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Sabika Mar 2022
A cloudy sky is a terrifying one.

See it’s subtle ripples
Through the brisk autumn wind.
See how close they come to suffocate,
As they trap the light within.
Ebb and flow,
They shrink and grow,
Patched, attached, detached,
Never-ending.
A cloudy sky is terrifying.

See the colours dull.
Everything washed over with a grey hue.
Don’t get me wrong,
I still find it beautiful.

Heads are lowered and humbled.
Travellers move faster with direction.
Chats are shortened.
Thinking “get out of the way of a rainy day.”
Like a cloudy sky is an affliction,
Strengthening the addiction to the sun.
A cloudy sky is a terrifying one.
pilgrims Nov 2021
The petals are already wilting
Is their stay really so short?
What irony twists is whim
but such is life
there is no end to a rim
The hoops of my own eyes mirrors that of reality itself
also that of my own sanity
Is it sanity that makes me seek infernal truth?
Is it a different sanity that makes others blind?
Is it insanity which seeks eternal youth?
Is it insane to wish
of seeing petals in perfection
one last time?
Reposting this because I've decided again that it's important to me and worth having on my profile ;P
mica Jan 2021
thanks for letting me know you won't feel the same, it made me more inspired to write about you. how ironic.
(:
Nat Jan 2021
Said I was sheltered
Then showed me some real ****** up ****
I could never forget
You left a mark
In the worst way
Like an earthquake
You shook me up
Opened my eyes
To all the lies
Opened the door
To all that was hidden
I should have never seen
Knew me the best
And still did what you did
No respect
For me
**** hit differently
After seeing it so vividly
And I can’t deny  
Thought **** wasn’t fair to me
But now I see it so clearly
Tunnel vision
The bigger picture appeared to me
Something bigger
I’m meant to be

n.y.g
Isn’t it funny how
Earth, forged from the universe
Will die by our hands?
Faron Hymn Yang Aug 2020
don't you find it funny
how desperate we are to feel?
— what a great story!
(i cried eleven times)
chloe Jun 2020
It seems I can only write about love.
Which is weird because I am completely alone.
There is no one in the world who I want to hug
And not a single person, place, or thing I can call home.

Maybe it's that I am writing for someone else?
A stranger who needs to read loving words.
I think I write for everyone but myself.
I can’t pretend that being this lonely doesn’t hurt.

I think this is irony, but I am not sure.
My life feels pitiful and stupid.
There is not much more I can endure.
Perhaps love is just not something for which I am suited.

Alas, I will continue to write.
Because it is the only thing I can do.
My silly little poems give me life.
Even though reading my beautiful words make me blue.
(Before Covid 19)

I distance you
Because I hate you!

(After Covid 19)

I distance you
Because I love you!
After hearing the advise if you are caring for fellow citizens too distance yourself from them
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