Nov 27
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, honestly----:

I am taken back
by my own image
being accessible to the world
I forget people's expression
still I know how to read it so well
I forget my own expression
still it is one in my mind a print
I dwell
to cough it out
***** the drought
I shall not speak of the walls, to add
they shudder into
in a concave shape
they remind me of their inconsequential stay
& to their mercy I am doomed
Do you even have a clue?
Do I even know to whom?
Am I talking-(?)
Am I walking-(?)
I despise---
No cross that: Backspace
I am tired of searching
in disarray
in dull dead eyes
thinking I'll find my reflection
in people barely living through
Honestly, I must say
I'd rather not know what to do
Raven Feels Oct 13

I suggest
a humble
of a mere suggestion
for us to come
to stop
to deny learning about
the disgusting
magnificence of power
because if we do
we'll float under it
not within it
so let's just not
already we lack the plot
because we are nowhere
we're not even close
TO it

                                                      ­                                       ------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Oct 13
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the golden: (every word meant)

ONE more year
couldn't he?
is 3sixty five days a bit too much to ask?
the moment of leave
the moment that actually defied MATH
ONE of the all left & gone
Do you know what that even means?
my idea of the improvised life
would've taken another 'responsibility'
would've been revived
ONE that would break
the ONE distorted continuity
And I'm NOT
no I'm NOT
NOT talking
Oh no I'm NOT
talking about some lost lover
what it means is even worse
NOT talking about a parent
nor a Mother
I'm talking about my idol person
my life's mentor
a teacher person
a friend human
I told him:
'you inspire us more than you think'
he laughed it off;
knowingly to its mean
into the blink
of which I always think
he knew
he had to leave again
Again to leave
don't get me wrong
I'm proud you see
but again
To Leave
The left
is our bodies
of 6ix, 7even, & 8ight
scattered ahead
heads nodding
that's all we've ever known
to the SECOND CITY we reached a fail
because To the reached
to be reached
is a long gone ship sailed
And my old self reads a paper
for some advise to be 'preached'
erasing the once To be reached
the ONEs ought to the golden trumpet's week?
I am weak
define my feels
I don't want to seem
TO BE nagging
but please tell me
the ONEs when you have to press ******* DELETE?
that I've had to thrown in a matter
of ONE alone sick year?
Again to fly
To look up to the SKY
after ONE meet's high
on a February's lie
upon the April's subside
& ONE which June
Dreams get lost
Dreams get crashed
Hearts get broken
Hearts backlash
Reality seeps in
Reality back stabs
I know no control
talk to me
about a stash
about a future
a plasticity
one which I refuse to be
yet I see you
you see
we observe each other
our harmony
long time
in no see
my humor withdraws
the purple room
haunts me
wooden blocks
me & the latter
our intermediate selves
cleaning tables
we ate on
we gathered
I'd like back my FEELS
of the previous
one, twos, & threes
tea 56 times a day
I drink
I swallow
violins know how to play
sad feels on display
follow your follow
out of my head
out of my lane
out of bed
to the shadow in the wall
I kinda pray
don't wait for us
don't wait for ME
I suggest we continue
my friend
acting that way
(you see)

                                                          ­                                  ------ravenfeels
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