The worst competition,
Is the one that always lingers,
It never truly comes in first,
But it seems to be fighting for more than second.
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Sole SystemSole System
Stardust means dying.
Withering ash of the flame,
And mine will not fade.
Are what I refuse to be.
I’m far more than that.
I’m a concoction,
Of blood, bones, cells and water.
The true, sole system.
What Does Love Look Like?What Does Love Look Like?
I often think about love.
I think about the shapes and forms it takes on.
And I believe it is all around us, even when humanity isn’t.
What does love look like?
It looks like the sunlight,
Rays that shine through the clouds,
Eternally keeping you warm and bright.
What does love look like?
It looks like death;
The dwindling of the physical embodiment.
Your hands may never hold each other’s again…
But the souls of true lovers will never fade, true love has no end.
What does love look like?
It looks like the tide of a sea.
The way it flows in and away,
Then back again.
Love is a like a tide that always returns back to the shore,
Because it cannot stay away for too long before it returns back to her.
Last night, I dreamt of us.
We were together on a mountaintop,
I was sitting on the edge,
With my legs dangling above the bottomless pit,
With a lone, white chrysanthemum in my hand as I pull the petals from the stem.
While you were standing above me, looking on, languidly,
None of us wanting to say anything,
My own mental battle sewing my lips to one another,
Unable to speak,
While you were probably trapped within your own mental depths;
In my mind, I was debating between venting and jumping,
Simply over the fact I didn’t know what that look was in your eyes,
But I think that’s probably the point, that we’re no longer of the same kind,
Maybe I changed into something I’m unaware of, maybe you were the one to transform,
But I don’t get the same feel of what used to be,
This is foreign to me,
An unapologetic feeling of extreme apathy,
And that is the unfortunate reality of this situation,
No matter how long
The formation of this unexpected gift, weird and lovely,
It has what it isn’t, does what isn’t initially intended,
And when the words begins to flow I feel a stream of cool mojo,
The signals go through my chrome antennae imagining the senses of a lioness,
The hyper magician disguises these words in double entendres,
And let the morphemes crash down with warp speed.
These words forever untamed, this negativity always unwanted,
My stories created haphazardly but they crave strict melody,
My most vulnerable poetry is a concoction of lovely anxiety,
Ashes twisted and scattered onto the paper,
Darkness over takes me, but my poetry is savin’.
It sheds light to the night’s shade pulled over my optics,
Poetry is the key, the blade that destroys the poisonous thoughts.
Believe What LiesBelieve What Lies
Why do empty smiles appear prettiest?
For the simple reason this is the one you choose to believe,
Without looking for the actual truth that lie behind those eyes,
For apathy has set in; maybe you’re just tired of trying…..
I Don't Need Riches (Wealthy Spirit)I Don’t Need Riches (Wealthy Spirit)
I don’t ask to drown in riches,
I ask for wealth of spirit.
Too LateToo Late
We never pay attention,
Till someone is on the edge of death,
And by the time that moment arrives,
A shaky breath has already escaped their lips for the final time.
Sometimes you need seclusion to reclaim your mind.
Blacken your vision and close your eyes,
Plug your ears from the outside,
As you fall back, back inside of “I.”
And not “we,” “he,” “she,” but me.
Sometimes to find myself,
I must lose everyone else.
10/8i cut myself just above the knee,
a friendly reminder
as to why i can't run away anymore.
(& it's not working.)
we're all drunk and always have beenno
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because i don't breathe poetry in
and out -
and out -
i write it under my eyebrows
with the precision
of a drunk sniper
toasted into admission
with irony s-st-tutter-ering
down his throat.
you wouldn't take a damned bullet for me.
beautiful is a word kept
for the rise
of her tidal chest,
not my shallow breath,
not my sunset, heartfelt,
i would have disappeared
between your accusing index and
neglected thumb -
don't you feel calmer?
i haven't felt smaller than this
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because you found a home between
her stroking index and
comforting thumb -
i haven't forgotten,
no, i still remember
now twenty two penumbrae in the past
didn't stop me
in one of several crevasses
at the bottom of your oceanic mind;
you may have forgotten,
and slept in
on the details,
but i haven't,
Mistakes and Resolutions (2P!GermanyxReader)Mistakes and Resolutions
Contest Entry for 2P!Hetalia-X-Reader
"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!
Alles schläft, einsam wacht
Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh."
The tall German man sang the song to himself, remembering the week before when his house had been made less lonely by a tall pine tree and the sound of his girlfriend's voice.
She was decorating the tree while singing the song, her crystal clear voice ringing through the air. He smiled at the sound of his girl singing a song in his native tongue. (F/n) was currently trying to place a candle holder on one of the higher branches of the tree. He smirked at her as he watched her stretch, everything about her body drawing him near.
Letting out a frustrated huff of air, the (h/c) haired girl gave up, stomping her foot on the ground. Lutz chuckled and lifted himself from his seat. Slowly, quietly, he made his way to
Fear of LifePlease do not fear being beneath the Earth’s soil
For that is where the seeds of flowers grow
Be patient and life will reveal its mysteries
But only when it is ready to do so
By all means take time to search for the truth
But beware, please do not become obsessed
As we only fear what we don’t understand
And what we don’t understand is but a test
A test of faith in whatever you believe
Now stand up for yourself and you cannot fail
If life is the hammer waiting to fall
Then you must refuse to be the nail
Please do not fear being above the Earth’s soil
For that is where the flowers begin to bloom
Just open your heart as their petals do
And your life will be as sweet as their perfume
You could be the change in someone’s journey
Showing them the path from incomplete to whole
Why not give someone the gift of your love
And watch as they gently unwrap your soul
Suddenly the truth will dawn upon you
To live life without fear and you cannot fail
If life is a sailboa
she sees his plane in the oceani shed layers of feeling in ink and words like a rain-soaked coat but my heavy head doesn't feel any lighter
i keep waking up in the morning but the sun doesn't seem to shine any brighter
i can't control the world can't save you just nightmares and waiting and worry
the days become nights become weeks become months -- since when did my life get so blurry?
i keep my heart in a box beneath the bed where we slept, all the memories lay undisturbed
there's a book full of lyrics and tunes of the songs that without you, id never have heard
there's a scar on your head from when they tried to defeat you, it's so easy to see it now
you still reach for your curls with your trembling hands, i wish i could stop them from shaking somehow
years have passed since they gave me the letter, and i find myself waiting for you
you might open the door with a smile on your face, and tell me that none of it's true
my doorstep grows ever colder while the seasons wear down the wood
i know you would wa
When I Was 13I am just a little boy in a grown man’s shell
Who finds himself lost in a daydream
That my mind manifested one Monday morning
On the cusp of being aged thirteen
Sitting on a plastic chair in a stale classroom
Looking out of the rain lashed window
Thoughts turn to the length of my imagination
And indeed what distance it could go
I was snapped back to reality as always
With my tank topped teacher's booming cry
This was not the first, nor would it be the last time
I would find myself preoccupied
Classmates around me may live their life linear
Like most people who have gone before
But I can’t see the point of a mind’s vast landscape
If I am not going to explore
I am just a little boy in a grown man’s shell
Who’s become lost in a lonely life
For me reality had not been the ruler
But it most certainly had been rife
Sitting on a leather chair in a stale office
Looking out of the sun starved window
My imagination was plotting it's escape
Leaving no clues to where
Our Love LanguageA love language, by my definition, is the combining of words and actions to show affection. It differs from couple to couple, but that's what makes it so special. Only those two people know how to speak it, how to morph it and how to love one another through it.
The love language of Caleb and Ranie:
Sometimes I let him be the girl when we cuddle because he thinks it's comfortable
Apologizing first because I would rather be in his arms than win an argument
Supporting him through everything even if I'm not a part of it
Staying up late to talk to him when he gets off work even when I'm exhausted
Letting him play something for me on his trumpet even if I have a headache just because he's so excited
Playing clarinet and trumpet duets with him
Listening to his stories even if I've heard them before
Letting him drink all of my milk...
Surprising him with his favorite foods
Using his belly as a pillow
Being as patient as I can be
Letting him use my kitchen to cook and try recipes he's always w
things I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleepi
I’m spending most of my time
not crying, and I’m sorry,
but I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone
as much as aspirin, or lullabies,
or the cheap wine sold for two dollars a bottle,
or overly-apologetic letters bending over backwards
to make a point of themselves, or the pink petals
blooming on my wrists like flesh and blood miracles,
or the songs named after women
things may not change,
but you will have to.
I am most alone
surrounded by people
and the buzzing in my head of words
that should have lost their meaning
back when I discovered
they never meant anything
Dedications are only relevant
to people who appreciate shitty poetry,
or you. Insanity is writing the same thing
over and over and expecting it not
to sound clichéd.
and as much as anyone will swear otherwise,
I am a statistic. A number, an example,
a case study in the manipulation of
narcissism and moving on
The Right Hand Curse ReversedEverything that my right hand has ever written
Comes from the heart and mind of a boy that is cursed
So from now on I’ll learn to write with my left hand
In hope not expectation that this curse will be reversed
And then I shall sit in front of an open fire
Unflinching as each flame licks closer to my face
Not close enough though so it could swallow me whole
But just close enough so that it can have a taste
Of the beads of regret in my perspiration
That are forming and rolling down my furrowed brow
From a wildfire mind that is now out of control
Come thoughts that these damp morals fail to disallow
Everything that my right hand has ever written
Might as well have been scribed in invisible ink
With my thoughts being a vessel on a voyage of hope
And the weight of my memories causing it to sink
Right down to the depths of the deepest ocean floor
And left down there to rot beneath the sea bed
I thank the Lord that they’ll remain out of reach
And that none of the words I’ve
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