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They mistake my softness for weakness,  
Like petals scattered in storms of hurt;  
Not seeing how deep my roots extend  
Through layers of wisdom and lessons learned.  

Each kind word I choose to speak  
Is backed by mountains moved in silence;  
Each tender touch I dare to give  
Springs from battles fought with resilience.  

I've learned that armour weighs down the spirit,
Thorns can wound the hand holding the stem;
While my quiet strength flows like morning light,  
Warming others without consuming them.  

So let them wonder at my gentleness,  
Let them question my peaceful stance;  
Because I have found that mighty rivers  
Flow with grace and not arrogance.  

In a world of sharpened daggers,  
I choose to be the sheltering tree,  
Not because I cannot withstand the storm,  
But because I’ve learned to just simply be.  

My strength lies in understanding  
That my heart does not need to prove,
The power that sustains its caring beat  
And the quiet force that dares to love.  

©️Lizzie Bevis
Maybe I’m too simple
or too shallow
but I’m not angry.
What’s wrong with me?

I was trying to think
of someone I hate,
Jews, CIS guys, republicans,
palestinians, blacks, democrats,
the left handed, authority figures,
central americans, parents, vagrants,
the usual suspects, but I’m coming up empty

Things aren’t perfect
don’t get me wrong
I’ve got a pug nose
a flat chest
a giant forehead
and too much work to do
but I’m trying my best—

Worse yet, I’ve no plummeting anxieties
no obvious neurosis
—that one could be a misdiagnosis
no painful hangnails
no sad life tales
no addictions to defend
or hated ex-boyfriends
I have no emo hooks to pin my verse.
no current melodramas to cozen and coerce
between you and me, I think I’m off the rails
It’s really no wonder my poetry pales.

Yeah, that’s what’s wrong with me.
.
.
Songs for this:
Gee, Doctor by Dimie Cat
Sweet Lovin' (feat. Anna-Luca & Iain Mackenzie) by Club des Belugas
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 01/11/25:
Cozen = to win over, or coax.
  13h Traveler
Nick Moore
Mij was a storm of laughter and defiance,
A stubborn spirit, ever demanding his way,
Yet when the drinks flowed, oh how he shined,
A madcap maestro in the delirium of night.

Johnny Thunders on the speakers,
Hanoi rocks and Lords of the New Church
Echoing through our wild, endless journeys,
Tunes that stitched our misadventures into memory.

He’d promise me refuge in sunlit Greece,
An open door to his scattered sanctuary,
A place I longed to visit,
But lost my courage amidst the clamor of his drinking.

Now, two years on, silence aches where he once roared,
And in the quiet, I feel the bittersweet pull
Of laughter mixed with grief,
Missing the man who was as difficult as he was dearly loved.

In every clink of glass and every chord played,
I hear Mij’s defiant laugh a reminder
That even in chaos and excess,
There was a spark of beauty, a story worth every flawed moment.
Two years since your passing, and I'm only just starting to understand what you were to me.
You’re
like a dream I never
want to wake up from,
And like a book of poetry,
I can’t stop reading your pages.

Impossible it may seems
You’re all
I desire.
  13h Traveler
Prismprone
I always cry, cry every night
You think I'm good, I'm not alright
The good days are about to end
My lifeline is about to bend
I'd be the chill guy, I cannot
This love has made my brain go rot
The void is eating me alive
Nobody'll give me a high-five
Nobody'll say to me "Hello!"
I won't be here, I'll be below
Craziness
There's too much self-assertion

in social media as though the proponents

are coercing readers to agree with them

so that they would feel they are held in appreciation
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