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MetaVerse Oct 2024
There was an Old Man
Of Japan
     Whose limericks would never
     Ever
Scan.
In the shadows, it's waiting
A vessel of deceit, a heart that's hating
The truth is hidden, the lies are revealed
In the box of lies, the secrets are concealed


I'm searching for the answers, but they're hard to find
In the maze of lies, I'm losing my mind
The box is whispering secrets, a siren's call
But the truth is elusive, and I'm bound to fall



Can you hear the whispers, in the dead of night?
A voice that's calling, but the words ain't right
In the box of lies, the truth is distorted
But the secrets are hidden, and the lies are exported


I'm trying to escape, but the box is locked tight
The lies are suffocating, and the truth is out of sight
I'm searching for a way out, but it's hard to find
In the box of lies, I'm losing my mind


In the shadows, the box is waiting
A vessel of deceit, a heart that's hating
The truth is hidden, the lies are revealed
In the box of lies, the secrets are concealed


In the box of lies, the truth is distorted
But the secrets are hidden, and the lies are exported.
Jeremy Betts Jan 13
The tears shed for what has long since gone will only distort the importance of every right here, right now, leading to nothing but regret when what's all said and done catches up to the last setting sun

©2025
~ Monostich/Monoku ~
A poem or stanza that consists of a single line and single train of thought.
~
The word Monostich comes from the Greek word monostichon, which means "consisting of one line of verse"
~
Find Item
Distort Item
Project Item

Find People
Distort People
Project those People
Good Morning everybody, happy Thursday!
Erwinism Sep 2024
A warped mirror perhaps?
My face always twisted,
always grimacing behind a dry beam.
Two Tylenols are never enough.

Ella.
A lump caught in my throat.  
Her scent walks by,
uninvited, yet welcomed.

A blurred outline,
a cutout blocking the light.
I yearn to sweat nightmares
out of my pores.

At night, her voice still fogs
the thick wall of silence—
muffled.
“Are you listening?”
Obscured echoes stir
down the pit of this endless night.

Tulips grow somewhere
on the side of the bed,
where it whirrs and beeps,
and reeks of alcohol.  
But the night is ever still,
unperturbed, as it sleeps in my arms.

Murmurs drift like dust motes,
caught in a sunbeam—

Ella.
I chase shadows of her laughter,
fading out against gushing white noise.  
Fingers twitch to speak,
for words are somehow
lost in static.

The walls hum a song,
croaking with hurt it sounds—
“Stay with me,” it pleads,
but my indifference swallows
the words.

In the spaces between breaths,
I linger suspended.
Ella might be digging me out.
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2021
I paint me a smile

But today my made-up colors smudge

You can see frown visible underneath

Dim
Distressed
And too distorted to hide
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay while
-Adam Levine (from Maroon 5)
Veritia Venandi Nov 2020
White transparent tiled floor
Arranged in a lively mosaic
Speaks tales of a spooky world alongside me!

The windows and the curtains hugging the plastered walls
With views of flower trees and mountains near and far...
Gets reflected upon the tiled floor
Upside down, shadowy and unreal!

Maybe it is reminder for my heart
That the world I see is only an illusion my mind frames to colour a blank canvas
Maybe the world is true only upside down
The scenaries and sights distorted and fake the usual way...
Maybe it's important to bend your mind all the way
And try to see what can't easily catch the eye...

A sinister universe breaths about me
And only once in a while tugs at me to have a glimpse...
And whenever that happens, it's a moment of all eternity that seems to go worthwhile!
This is a real experience that happened to me when I was kind of doing nothing... My eyes suddenly caught this reflection of the window and trees outside on the tiled floor in the room and I like sort of felt it as a metaphor with the help of which the world was trying to teach me something... That the real world is not what is in front of us. It is usually kinda different, in a way, 'upside down'.
Thank you so much for reading and being a part of my reflections. ❤
-elixir- Oct 2020
The distorted reflections of hopes
turn golden with an air of dope
through each line I inscribe
on the face my life, alive
through sickness
and by darkness.
GOLDEN.HOPES
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