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alia Jun 29
It wasn’t fireworks,
or some big spark.
It was the way you spoke,
calm and low,
and suddenly,
I couldn’t imagine
quiet
without you in it.
heh 😏
  Jun 28 alia
Rachel
I am not talented
And I refuse to believe that
I am
I realize this might be a shock, but
Talented,
Is a lie
I am not good enough
In 30 years, I will tell my children that
I have my priorities straight because
Perfect
Is more important than
Trying
I tell you this:
Once upon a time
I tried my best
But this will not be true in my era
Perfect is right
Experts tell me
Perfect is better than trying
I do not conclude that
Trying is more important
In the future,
I will be better than no one
No longer can it be said that
I have talent
It will be evident that
I will never be correct
It is foolish to presume that
I am talented
And all of this will come true unless we reverse it
After reading it top to bottom, read from the bottom line by line.
  Jun 28 alia
Khadi Alza
The fact
That every single one of us here
Has our own

C
     o
        m
             p
                 i
                     l
                          i
                               c
                                     a
                                           t
                                                e
             ­                                          d  


lives, thoughts, ideas, experiences.

And that everyone here is just a stranger—
NPCs in our lives.
The only person who feels real is you.
You can never be in their shoes. Never.

But still, their life is as complicated as yours:
As vivid.
As complex.
As challenging.

All those people we pass by,
Their lives a colourful, multicoloured thread,
Woven together—
Yet it doesn’t seem so...
( 𝖓. ) 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖟𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖘 𝖛𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖝 𝖆𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓
  Jun 28 alia
Khadi Alza
always the poet,
      never the poem.

always the writer,
   never the story.

always the photographer,
   never the picture.

always the dreamer,
   never the dream.

for once...
                  could i be the muse?

the one in the photo,
                                     the poem,
                                                       the story,
                                                          ­              the dream.
or at
         least
                  the
                        inspiration.
­the one
              that
                      would
                                   be held
                                                 in
                                                      memory.
  Jun 28 alia
andy fardell
One day I'll be gone
Only a fading memory to a few
Curling old pictures etching out the past
One day

Some will remember a smile
A funny walk
Hairy ears and brows in curlers
One day

You'll pick up the phone
Call me
Remember I'm no longer here
One day

So let's make the most
Do the hugs
Eat the cake cos
One day
alia Jun 28
Oh, how I wish
to be like everyone else—
to still have their dad around,
to laugh with him,
argue,
make memories.

Mine left too soon.
I was too small
to even hold onto a moment,
let alone a memory..

Sometimes I watch them,
joking with their fathers,
rolling their eyes,
not realising how lucky they are..

And I just wish
I had that too.
But God had other plans,
and gave him peace
somewhere safer.

Still, it hurts—
knowing I’ll never get
the kind of moments
people take for granted.
(;
alia Jun 25
I’ve always wondered—
if I spoke more,
smiled more,
would I still seem scary?

Would my words
come out soft,
or sharp like they imagine?

Even I don’t know
why I wear this face.
Maybe I’ve forgotten
how to take it off.

Or maybe,
I’m just afraid
you won’t like
what’s underneath.
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