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Maria 1d
It’s morning. I woke up. It’s hatefully grey.
I’d close my eyes and go back to sleep.
Thoughts wander around me like chimeras
And weave their nets from all sides of me.

I think I’ll make one of them just a reality:
I’ll make some coffee, there’s no other way.
The day won’t work out without coffee.
And there’ll be a mess in my head anyway.

I’m up. What a nebulous nasty morning.
It shamelessly drives me crazy at all.
And why did I suddenly feel wholly
That I know all about myself?
What a fool?

What a phenomenal wacky silliness!
What a criminal irrational nonsense!
I thought that tomorrow is really fatal
As it was in the same way for years.

And what is in point of fact?
Where’s tomorrow?
All colors around me are totally dim.
I try to find my previous strong energy,
But only monotony is all-around me.

It was so simple yesterday, but now it’s ugly.
My coffee’s sneezing. It’s got a cold.
Well, I’ll go to live just like that, don’t look behind.
And I will live as long as I can, with no support.
Thank you very much for reading it! 💖
~
It should be stark
and unprovoked,
yet fight to conceal.

It should justify
its intrusion
by layering
new narratives:
each a wonderland,
each a poison.

It should spring
like a cat,
cloud like doubt,
evaporate like
cigarettes at dawn.

It should backlight
truth, fictionalize
history.

It should undo
reality, drift into abyss
with the Lady of Shalott.

It should lead
the march into the sea,
it should die gracefully.

~
Cosmic fingers sketch the void—
A dance of stars: serene, destroyed.
Beast and man in fleeting union,
Flesh and thought in strange communion.

Birds cry out with cryptic voices,
Hearts pulled toward endless choices.
What was truth now slips its tether,
Lost in tides that bind no weather.

Nations build with fear’s direction,
Walls of pride, not true protection.
Martyrs rise in flawed succession,
Stone to dust in slow regression.

Yet when the dreamers pierce the haze,
And light ignites the fractured maze—
As planes give way to boundless vast,
Your breath becomes the world at last.
When Dreamers Dare is a philosophical and visionary poem that explores the tension between chaos and creation, illusion and awakening. Set against a cosmic and societal backdrop, it traces humanity’s struggles—internal, political, and existential—while ultimately celebrating the transformative power of dreamers who transcend limits to illuminate new realities
It suits you
             And me
That's all that matters  
It suits
The mirror not to reflect less of you
It suits
Your clothes to lie that they've grown

To use fountain pen's
                             Write left handed
            Smudge words with wrists
           Before meaning can be seen

It suits us to know
                           Without telling each other
Sometime I see,
Drift of serene shadows.
Sometimes walls float,
Amidst empty gallows.

Hard to feel
The taste of veal,
Hard to sense,
What feelings miss,
On Lee.

Not what I see,
Not shared reality.
All could be
What’s not in me.

I walk a shallow,
Its fallow hums.
Howls rise empty,
Fell the blue tree.

Cherry without taste,
A dream’s faint state.
What lies in my realm
Lacks any helm.

A lonely road I walk,
To Salk an open goad.
I must see
My illusions, gee.

It’s lacking,
No meaning.
What fallacy must play,
On killing today.
Rory 6d
No wonder you are just an illusion,
Forming a shape
Making it hard to believe,
That once you were just a shade.

Mocking and mimicking
My fantasies
That were merely and truly,
Tales of yours
In the orchid of mine.
Saanvi 7d
If I never get to be as beautiful
as all the pretty girls around me,
at least let me be

the scattered breeze ruffling your skin,
the scattered wind carrying whispers from the mountains,
the scattered sunlight illuminating cracked walls.

If I never get to be as graceful
as all the eloquent girls around me,
at least let me be

scattered like desert sand
all over your landscape.
At least let me be

scattered like drops of water
coloring the morning leaves.

Scatter my ashes, aghast, into ocean water,
because—

if I am never pretty enough for you,
at least let me be...
at least let me be,

who I am in reality:
a scattered mosaic
with missing pieces....
I am a scattered mosaic with missing pieces. My soul has been fragmented time and again....
Rory Apr 24
Long ago there stood some mystery
Waiting to be explored
Down the trough,
Up the crest,
Where in nothing cremated.
Then forcibly drawn
To accept and reject,
The truth
The unfoldings of life.
:)
To all the questions swirling in my head.
Arii Apr 23
I hate you
For no good reason.
I hate you
Because you remind me of me.
I hate you
‘cause you’re like a reality check.
I hate you
For all the very traits that
I, too, have.
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