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Be careful who you trust
Nothing more deadly
Than good intentions
Dipped in blindness
Nothing more dangerous than
Care without wisdom

The evil intent hides within the platitudes of the unaware
It hides like lions
Secretly in long grass
The archetypal wolf
In sheep’s clothing

They prey on your weakness
Their favourite victims
Are the young
The silent assassin
Predators creeping through the night
They Stealthily stalk your soul

The thief slowly strangling you whole
They seek to carve your soul
With knives like butchers
Hidden in friendly gestures

With the soft threads
Of a spider’s lair
They build a sticky prison
Laced with poetic thorn

The worst of all
They ask
Abandoned self
And we will love you more

As weak men
Love to shepherd
The strong
To quench their unconscious jealous

As some people wish to steer your choices
Because you trigger their own
As sme people wish to crush your ambition
Because they buried their own
A conqueror's hidden fear

But let your inner guide shine
Let the Lord God guide us home
To a promised land
Where there's no
Guilt, fear, or shame

As I push back
Not to hate
But to love
Love for self
As my soul whispers
With a silent growl
NO

A deadly stare
That can see into night
I pierce falsehood with soft glare
Not to fright
But to say I am here

Like a leopards spots
The more they rub
The more I shine
As I stand in truth
My real
Authentic self
This poem describes one person's journey through external imposed confusion, manipulation, and presure to reclaiming their authentic self.
when emotion arises
his brow wrinkles
creating a dozen furrows
across his forehead
as waterworks
in a gravitational pull
fall to the left
onto the
eastern side
of his face
down his neck tendons,
half-way over his left clavicle
down into his heart

he’s so that there

his tears they flow

and they flow

and they flow

and they flow



~ pekaplan, 2025
What if I loved you deeply
Just the way I am,
What if we opted out
Of this program?

What if I created
With only you in mind
And you and I excised
delicately
a life of our design?

Will you still love me,
In my real voice
In this body
With this mind
In this our only lifetime?
Natalie Jun 17
Suddenly
It's spring again
And I love the way living
Doesn't feel like
A neverending surgery
On myself

You say I am not a project
Am not made of wood and metal
Held together by disappointment
And "Better next time"'s
With smiles splayed on my face
But winter in my heart

Suddenly
My feet are miniscule
They are tiny tiny things
And I know that's alright
After all
They are made to be held,
Are meant to walk tiny tiny steps
Right next you
They will keep up
Because you won't walk away.

"You are enough"
For me
Is the most beautiful confession I have ever received
It means my teeth can stay
It means you will stay
Even if I carefully scrape the smile of my face
Summer is on the way
I met someone who saves - and He changed everything.
Cynthia Feb 21
If you cut open my arm,
I would bleed out poetry.
Lines of sacred poems from authors such as Bukowski, Maya Angelou, Mary Oliver.

I am a poem.
I like to think of my life that way.
Romanticizing it
makes it a little more bearable.

Maybe it’s easier to
articulate my thoughts,
when it rhymes.

It’s easier to express myself
in vague terms
and mysterious stories.

Poetry is my favorite dead language.
Rarely seen nowadays,
yet still stays so beautiful.

Exotic in its nature,
but exquisite in it’s simplicity.

It explains my most vigorous notions into gentle and sweet words.
Music to my ears.

My writings of poetry feels like
saying sorry before I threw the rock.
Kissing before stabbing.

My poetry is raw
and unfiltered.
A gentle ray of sunshine,
that also burns at the touch.
Yet you can’t move because it’s so entrancing,
you know it doesn’t mean to hurt you
it just does.
A kind of unintentional love bomb.

My poetry is a reflection of who I am,
my aspirations and goals.
Struggles and flaws,
challenges and obstacles,
but also my good moments.
Where I truly feel alive.

It’s also a reflection of others through me.
My parents and family.
Famous poets, authors, musicians.
People I look up to.
I am just a filtered version of them.
While still being authentically myself.

Ultimately my poetry is who I am.
Painfully tender
and
Sourly sweet.
As I am all of the contradictions within myself.
silvervi Jan 7
I am enough as I am.

I don't need to impress. I don't need to entertain. I don't need to please. I don't need to satisfy.

I can just be what I feel like being.
I can just do what I feel like doing.
Sara Barrett Jan 2
You’re considered too wild, they say
a storm that never stops raining,
a flame that burns without end.

You were more to their liking, however.
when your voice was barely a breath,
a shadow pressed against the wall.

They considered your silence graceful.
By hollowing you out—
Confusing stillness with softness,
Your passion for destruction.

Being too much is impossible, isn’t it?
It’s only just begun for them.
Entering your depths slowly.

The reason is that you are the sea.
Deep, rising, and endless.

Allow them to drown.
"Too Much" is a declaration of self-empowerment, a response to those who attempt to silence or diminish the fullness of one's being. Using the imagery of storms, flames, and the sea, the poem explores the tension between being misunderstood and reclaiming one's truth. It is a call to embrace one's passions, depth, and wildness, despite the discomfort it may cause others. The poem speaks to the power of owning one's space in the world and the freedom that comes from shedding the expectations of those who fail to see beyond the surface.
showyoulove Dec 2024
So often, my love is shallow or fake
Unwilling to do what I know it takes
I am too wrapped up in my self-love
Self-interest and self-pity
To see that my vision is itty-bitty
I miss the sunset staring at the ground
Tenser than a spring, I'm so tightly wound
In the war between the spirit and the flesh
Caught in the middle, I'm a hot mess
So easy to say I love you
But so difficult to really prove
You love me without condition
And you send me out on a mission
Jesus; source of love in pure perfection
In your love help me be a reflection
Imperfect as I may be, shine through me today
Grant me the grace to turn back to you
And the discipline to obey

For freedom is found in following
The law of the Lord is the light of love.
Perfect peace and power pass over
When we watch with awe and wonder
What happens when, in our need, we kneel.
Sorrow and sadness in the savior's shadow
Are arrested in authentic love's atoning act,
Shed for sinners in the ultimate sacrifice.
Body and blood broken and beautiful
We are given the gift of God's great grace.
Recall the wretched reign, be reborn; renewed
For Christ has come to call his child.
showyoulove Oct 2024
So often my love is shallow or fake
Unwilling to do what I know it takes
I am too wrapped up in my self-love
Self-interest and self-pity
To see that my vision is itty-bitty
I miss the sunset staring at the ground
Tenser than a spring I'm so tightly wound
In the war between the spirit and flesh
Caught in the middle, I'm a hot mess
So easy to say I love you
But so difficult to really prove
You love me without condition
And you send me out on mission
Jesus; source of love in pure perfection
In your love help me be a reflection
Imperfect as I may be shine through me today
Grant me grace to turn back to you
And the discipline to obey

For freedom is found in following
The law of the Lord is the light of love.
Perfect peace and power passes over
When we watch with awe and wonder
What happens when, in our need, we kneel.
Sorrow and sadness in the savior's shadow
Are arrested in authentic love's atoning act,
Shed for sinners in the ultimate sacrifice.
Body and blood broken and beautiful
We are given the gift of God's great grace.
Recall the wretched reign, be reborn renewed
For Christ has come to call his child.
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