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Diya Ganesh Jun 9
Where we live is hell,
up above is heaven,
the place we go when we die,
hell is the place we go if we lie.

My heaven is in his arms,
on earth I remain, his arms bringing the beauty of heaven to me,
a place that takes away all the hurt,
a place I know I don't have to be alert,
keep my walls up high,
cut my wings and be afraid to fly.

Where we live is hell,
torture, day after day, all we feel is pain,
people around us making us go insane,
every path I choose seems to take me down the wrong lane,
all efforts of being heard, being seen, goes in vain.

My heaven is in his eyes,
that sun kissed honey brown eyes,
oh, how warm, how captivating,
the eyes that draw me in,
leaves me in awe,
one look into it and the worlds comes to a standstill,
the world silences and all pain ceases to exist.

Where we live is hell,
when all the world brings you is heartache,
and your heart just breaks,
shattered pieces all over the floor like shards of glass wounding you with every try to pick it up and put it back together,
oh, what more, what more does the world want.

My heaven is in his smile,
his warm, soft smile,
oh, for him I'd walk a mile,
I'd do anything to see him smile,
oh, my one wish, the day I walk down that aisle.

And for me I know he'd pick up those pieces caring less if it hurts him, if he knows it'll take away my pain and make me whole again.
My other half, my home, my everything,
the love we have,
knitting together as one the very souls of us both,
no place for loath, just love, laughter and a life worth living if it's with the other person,
his smile like a light so bright removing darkness from my world, eliminating all things bad,
his smile, a light that guides me through this tunnel of life,
filled with nothing but darkness,
he's my light that shines so bright.

Where we live is hell,
when life gets hard and all that's left to do is cry,
oh, how I wish I could die,
all that's left is dread,
every day I wake up, reality hits, a life dreaded every day,
who wouldn't wish they were dead in such a world of cruelty and misery.

My heaven is in his laugh, in his voice,
my peace, my home, my other half,
a laugh that is so much more, that is music to my ears, a sound I won't ever get tired of listening to, a sound I'd choose to be able to hear if I could only hear one thing for eternity,
so much to calm you down, but for me,
his voice is it for me,
an instant relief when everything around me is too loud, too much, too heavy to carry,
his voice is it for me,
if I couldn't hear anything else let it be,
his voice, his laugh is it for me,
an instant calmness rushing through my body the moment I hear his voice, making every bad day, every sad moment instantly better.

Where we live is hell,
when the world doesn't fail to make me cry, to bring me nothing but pain, to bring me down,
he never fails to make me smile, to keep me sane, to love me through every up or down, to turn every frown to a laugh even on my worst days.

My home, means his arms, his laugh, his smile, his eyes,
because what else feels safer than home in a person you know you can always run too,
someone who proves every day the love they give is true,
a person, my person, a home, my home,
is the person I know I love and loves me too,
the person I know will hold me in his arms and keep me safe from all harm,
my heaven is HIM.
Ariannah 11h
It just so happens for me and you,
To live in the same universe I'm not sure we belong to.
Life's a blessing they all kept saying
In reality my heart kept praying.

The light in me is flickering,
While your presence's only triggering,
Confusion, fear, distress and anger,
Feelings two people in the same universe can't handle.

And I keep wanting to make a change
But it just so happens to make it all more strange,
Almost like a long lost curse
Spelled upon two people in the same universe.
Zywa 2d
I do need to talk

about my grief, he thinks that --


this would be unwise.
Autobiography "In den vreemde - Kronieken" ("In foreign parts - Chronicles", 2024, Frida Vogels), chapter 'De dood van moeder' (Mother's death) - There is a deep chasm between Frida and Ennio, and yet they get married nine months later - Rome, 1957

Collection "Trench Walking"
Sophia 3d
I ooze despair
I leak despiration
it pools at my feet
warns others of the misery
till me soal does leave
my lifeless shell
my sagging skin

I watch you
you leave slowly
inching away
does guilt wrap you?
tether you still
close to me
the pool does drift you anyway
and away you go.
Osaro is in iron prison,
Drowning in deep river of pain,
Seeking for an escape route,
None found.
Can't speak.
But painfully cries at heart,
Thinking of the glue joining him to hot ***.
His sugar cause him this bitter moment.
His joy makes him cry all day.
He gives her milk.
She demands for honey,
Directly from bee,
Good for her system.
He gives her honey.
She demands for sugar,
Sweeter than honey.
Sugary river expands love,
So her love will flow like sweet river.
He gives her sugar.
"No," she says,
She wants the provisions of fruits, juice and food,
So she can be a leaf.
He makes these ready.
She then demands for mansion,
Containing meal and fun.
That will suffice her.
He bond himself (in debt),
And hands her the key
To her mansion,
Beautiful like the garden of Eden.
She says, "No! Why will I be among the least?
I want an estate,
Not small,
But vaster than an empire."
He bonds himself,
Sells his siblings,
Robs,
And sells all his acquaintances.
And buys an estate for her.
Still yet, she envies,
Jealous all day.
Listens to air.
Sees the world (on Instagram).
Though among the top,
She wants to be the very top.
She then demands for the whole world.
Perplexed and Overwhelmed.
Frustrated and swimming in a pool of thought.
Osaro doesn't know what to do.
He is now a bondman.
He gained nothing in all,
And he had lost all.
All works on woman.
No reward, no profit.
His loss is her gain.
In frustration, he brings out a knife,
And hands it to his delight:
"Since I can't satisfy you,
I present my head
As a living sacrifice.
Take it,
And have the whole world."
A powerful narrative poem exploring the destructive cycle of endless desire and self-sacrifice in relationships.

"MR. OSARO" tells the tragic story of a man trapped in an ever-escalating cycle of giving, where no gesture of love is ever enough. Through vivid metaphors and progressive imagery, the poem chronicles Osaro's journey from simple acts of care—offering milk, honey, and sugar—to increasingly desperate sacrifices that consume his entire existence.

The poem serves as a cautionary tale about toxic relationship dynamics, examining themes of:
- Insatiable desire and the impossibility of fulfilling endless demands
- Self-destruction through excessive giving and people-pleasing
- Modern materialism and social media-driven comparisons
- The cost of unconditional sacrifice without reciprocation
- Identity loss in the pursuit of another's happiness

Written in free verse with a haunting progression, the poem builds tension through its escalating demands—from simple provisions to mansions, estates, and ultimately "the whole world." The biblical undertones and sacrificial imagery create a powerful commentary on love, loss, and the human condition.

This piece will resonate with readers who have experienced or witnessed relationships where giving becomes a prison, and love transforms into a burden that ultimately destroys rather than nurtures.

Genre: Contemporary Poetry, Social Commentary, Relationship Drama  
Themes: Love, Sacrifice, Materialism, Identity, Self-Destruction  
Tone: Melancholic, Cautionary, Tragic
Tell me your biggest fears.
I can’t fix them anyway.
Sleep with the lights on,
break the mirror.

Don’t be afraid.
Scars — they don’t fade,
but somehow,
you always look the same.

Tell me to leave,
then pull me back in.

I won’t look back.
Don’t ask me again.
I don’t fetch.
I won’t chase.
Tell me to clean up —
don’t ask me to change.

Haunted by ghosts —
maybe they’ll leave.
The demons ring,
answer the door.
Still cutting up
the line that we walk.

And when you break,
down on the ground,
I’ll stay barefoot
on the cold, messy ground.
Waiting for you.
I’ll pick up the rest.

Leave it right there.
Don’t beg for it back.
Looking for cover
under this glass.

Don’t say it’s alright

when you smile like that.

yeah, I break

just seeing your face.
B
I never wanted to give up on you,
And it was not my plan to be the one who leaves, too.
Months passed, the only dream I hold onto:
That we both chose to change for each other as our invisible string was not meant to snap in two.

To be very well aware of the signs, from the first second,
Convinced myself you were the one, or that was what my thirst reckoned.
My soul still craves for watching eyes made by weeping cherry blossom.
I want us to sit in that park bench we kissed instead of exploding the nuclear weapon.

Yearning for being able to kiss camellia flowers of you made by twain leaves
You said it would be hard for you to leave,
Well, cutting the wire to leave you was also not with ease.
I wonder if you still keep that little keychain bear and my grey beanie,
As I am still dreaming of you, oh why to be two abandonees?
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