writeweird

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A product of abstraction ig community: @writeweird

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  • writeweird 1w

    there's nothing as joyless as watching a poet struggle.

    -- unknown



    #poem #despair #dark #thoughts
    #free #verse #scattered #spiral
    #incoherent #break #painting #cold
    #room #wait #rough #draft #anarchy

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    crying for september: an incoherent piece by a fragile mind

    fold me in threads
    a thousand pieces alike

    carve me instead
    of setting the sun alight

    -- defiled.

    there's always more than i
    seek in my head

    if i hold my breath
    cut my throat

    i love you so

    maybe I'll kill myself
    next tuesday

    there's a storm on
    the offering

    by the window

    i wonder if this
    month will ever end

    how about tomorrow
    when it is sunny and
    bright

    all things considered
    i don't think i prefer the blue
    skies anymore

    maybe something more
    grey and tired

    like an autumn afternoon just
    before the winter

    whence the air is crisp
    and there's ambient silence

    like a painting you cannot
    stop staring at

    maybe it is september
    i cry for after all

    i hope it's not october.


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 2w

    there's no title for despair

    as old as summer days
    and now i must grieve

    there's a morning to tend to
    another nightmare to cry

    that old tv occupies far too space
    in my mind

    collecting dust and silence in
    words i do not yet know how to speak

    maybe I'll talk to myself
    next tuesday

    there's a storm on
    the offering

    they say walls can listen
    you scream

    but no one ever visits this
    rusty old house

    where the night falls ever
    the same

    and people go to sleep
    as if nothing has ever happened

    perhaps it's not my story
    that the world cares for

    nor am i his favorite child and
    the thought scares me

    what if there's no one
    to pray to

    on a day you have much
    to pray for


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 4w

    purple//her

    wait for me before you disappear, hold
    -- you had my heart
    take from me everything i swear, all your memories and all your scars

    so, you were my summer's sun,
    winter's cold --
    you were the mountains, rivers
    that have cut me sharp

    you were my crowded streets,
    my only hope --
    arms to grow old, quiet nights
    with no stars

    maybe if the world wasn't so small
    we'd never fallen apart

    maybe if the words weren't so cruel
    we'd never fallen apart

    and the fire would've found
    it's way to the sparks,

    before the lights go out.

    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 8w

    good children do as they're told

    how do you breathe
    when you're falling through
    the night ?

    crashing into the lonely
    hours, folding into the
    emptiness

    how do you tell yourself
    it's just the road that's endless

    and there's no way back home
    now that you're old

    once young, how the wilderness
    grows into the cold

    winter seeps through the walls
    and it melts into your soul

    how the autumn swallows
    every leaf that never was

    child once, now all of the
    windows are boarded, closed

    good children always do
    the things they're told

    good children always do
    the things they're told

    good children always find
    a way back home

    before the night can take
    them apart and expose,

    how little there is to
    live for.


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 13w

    singing lessons

    the bird doesn't sing in my head anymore

    and all its songs are now just a bad memory that occupies the deep abyss in the dark walls of my days and

    the nights, I spend looking at the ceiling waiting for something to happen, just anything -- here -- in this dark room where I've been trying to sleep since many a countless hours

    and minutes that keep dissolving into months and years and thoughts that never seem to die

    no matter how many times I've tried to slit my throat and wrists and hope

    there's just enough for now to keep myself from indulging all my despair

    for I still know the words, not enough for a song, but just enough to keep me company as I spiral in and out of boredom,

    i should've learnt how to sing.


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 14w

    untitled cafe

    how many times have I sat in a cafe alone

    empty chairs to keep me company.

    with a brave face, and tensed brows

    trying to look past the hazy blur that
    seems to have caught me in trance.

    sipping on the bitter coffee
    to remind me there's something
    to live for

    and finish before I leave here, be gone for maybe what could be my last time

    of sitting alone in a cafe, of people and chatter to keep me company,


    I used to like it here.


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 14w

    of the old yesterdays

    where the day end's

    look at home,

    the night is dark
    and yet forgetful

    warm room with
    bodies sound asleep

    cosy air breathes
    through the windows

    as the leaves fall
    somewhere in the future

    and a rainy day
    is on the offering

    carelessly stoking
    arms of the clock

    it's a shelter still
    this warm room

    filled with things
    that will be --

    old and dying,

    as the leaves fall
    somewhere in the future

    for enough springs have
    come to pass

    now that i sit here
    looking at old photographs,

    visiting home.


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 15w

    kiss the dark

    i watch you sleep
    as you cry your tears today

    oh, how i wish one of us
    could've escaped

    there's so much to live
    for outside these walls

    not like home, where the
    heavy air won't let us breathe

    coiled up in your unforgiving
    arms, i want to forget

    how i beg you to let me in
    your dreams, i want to bleed
    all my love away

    until there's nothing left
    of me, and of you

    nothing but the sleep.

    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 17w

    i just want things to be easy

    i got my head checked
    it was full of insects

    i'd rather it be empty
    i just want things to be easy

    i saw the world end on the tv
    now i can't sleep i feel dreamy

    i'm on my bed
    i hope they don't see me

    i should stop talking
    and pay my respect

    but i got my heart wrecked
    trying to find a suspect

    i suspect it won't be easy
    they took my eyes when i wasn't looking

    i can hear them from the insides
    but i can't look in

    i can taste what they're smoking
    it's so soothing

    it's making me hungry
    i've never been more thirsty

    i want what they have
    i want what they provide

    i just want things to be easy
    i want them to eat me

    i saw the world end on the tv
    there's nothing outside


    ©writeweird

  • writeweird 22w

    peace is a privilege not everybody can afford.
    #dark #Gaza #Pain #Suffering #Peace #Violence

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    God is watching

    God is watching,

    tell this to the father
    who stares at his dead children

    tell this to the daughter
    trying to wake her mother

    tell this to the brother
    still holding on to his young sister,
    crying inconsolably;

    tell this to the mother
    holding on to one shoe and no hope

    God is watching,

    tell this to the city
    found in rubble and ash

    tell this to the river
    coated in deep red and by
    the tears of the innocent

    tell this to the sky
    that smells of smoke and sorrow

    tell this to the world
    watching in silence

    tell this to everybody
    you'll meet today and tomorrow

    tell this to God
    if you ever find him

    God is watching ?

    for all our sakes,
    I hope not.


    ©writeweird