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~
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.

~
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 Apr 27
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 Apr 26
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.
reality is very jarring
it's so different from my books
I love the escape
all the different worlds I can experience
so much better than reality
Piyush Apr 22
We gave away our wings to fly,
We chose our hands to reach the sky,
And now we are floating way up high,
But the fall is real this time.

Why is it easy to fly in the sky?
Why is it not a crime to die?
The heart is beating so fast up high,
But he just wants to die.

He needs nothing now in his life,
He's content with his own sacrifice.
Why is it easy to die?
Why is it hard to find the sky?

He’s ready to throw away his life,
Just to reach the sky,
A sky without a night,
A killer without a knife.

The world around him isn’t bright,
Yet he tried to make it right.
Why must the side character always die?
Why does no one see his fight?

He needs nothing now in his life,
He's content with his sacrifice.
He gave up his wings to fly—
Now…

The blood is all over him now,
His hands have finally fallen down,
The world begins to fade somehow,
An end that no one wants.
Kasansa Kuya Apr 22
As I sit in my shallow pool,
every movement carries meaning.
I shift
a wave appears.
I touch
a ripple dissolves into silence.

In this still water,
I witness my connection to reality
and reality, in turn, acknowledges me.
When I force the waves,
push them with all my might,
they recoil and push back,
equal and unwavering.

As if to say:
all you do
will return to you
in equal kind.

So I see my influence
if not on the world,
then at least on this small surface of it.
My own lunar pull
on a body of water
that never needed the ocean.

I used to try to keep still,
to let the water settle,
to find some perfect calm.
But stillness, too, was a choice
a part of the dance.

And when I moved again,
the waves would rise.
The world would rumble.
And I would swim.
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