• _aradhya 23w

    Ah yes.

    @thefoxisdead when I read too much of you, this is what happens :) thanks to your piece for introducing the word "dilapidated".

    @samarlexis @dusky_dawn @morsel @jerry_21

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    The Pleasant Dilapidated Poetries

    I feel like my poetries
    Are composed of this hope
    Which does not liberate you
    From your sufferings.
    Rather, it puts you in a more desolated place
    Filled with denial, non-acceptance;
    A place where you go astray from reality.
    I try to fill these abstract emotions
    In spaces and gaps
    Where the devil already resides.
    I learned a new word today, dilapidated.
    According to Google,
    "It is a state of disrepair, or ruin,
    As a result of age or
    And isn't this how all my poetries are?
    Broken, ruined,
    Neglected from the truth
    Weaving a web of lies.
    Oh and darling, the lies are always written
    The truths are always ugly.
    The lies are always satisfactory because
    The truths are always undesirable.

    And vice versa.

    So when you lock the door
    And sit down to read my poetries
    To feel safe, to feel something close to warmth
    I know it's not the warmth you feel,
    It's the heat of the fire that is
    Slowly and steadily reaching you
    And will come and burn down your palace
    Reeking with kerosene's smell
    Which my words silently spread.
    But the scariest part about this,
    Is the fact that I know
    What a perfect delusional reality
    My poetries make.
    And I still continue to write them.
    Because honey, these delusional realities
    Aren't just a coping mechanism for me,
    But they are for you too.
    Though they prepare you for your own Ragnarok, your own doomsday,
    You still read them and believe
    That there might be some hope left for you
    To avoid you from slitting your wrist
    Or hanging and choking yourself.
    If you've reached here
    And still haven't walked away
    It's too late for you to walk away.
    So when I write something defining false hope next time
    You'll come back, crawling.
    To my happy starting and my happy endings
    And read it over and over again
    Because you love to believe that endings can be happy too.

    As for this one,
    You'll not read it again
    Because it does not end happy
    And it is plainly the truth
    You've been trying to avoid.