Category: poetry
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IDENTITY CRISIS
there is dirty dishes in the sink from breakfast i half ate and stocked it in the refrigerator. i feel sick to my stomach, the medicine box on the cabinet now feels like a friend but now i am almost tiredof this nauseous nostalgiacirculating all the way to my gut. there’s a fine red Buddhist…
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she
she loved you like how a void would long for a touch. she loved you in between those second breathesand tick of second hand on clocks. but what more could a girl with a heart full of love be in this diabolical worlddrowning in wrath of men who refuses to heal from the warthey bred…
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You looked so beautiful and how dearly I wished you were dead.
you asked me if i also wrote poetries, if i were also one of those lonely people in the world who persistently ached for the universe and subtlety fell in love with the strangers they walked across and never found them again. you stood in front of me with your eyes so full of life…
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My first love was ‘loneliness’
when people ask me who was my first love, i reply ‘loneliness’ and then there a miserable silence in both of our lips. they usually leave in an awe—quite unaware how someone can actually love something as horrible as loneliness. some think it’s a lie because i regret my first love. i just like to…