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Did i truly loved you?
Or not for I was forcing my burdens on you?
Did I saw you as my one?
Or did I saw you as the one?
As a victim whom I can pass my burdens on,
So that I can feel lighter?
As time goes on,
Did I really fell for you?
Or did I fell for the reason I have set standards on you?
Am I just proclaiming this is love that I have felt for you?
Or is this really love trying to convinvce me over?
Was I just confused?
With love and infatuation?
Is this really love?
Or am I just setting my standards on you?
If this is really love,
Why did I expected more from you?
When I say I already have accepted you as a whole?
Did I really accepted you?
Or did I just disregard those ugly facts and looked where I just wanted to?
Was I afraid because I don't want to lose you?
Or is it because if I lose you I'll be losing myself too?
Writen on September 18, 2019 13:38
Graye Apr 2020
All I wanted was to talk:
to have another acknowledge these events
That tore my life to shreds.

When I did speak,
It was instantly flipped or ignored.
So I said enough, I'm not doing this anymore.

I will not give to those who only take
Or to hear my stories so they can create
A reality which would leave me
The center of their entertainment.

I am not a joke,
Nor is my life at any rate,
A show.

I admit I was clingy, I admit I lost connections
I thought were worthy of pursuing
Because I needed support early in the friendship.

They didn't know
I was in anguish
Or perhaps they didn't care.
Either way,
I was left standing there.

My screams were muted,
My statements unheard.
The help I needed
Was blatantly ignored

I'm now silent
To prevent these losses
Because apparently people
Don't know how to handle these problems
Mary E Zollars Apr 2020
My teacher asks for the theme,
But I don’t know how to answer
I know and I know that
A theme is or is not one word,
A common thing, a binding spell
A theme is or is not an instruction,
Told by the character’s actions,
Shown in carefully crafted consequences.
A theme is or is not a quality,
Something which defines a character,
Which determines the course of the story
It is or is not more than one sentence.
It is or is not subjective to the reader.
It is or is not, so I don’t know the answer.

But I could tell you about the Little Chinese Seamstress
About blind obsession,
About jealousy, about wonder
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
I could tell you about how reading is so personal,
Its effect on one
Can not be understood by another
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
Or how skill is developed by tragic experience
How learning comes from failing to learn
Would that be enough? Would that be enough?
Or if I told you that the quality of a book
is only as good as its final passage,
If I told you that
a story shouldn’t be told until its last word,
Bound by something so profound,
The book must be reread, reanalyzed
Delving into the intricate mind of the author,
With full control over life and reality,
With the power to make one word thousands,
A detail into a novel,
Anything into anything without writing it down,
Because if you can understand what the author was thinking,
Then the author was not thinking at all
Would that be enough?
Could knowing be enough?

If you asked an author
To name to you one of their themes,
Do you think they’d know the answer?
Do you think they’d care what you mean?

Is it more valuable to the student
To understand or to define?
Is it more telling of the mind
To describe an impact,
Or to save time?
Solange Apr 2020
INK
Before  
the world was born
what lay
between the skies?
Did the bridge of
Unknown
cross over  
into the great horizon?

When the first  
blot of ink 
was crafted,
what was the first
of its many creations?

Did it know that
from mere blots,
entire worlds have been spawned?

Did it know
with its spiraling, expanding,
pearly-darkness,
with its natural proneness to accidents,  
the art and knowledge  
it would found?

Be careful not to shake,
or deplete it in wasteful splatters
You should know,
with the ink of a pen
you hold
the very universe
and all its entity
between your fingertips

And between your ears,
the capacity to truly create it all.
Entire worlds…
and even more.
An underappreciated glory.
Hailey Mar 2020
Push, pull, push.
Easy with yourself now.

Pull, push, pull.
Come closer, listen, vow.

Through the rocks, and water, and darkness, and light --
And all things uncertain in this strange unknown world
We must push.
We must pull.
We must push.
We must fight.
Sebastian VL Mar 2020
Super Saiyan like Goku
Japanese got Nobu
Got things to blow through
Soul searching eat soul food

Lineman said go blue
Know things I know too
Cough down got the flu
'Rona season ye they knew

Hit a lick and they rich now
Kobe shooting bricks now
Make music you call sounds
Shorty go two rounds

Henny Henny on the flip town
Jealousy they talk about
I don't really give a **** now
I just wanna blow it up now

Someone come roll spliffs
6ix God go views this
Air punching got no fists
I just feel so diff

Get rich and go dip
Pinking I go swim
Jelly jelly got no diss
****** like solstice

Don't want to lose connect
Dripping down like a faucet
I just want to be blessed
Late sleep feel too stressed

Situations go reflect
"**** my ex" is a reflex
I just want two things
Big money and respect

East to side to the rex
Play smart got no decks
Aces  up next
Need a queen be the best

Whip around in my X
Flex on my ex
Check time Rolex
Get "I miss you" texts
This poem is a rhythmic work of art that flows to the instrumental of "B.S" by Jhene Aiko Ft. H.E.R. It is a personal poem based on my past gastronomical, athletic, romantic, and impactful experiences. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Have a good day. :)
Proctor Ehrling Feb 2020
You're reaching the town
I left at your incentive
Your verb was a noun
My verb an adjective
I've built a rapport
On breaking my own heart unprovoked
You've built a house
You lie in it and burn to dust
Freestyle written in 3 minutes.
Monica Jan 2020
He created a secret profile
and admired her from a distance
Although he lived next door
Afraid to approach her scared of what she might say
Peeks out the window
To watch her hips sway from side to side
Then places his hand in his pants
Imagining the motion
In his head she created this love potion formulated only for him
Eyes stuck to her like gorilla glue
Fixated
Dark
Twisted
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