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Grim Reaper Sep 2016
Kyun tu acha lagta hai , waqt mila to sochenge

Tujh mein kya kya dekha hai, waqt mila to sochenge

Sara sheher shanasai ka , dawedar to hai lekin

Kon hamara apna hai , waqt mila to sochenge

Hum ne usko likha tha , kuch milne ki tadbeer karo

Us ne likh ker bheja hai , waqt mila to sochenge

Mosam khushbu baad-e-saba chand shafaq aur taron mein

Kon Tumhare jaisa hai ,waqt mila to sochenge

Ya to apne dil ki mano , ya phir duniya walon ki

Mashwara uska acha hai ,waqt mila to sochenge

Kyun tu acha lagta hai , waqt mila to sochenge
Ultimate poetry by Attaullah Khan.  Waqt mila to sochenge..

Video Link:  http://goo.gl/jVSwWC
Safana Jun 2020
Can da dare na dare
Bisa dereren dara
Yara yan tare taron
Tattara taurar tata
Na takura turmin
Tura turakar tunkura

Kunyar kunya na
Tunkuya tukar tuka
Tukwanen kwaba
Kwafar kololon
Kwakwule kwacen
Kwakwa na kwakwula

Hausa ba dabo ba
Hausa, a mother 👅
Hollis Feb 2020
Dear Elliana,
Your long, blonde hair is woven between the veins of my hearts which I do not love but can’t throw out
What can I say? I’m sentimental
Even though I have deleted every fragrance and reminder of you, the world still sees you before they see me
I still have a lot of your old makeup
The fear of wearing it brings a stomach ache
I liked your eyeliner though
You had good taste
I get told I looked better as you by family whose eyes see only your pronouns instead of mine
I am gifted dresses still in your name, and I throw them out immediately
They want you back but **** those poeple because they never even knew you
Dear Elliana,
I am sorry I had to **** you in my memories
I never imagined you would be a bad thing
A lot of my new friends don’t know you
Dear Elliana,
I am sorry I am shattering the mirror of your body
I want to sell your hips, gift your ******* to someone who wants them
I was born and you didn’t hurt yourself anymore
You force yourself out of my lips in a guilty conscience every time I see you in another’s eyes
Dear Elliana,
I remember when you met me
It was the year you turned thirteen
It was the first time you said out loud that you didn't want to live anymore
In therapy you said you wouldn't make it to 19
On my 19th birthday I thought about you
You were right
I've been trying to write this letter for 6 months
I still can't decide if it should be an apology or not
But now you will never hear "Elliana ***" announced at a college graduation,
Get married, give birth
Dear Elliana,
I start testosterone in two weeks
I know what will happen when it starts taking effect
My body will stop being able to produce the potential for new life every month
I thought about your children, how I wanted them too
You will never be a grandparent
I’m sorry
You will never hold your lover’s sleeping figure
I’m sorry
You will never hear “Mommy! Watch me on the slide!”
I’m sorry
The child you saw in your dreams will never wrap their arms around your legs for comfort
I am sorry
The testosterone will come and you will become a memory I wish to forget
I am sorry
I apologize for the people who see me as a mistake, as something disgusting
I ask myself:
Am I a mistake?
Am I disgusting?
No, I don’t think so anymore
Dear Elliana,
You had a place
Never forget that
You still do
Just not the way you planned
Yours, Taron
P.S I never hated you
Even though sometimes I wish I could
P.P.S
The one thing we both hated will soon be gone
I soon say goodbye to your cheeks!
Hollis Jul 2020
I was born on December 19th at about 11:43 pm.
I've never been able to tell if I'm being insulted or complimented.
I can get away with blaming my indecisiveness on being me.
I'm 5'5. I weigh who knows how much.
I'm scared of my mom.
I'm a real sucker for people with dimples and comfy leggings with giant pockets.
I can't drive.
I like iced coffee and writing poetry more than the oxygen I need to survive.
I have strange fascinations with things like ratted, old Converse and the shape of my self-made scars.
They remind me that everything is temporary, but the pain stays.
I assume this is why I'm obsessed with drawing my scars as different things: stars, trees, a new poem.
I watch the sunset from a hammock every night.
Sometimes, I ask myself why so much of my time is invested in things that are only temporary and hope they come back.
I'm afraid of heights but not falling and I often wonder if I would survive stepping off a cliff's edge.
I also wonder what my clothes whisper about me now that I've left the closet.
I spent so long hiding amongst the skeletons that hung there that I'm not sure how to appear alive anymore.
I get called a number of things, both good and bad, but my name is Taron.
I'm clumsy.
I don't laugh easily.
I enjoy Korean music and strawberry yogurt.
My hobbies include avoiding love, vandalizing people's thoughts with my anxiety, and coming up with masks, I mean metaphors.
I have 1,154 followers on Twitter.
I can't think of anything to say to them that actually matters.
I knew that, right now, I am in both heaven and hell.
I know that Google shows 2.8 million results how to tie a nose for hanging yourself.
I know that I haven't become anything yet but i have an entire box of unfinished poems.
This is only a draft copy of myself.
I am not done writing just yet.

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