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The tongue of the PeasantBecame the tongue of the Noble,The Noble tongue was then madeThe tongue of the Ruler.Yet when the Tongue was tetheredAnd the Head was severed,The language remains,Still without chains. – Maya Desdemona
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Star light, Star bright,Could you be a heavenly delight?Antipodal to the cumbersome day,The righteous Sun, and the adroit way.Detached from this world you may be,Yet you shine for us to see,Oh star light, star bright,Never lose your shine tonight. – Maya Desdemona
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Remember you must die,No matter how hard you tryYou must swallow your prideAnd simply enjoy your life.Remember you must live,In spite of your imminent deathThe Soul has not left the body yetSo celebrate every day before death. – Maya Desdemona
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“Can I go to sleep now?”My mom said not to,And dad said do.But mom is sleepingIn a big, red puddle,And everything hurts.But mom won’t wake upTo kiss it better,So I guess I’ll go to sleep now. – Arsh
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This rat race that We are trapped in, Feels inescapable, Immutable.”Remember the bright side!” Nameless, faceless voices chant when shoving Their positivity down your throat, Restricting.”Is this marketable?” seems to be The only question all art is asked, Stifling soul and creativity, Conforming.This rat race that we Live our lives in, Is all that we
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Frail mortality, you have Failed in your self-proclaimed journey,Chasing immortality.Enduring mortality, yet youContinue to persist on your relentless quest,Afraid of dying.Fleeting mortality, though you areEphemeral, you are incandescent, In your brief time,Showing your resilience. – Arsh
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In every breath I take,I only fill my emptinessWith airFor a brief while.A longer release from this nameless burden that sits over me,Would really be appreciated, you see?I cannot breathe in for too long,The weight returns with a spiking pain,As painful as a somber memory…Without name and cause,This burden rests above my chest,Yet from there
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Sweet Nocturne,She needs not the light of day,Nor the labours that do not pay,For with her she has numerous nebulae,That keep her at bay. She is oft mistaken with coldness and death,But in her darkness one finds a hearth,A truly limitless rebirth,Yet one that blazes with solace. It needs no lightAnd does not burn too
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Draped with jewellery and Precious gold covering All imperfections, Can allOur finery cover the rot? – Arsh