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Ally-Human Dec 2024
It is only that I have seen the real pain poisoning man’s mouth, the burdens wandering, the day they remember speech for the greeting of the sun. It is when they dream that they get what they want, yet all so often the battle creeps in to wake them, to remind them to run. Eyes wide open with mouths sewn shut.

Speak to me my love, with your eyes instead, lest the soul weigh down the combustion within your butterfly heart, whisper notions and I will understand each uttering phrase… for you and I, know not separation, we are family, friends, lovers… we are Gods my love.

So in the midst of the current, lay on my hand, because for you I will never forget how to fly, even without wings or gusts to guide me. For you, I will know, so that when the time comes to halt, I shalt share my meta with you.

I can be the mundane muse that trickles the innate to whisper back into your ear, because even with mouths sewn shut, this song has never been sung so beautifully and Akasha has never been so full.

And all you did, was open your eyes.

All I did, was wander.
Every word invites readers to reflect, relate, and find solace in shared experiences. Breaking the Silence, Defying the Pain.
Ally-Human Dec 2024
Loneliness to me does not have a pure definition.

It’s knowing that no one can hold onto me for I cannot hold myself long enough to feel the freedom of life, it’s being in the company of the stable whilst feeling like an unsteady lifeline on mute.

It’s abandonment before being abandoned, it’s having left myself before I met myself, for I have never truly become.

It’s alienation and alienating, both within and without, it’s hiding whilst shining and fading whilst visible.

It's exposed shadowed numbness while your world finds your heartbeat, its death while breathing.

It's unlovable daunting trauma, and now… it’s me, the unwavering indescribable description of a rigid self. Me.
Every word invites readers to reflect, relate, and find solace in shared experiences. Breaking the Silence, Defying the Pain.
dead poet Dec 2024
hello?
you there…?
i can’t hear you!
we haven’t talked in a while, it’s true.
thought i’d remind you - the rent is due.
maybe… have a shower, or two?

i wanted to -
let you -
know that i haven’t given up on you.
though i’ll admit, it took a lot of work -
to finally get through to you.

it was brave what you did,
and stupid at the same time;
thinking you could make the climb,
holding on to your gratuitous rhymes.

it takes a while to see what's wrong
with all the ways you've known all along;
it never hurts to take a little detour -
ask for help, when you're not too sure.

don’t be too ******* yourself,
take it easy.
not everyone will see, or get,
what you see.
move around -
pick up a book -
or better, a blank page.
let your purpose take the center stage.

just one thing before i go,
perhaps, it’s good to let a few things go.  
anyway,
thought you could use some counseling.
come to think of it,
were you even listening?
hello?
you there…?
DJQuill Nov 2024
I'm a key without a cute or handy keychain.
Just a key.
I open doors for many,
but not for myself.
I'm a key without a lanyard.
I'm loose and easy to lose.
Just a key.
I'm a key without another key next to me.
No keychain or lanyard to share.
Just a key.
KN Nov 2024
Yesterday I wondered about a math textbook
From a former grade
And yawned disappointedly,
Prancing in a bubble of wonder,
"which idiot could've gotten these answers wrong?"

     A smile befell my face
     adoring my superiority
     And cracked a laugh or two
     Scoffing the sheer ignorance.

Silence shortly pondered upon my mind
I slapped my cheeks and banged on the table.
I resented every smile in detestable realisation,  
The book was mine.
I lose my shape, shattered
In turmoil, deeply battered
Beneath my veil, head bowed and tattered.

I lose my way, defeated
In steps that forget to plead,
In anger blind to its misdeeds.

O Master of the Universe,
I am lost,
Forgotten the path of obedience.

O Ruler of the Horizon,
At Your door, I knock in submission,
To embrace the light of devotion.
dead poet Nov 2024
they say its easier said than done.
i say, not poetry.
it's easier done than said.
dead poet Nov 2024
give me a break!
sometimes, it’s too much to take.
the winds have not been kind to me,
for i am the dark horse in your wicked games.

i’m making my way, often slaving away
given a chance to start over,
i’d choose not to play.

‘it is what it is’, i say, and let it be.
i sacrificed my youth at the altar of perfection, thinking,
‘how bad can it be?’

i try to be, more than eyes can see.
but I’m just a shadow of a terrified kid,
hiding behind my fallen dreams.

it’s all so dull, the colours have faded -
i couldn’t do much when the demons invaded.
i’ve been dragging their chains for far too long,
never whole, never free.
i’m sorry!
i’m just not used to it, like i used to be.  

yet i see a light, though not as bright
it flickers every night, telling me to put up a fight.
i must protect it from the ungodly winds,
lest it should die somewhere deep inside.  

but i'm only human, my friend.
please don't be so ******* me.
i'm tired of losing sleep over
the promises I could never keep.
there's no way out, it seems.
guess i'm in too deep.
**** it!
i’d rather be the dark horse
than the black sheep.

do me a favour,
please don't lose your faith in me!
i locked away the things i loved,
and now i can't seem to find the key.
i'll be back before you know it,
ready to go again, on the count of three.
just give me a break!
i’m not used to it, like i used to be.
Lemon Black Oct 2024
Wave after wave, a playful gale flurries,
To the outstretched palm of Mother Nature,
Each tamed to a steady caress,
As she tends, lovingly nurtures,
Her arboretums underwater,
Where blooms and seaweed sway, unbothered.

An albatross aloft, above,
Not biting on wind’s game of riddles,
Indifferent to which way comes gust,
Unfazed, steadfast, like sky-held buoy.

Then blows my way, at last,
Someone to toy - I’m not as rigid,
And flutters my lips to swear out dust.
I fall for it so easily. Oh boy.
Interpretation and perspective can paint the same scenery in vastly different colors. In seeking the underlying intent, we may catch a hint of it—even if none exists. The balance between intuitive insight and evoking suspicions of our own making is delicate. Understanding this is perhaps all we can ask of ourselves: observe, learn, and be mindful not to tip the scale too far.
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