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PoserPersona Jul 12
Idly stationed in the bucolic hills,
sits a stone well; unknown when abandoned.
Though her people foregone, water yet fills
as much as you can want for. In tandem,
are high trees less old than she; occluding
the view from pathless and naive strangers.
As their wish in well is to keep obtuse,
those that siren would otherwise capture.
Her drink, one thinks they'll constantly receive.
In reality, they'll only be taken.
Youth will fade as the heart minutely bleeds.
Their hollow, dried corpse will be forsaken.
And though her hole but a tall dark crevice,
I see my reflection on the surface.
MeanAileen Jul 2017
I'm not even sure who I am anymore...
I've become but a shell of myself, before.

And my eyes, once happy, look hollow and cold,
with a empty sadness that can't be consoled.

As loneliness grows, festering inside-
the hurt becomes much harder to hide.
 
Darkness has taken control of my heart...
quietly and completely, I'm falling apart.
 
Gathering shards of my broken soul,
I quickly forget what it is to be whole.
 
Life has lost meaning, but I no longer care.
I'm numb...I'm nothing- just dust in the air.
 
Yet envy eats at me, day and night
for those who exist without this fight.

Impassive I let all hope fade away,
knowing tomorrow will be just like today.
 
I am oh so weary from living as I do-
dear lord, let this end, I beg of you...
No matter how I tweak it, this poem never feels finished to me...
charlie Sep 24
as you gazed upon the roses, beautiful, blooming wide,
exposing themselves for your eyes alone, petals scattered,
you spoke to me. unsatisfied.
strewed their precious worth across the dull pavement,
i began to wonder.
if i truly burst open for you, would i suffer the same fate?
if each of my petals shed away, one by one, revealing a bare stem, would my beauty remain?
every rose wilts with time.

as you looked upon the sunset, magnificent, drooping low,
dipping beneath the horizon with a final display of light, heavens shimmering,
you spoke to me. unaffected.
swiped the bristles of a blackened brush across its fading glow,
i cannot help but wonder.
if i began to fade, would your starlight illuminate my beaten path?
or would you only cast a sheet of unforgiving darkness over my vibrant, faltering hues?
every sunset fades to night.
Go easy on me, if you could.
I'm not a native English speaker, and I sure am not much of a poet.
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