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Kalliope Jun 5
Depression is a thief of time,
whom I once called a friend,
I liked that she was predictable- and sometimes gave me an edge,
But she has been a tricky lover,
hard to get away from
I've spent too many years
hiding under my covers,
my time to leave her has come
See she makes my bed so appealing,
begs me to stay in the house,
but all my loved ones are leaving,
I don't want to be the forgotten mouse
When we scroll through old pictures,
my youthful eyes cause pain,
depression says I'll never be her again but I long to re-light that flame
I want to love life again
Mariah Jun 3
Hopeless on a Monday
Strange comfort in its despair-
in consistency
Felt lost today.
Kalliope May 26
I've watered this garden for ages
Yet nothing ever grows
I've consulted botanical mages
They haven't the time for my trivial woes

I've pruned with bloodied fingertips-
Soil so stubborn, refusing to shift
I've given every pamphlet a flip
Still no signs of a horticultural gift
At the very bottom seam
of my very favorite watering can
is a rusted hole
Jeremy Betts Jan 24
Things are bad and getting worse
And what's worse
Is this stagnant curse
One maybe set from birth
But who knows
All I know
Is it can't lead to the back of a hearse
First things first
And for what is worth
I need to find my worth
But while searching for said worth
I find myself dying of thirst
Realizing life can't be reversed
Opportunity dispersed
I have to accept the empty
Path I've traversed
And acknowledge the wasted good karma
Will never be reimbursed

©2025
Kalliope Jan 15
If I go to the left I miss out on the right,
And I'll never know what's right for me.
But I sit and feel doom, and plead with the moon to illuminate what I need to see.

The path was a fork, cut black and white
A simple 50/50 decision.
But under moon light, it's more than I thought, with unpaved paths through the grass that have risen.

A beautiful maze, all of these ways I could get to my destination,
But each road I turn too, the next one I yearn for, so I'm stuck here in purgatory station.
I don't want to be one thing,
I want to be all,
A mother, a lover, a friend, successful
But I can't shake the feeling,
That choosing a path
Puts one of my dreams to an end
Willow Dec 2024
My mind is calm,
Empty,
But not in the way I cherish.
The whiteout is blank,
Motionless,
The water on a still lake.
I long for the storms,
Rivers,
Rainfalls of inspirations.
Instead,
All I get,
Is c a l m
Kalliope Nov 2024
A ghost or a shell
I never can tell
When I look in the mirror
And everything's weird
The smile I miss
Now a thin line so crisp
The glaze in my eyes
Since the glow died
This skin isn't mine
This body feels like a crime
I don't recognize what I see
I just want to feel like me
Holding onto the past
But wanting to be new
How long does this transition last
I'm ready to shed this shade of blue
fish-sama Nov 2024
Sometimes I snap back to reality
Smell my burning hopes killing me
And I cry when my eyes kiss the smoke
Of dreams and connections and plans I wrote
Suffocating in the fire I stroke
But death is warm and my fear is cold
I'm stuck, sinking into coals alone
Turning fifteen and
I miss my past
A wish won't last
I must keep on
Going running
I must accept
Your expectations
I have no passion
I have no mission
I take no action
Must I go on?
If uphill ends
Then maybe I’ll reach
The top no downs
A high I can keep
I don’t want to fall
I dont want to fade
I’ll give it my all
I’ll never fall
I’ll give it my all
Courage will call
I'll give it my all
I’ll give it…
It’s useless
My body fades and decays
Afraid, inside, anxious
I Stay
I wait and wait
I ask Self-hate to
Let me go
Away
This elastic band it’s my comfort zone
Snaps back around my throat
Let me go
Hey readers! This is a poem about feeling stagnant in one place and all bursts of inspiration fails. It's my own actions that make me fail, which really *****. I hope you all can relate and I love feedback :)
busy pitter patters
of feet, at least
pretending
to be busy
these humans,
these flesh sacks,
place their bags
laptops
their unconsciousness
on this barnes & noble’s
coffee tables
whose chairs aren’t comfortable

yet, here they sit, beside me
amongst me
and an old
ancient, it seems now,
version of me would’ve cursed them
silently
while pretending to associate
to relate
to give a ****
for doing so,
for raising my anxiety,
for reflecting what i truly was,
at least
pretending
to identify with that narrow
window of my self

some collide
physically,
cosmically,
spiritually,
intuitively, whatever the hell you brand it

we all seek
connection,
always elsewhere,
never with our miserable
anxious selves

and if we can’t connect
we, at least
pretend
to do so
much like our riddling iphones
desperate for battery
for a sort of
charge
for life
elsewhere
somewhere else
anywhere
else rather than within

to be alone, amongst the crowds,
without our phones, our books,
our lovers, our seven dollar coffees,
our ******* egg white breakfast sanwhiches

almost as if these things
are essential to the unsavory
cravings and desires, or
dare i say
ourselves

we pretend
to work, to live
we read, without reading
we speak, without thinking,
we speak, without speaking,

“to be, or not to be.”

we don’t care for
intention
anymore
how could we?
we’re just so
un-*******-phadomably
busy
doing
nothing,

at all

just,
pretending.

-melanholicreator
people pretend.
ShininGale Nov 2023
Through the years I have watched and defended you on my mind,
even to myself I exploit my own plot of the story.

I know your love has its limit,
I saw the clear lines and live with it.
I know I was treated differently,
but hey! I told myself I've always wanted this.

𝙏𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩.

It was easier to agree and trust others, right?
But with me there are words added to the lines.

It has always been this way;
to become someone your own, but always feels alone.
0110110202309055AM
I forgot when was the last time I wrote a poetry
but through the time nothing really changed.

But we became better people, better individuals.
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