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humpty *Dumb*ty
sat on a pit.
Thinkiing it was a throne
but still he strived.
He ruled that *keede*,
and sat in pride.
When he found,
It was a pit n not the throne
The lil dumbty
Cried for a chair,
Let me take one and rule the world!
Said the lil Humpty *dumb*ty.
Blah, blah, black sheep,
Have you any sense?
Yes sir, yes sir,
'm fool.
Once for the master,
next for the craps,
And one for the little moron
Who U r.
If anyone is offended,
thanks for the master,
thanks for the sheep.
Timid, lurky, idiot...
Oww my darloo'
Muaah!
In search of a definition for maturity, I thought less, *Pinterested* more. Coz wasting tym is anther kinda immaturity. The first post says- letting go is what maturity is. Then the second one says- realizing people’s situations is maturity. So, what if someone wants to leave u? Should u keep thinking, it’s just their situation or let them fuck outta yr lyf? It's a paradox hashh.
We all face it. Trs w'd teach u the value of 2+3, then ask what 3+2 equals on the exam sheet. Its all so insane until you realize it's the same thing.
Letting go = silence. Realizing people’s situations = silence. Being a crybaby just brings a cup of milk with extra stress and tension. Lmao. Text, sext, fuck, whatever u do, donn let yr peace shatter. Stop acting as if u r the oxygen n someone's life, live n let live.
People appear around me,
They talk behind me,
receiving my farts.
Like it's something sweet,
they devour it.
my gossh
'm so happy for it,
Let them talk,
bark, bark
n bark,
I’ll be ready to deal with them soon
a bowl of bones,
to keep them shut
at least for a while.
I always wondered,
what language does a moron speak?
to spill the secret,
I turned the mirror,
uttered a few notes.
N there I found my answer.
smiling with grace.
Things could’ve been diffrnt...
If that day was erased
but it's all good
As far as I know
a sweet reminder
of how we stay,
LIke forgotten crumbs,
In the cupboard.
I had this fear,
What if they don't acknowledge me?
What if they avoid my gaze,
What if they ignore my words?
Time passed,
So did I.
My actions are just an act,
A drama where I’m the artist.
The actors might forget their lines,
And that’s okay,
I don’t mind.
I'm ought to make my words,
whether they r noticed,
or not!
Who knows me well?
I looked at the mirror
Saw my reflection.
Took a pic
Yet the *me* remains
Unknown to me.
It’s deep,
way too deep
Harder to know
Yet still, it's good
Question that keeps
you going.
Plain yet decorated.
Simple yet Hard.
He made his usual cheeky look, teasing yet dominant.
I rolled my eyes as his rhythm matched the pace of our heat. I touched the top of his crown n collected the nectar- slipped it into my mow, owning it. Solely!
My slender body ached in pain as he rode my holes- that's y missionary is not so voluntarily preferred. Yet a lil pain yielded my wry labia smile, damp n cry.
He groaned as my moans were filling the sultry ambience.
Catching his heads, filling my clits, Once again, I dragged him towards me in a hurry.
I lay dead,
With grace,
A man in his thirties came,
And my soul cheered
-thinking of the mourns (not *moans*)
he was about to.
He stepped in,
teeth clenched,
Grinned in sorrow,
Sadly, yet with cheer,
I knew,
The one before me was my friend too.
*Cursing my view of people*-
I slept in peace!!
Sitting in the corner,
With a pen in hand,
Scribbling my day-
Scribbles turned to tears,
Tho
the tears spoke of my strength.
The day was perfect,
-Mix of cheers n pain,
shaping who I am-
within me n for the world.