Circles
there’s something about curvesthat turn into themselvescircles and spheresno beginnings and no endsthey’re the hardest
days, lives and even spacethey all begin where they endevolving, with blurrier boundarieshoping that suffering eludes themhow pretty
burried in loopshopeful one minute,hopeless the otheraren’t you and imuch the same?
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Fifty Years
back in timefifty years from nowto this moment in lifewhen I rewindwill I fretfor not having thought rightor will I be contentwith what roams my mind
fleeting moments of clarityovershadowed by endless skepticisma self-serving purposeveiled under altruisman idol for someonea devil to anotherisn’t a mixed gray, all there isin this world devoid of color
thinking of a hundred possibilitiesand…
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Oblivion
I carry with meA bag of oblivionEverywhere, alwaysA grain of my lifeI dump into oblivion every daySo a piece of the worldCan become me every day
The day I learned to ride a bicycleAnd the things that all my friends said when I fellFaces from the school bus when I was eightAnd the chaos that came after the recess bell
Sounds from Harmonium lessons I took at sevenAnd the smiles on the face of my…
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Massacre
SometimesPretty things rustRight in front of you.
But you can’t really do anything to save themBecause the rustBuilds on the oxygen you breathe.
And one day every pretty thing you ever knewIs reduced to nothing but dustWhile all you do is consume more oxygen.
-YashasviArt by @hayleemorice
Day 3, poem 3
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Piece Of Mind
Someone once said“All great things in the world were once in someone’s mind”But doesn’t that hold for thoughts of all kindsGood and badGlorifying and belittlingEmpowering and unnerving
There are daysWhen I want all my thoughts to take shapeTransform into the material dimensionsBecome the tiny windowAnd serve as a peekhole into my mindJust because there’s so much beauty inside
But on most…
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Home
Being HomelessDoesn’t always mean not having a roofBecause brick roofsDon’t protect you from fear stormsGlass windowsDon’t hold back tsunamis of painAnd iron doorsDon’t barre tornadoes of rage
I’m homelessYet they say my house is very prettyUnguarded and afraidI walk through time each dayShaking, quiveringLike the wings of a landing pegionA hollownessUnderneath each howling breath
I need a…
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Modern Art
I spent my life painting a pictureOf me painting modern artBut they made modern art out of meModern art up for auction
All all pieces of art ever wantIs to end up at that big auctionSo they can hang in living roomsNumb inside, aesthetic outside
That’s when they realiseThey could’ve stayedWith paints that created themWith brushes that troubled
But they smileAct like they feel aliveThat’s what…
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Messy Parks
The walls are highAnd I’ve been low for a whileWant to move outBut I’m lost, caught up with life
Try to start every day afreshWith goals and plansThen cry while I enjoyWatching them moving to the trash
Chains I seeBut cannot let goPain I keepWithin me and pretend to grow
Been blowing awayAll that I shouldn’tUnderneath are earthquakesBut I tell everyone that its me dancing
Cold are my feetNumb…
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H.O.P.E.
Hold my secrets closeEmbrace the darkness I withholdLove my unhealable woundsSay I’m perfect, before I bloom
Open the treasureboxThe one with jewels from your pastShow me the rockYou hit, when you couldn’t pass
Play with my heartPlay slow, play fastStab me when I’m in the fallPull the strings, and play your cards
Etch my name in your soulFree me after I’m goneScream and screech till you’re…
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Twenty
When I was 13
Everyday I’d water my plants
And stare at petals and shiny leaves
Shiny leaves felt like so much more than biology
Biology, that treated them mechanically
When I was 15
Every weekend I’d sit under the stars, for hours
Wondering how much the black sky hides
Wondering how what is visible is just
A tiny tiny part of what actually is
When I was 17
Every day I’d find yet another reason to…
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Age
Image by my modern met
From tiny tender toes to grey-nailed dry feet,
From big ball eyes to wrinkled blinks,
From a prominent rising and falling chest to ever crouching shoulders,
And from a heart-warming palm grip to pale and heavy hands
What does it mean to age?
Celebrating youth because we know it’s not ours to keep,
Wandering frivolously because we know we’re going to die like all…
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Going Places
Photo by @pleshkova on Instagram
Every night I start my day
by going to bed
On Mondays, I’m in college,
Back to sipping iced-tea between lectures
And scribbling numbers to make up my assignments just before the deadline hour
On Tuesdays, I’m in school,
Stealing every possible chance to sneak to the corner of the class so I and my gang can play truth and dare
On Wednesdays, I’m in the pool,
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No Fake Empathy Please
No Fake Empathy Please
“Drop a text! I’m always here for you”
Everyone seems to be saying the same thing
Did anyone bother thinking
How sensitive a person going through depression is?
I’m not depressed
I just need someone to talk to
But if I reach out
Depression is what they’ll think I’m going through
How do I explain
I don’t want to be a part of the hype
I just want some real friends
So I can remind myself of a reason to…
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A Difference, A Similarity
A Difference, A Similarity
“Difference in color”
Is a difference
But so is a difference
In everything else that we are
A difference in how tall we measure
A difference in our ability to speak up
A difference in the places we go to
A difference in how much you and I can spend
A difference in what exists between our thighs
A difference that is deep seated in the blood that flows through our veins
Isn’t it?
You and I
Are different
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Am I afraid of people talking about me?
Or am I a hater of sympathy?
Do I wish for them to just have a pretty picture?
Or am I just too unprepared to answer?
Picture by @ellegramm
#quotes #poemoftheday #poetrybliss #writerscommunity #writersofinstagram #writers #originalpoem #bymepoetry #poetryisnotdead #poemsporn #wordporn #poems #art #instawrites #photooftheday
#anxiety #poetsoninstagram # #lockdown #dealingwithdepression
#poemsbyyashasvi #deadpoetssociety
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