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To be a star,
you must burn.

To be a flower,
you must blossom.

To be art,
you must be created.

To be music,
you must be played.

To be a river,
you must flow.

But to be a lover,
you may not be loved.
I think love should never be conditional...

I’m not perfect, and maybe I’m the most complicated and imperfect girl.
Anddd... a lot of people dislike me and give sarcastic comment for that, buttttt.... my parents and siblings love me unconditionally <3...I thank God every day for it.
It's not about quantity of people, but quality of love, for me..... hehehe..... :)

Remember,
You are never alone; there’s always someone with you.
Maybe it’s just you who are too focused on what's in front of you and haven’t noticed the one standing beside you.
I feel so small,
yet so do the stars,
when seen from afar,
they shine through the scars.
And now I feel better.....
Poem

This is a poem
This is the second line of the poem
Poem
this is a poem i wrote in year 8
Turns out they were right
all the glitter
is not always gold
that some truths are better not told
that bad things
are more complex
then we think
that truth are more complex
that not everything is black and gray
that truth can be twisted
I give up
nothing I can do
the truth is twisted
and hate to tell you
that the truth
I saw myself die
In the way that you want her.
When I thought that I had you,
I was suffocating.
If I stayed and waited
And gave and pretended,
I made believe you would come to me.
But I want to be wanted.
All I was
Was used.
A tool, for now.
But nothing mattered.
She gets your heartache
And she gets your longing,
Your reverence, and sweetness.
I didn't know what I was missing.
I didn't know what was possible
Until I saw you in her arms.
I want to be wanted.
I fell for my own illusions
And let myself think
That right now was enough,
When what I wanted was forever.
What I wanted was a partner.
I want to be wanted,
But you don't want me.
 1d Georgia
Phia
To be loved is to be seen
And I never realized just how invisible I felt
Until you came along
And saw me in full color
Woke up feeling kinda good today,
Actually got out of bed on the first try.
Not every day has to be a struggle, right?
Thinking maybe things are finally looking up.

Took a walk, breathed in the fresh air,
Oh man, even my coffee tasted better.

Don’t know why, but I laughed for no reason,
I guess this is what normal feels like.
Everything’s fine. Totally fine.
Everything’s great, really. Just a few letters here and there  spelling something else…telling a different story... but it’s fine. Nothing to see here.
.
.
.
.
//hint - maybe look up the first letters of each sentence
Too high to feel
But high enough to feel the breeze
Blazing lights echo through the midnight sky
Mist mixed with rain
Your shadow becomes mine
Too high to fall safely
But high enough to fall in love
My words will guide us
But my actions will take us
Through midnight skies
And bright happy days
Stained are teeth, and fingers yellow,
Softly whispered lies we keep.
Smoke unfurls in breath so mellow,
Promising but sinking deep.

Coiling tendrils, soft and clever,
Lull the mind in fleeting grace.
Cinder ghosts that warm, yet sever,
Leave their embers on the face.

Every spark—a pledge unwinding,
Every drag—a weight we bear.
Sworn to comfort, yet confining,
Clinging to a thinning air.
Nicotine is a tightly structured, lyrical poem that explores the tension between fleeting comforts and the greater aspirations we often neglect. Using nicotine as both a literal and metaphorical device, the poem examines the small indulgences we cling to—despite knowing their cost—drawing a parallel to the broader human tendency to accept self-deception for the sake of temporary relief.

Through vivid imagery of smoke, stained fingers, and fading embers, the poem evokes a sense of quiet resignation, underscoring the slow erosion of will beneath a comforting but insidious habit. The rhythmic AB meter reinforces the hypnotic cycle of desire and consequence, mirroring the way these comforts lull us into complacency.

At its core, Nicotine is a confrontation—a mirror held up to our daily rationalizations, asking whether we truly seek change or merely the illusion of control. The introspective tone invites readers to reflect on their own vices, however small, and consider what they may be sacrificing in the name of fleeting ease.
 1d Georgia
Phia
The first time I met you,
it wasn’t love at first sight.
Instead,
it was a slow melody,
building to the most earth shattering crescendo.

— The End —