Jungle living
It's been sneaking and slivering in the shadows,
crawling it's been climbing as it quietly follows.
Scented, flowered, honed the starvation within,
stalking waiting for the moment to jump in.
Critter these creatures blind to the eyes,
poisoned bites in shadows waiting for the dies.
The feelings they give off make one quiver,
leave one a meal as a shadows life giver.
Here where the poison often tries,
jungle living being creature wise,
watching ones steps as the shadows grow.
Aware of the poisons the jungle knows.
Worth it
Your worth it only if they say it.
when you think about worth you want it.
It means nothing as it's a label,
just like the thought of it is a fable.
An achievement, something to strive for,
a figureless notion to suggest or implore.
An opinion from inward and outward,
a reason to give and lay it out toward,
a value given to who you are,
when taken worry leaves its scar.
Don't let yourself be price dragged,
don't let your value be miss tagged,
and this is not needed to be a view,
not needed to be said to or by you.
It's not worth it.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline)
- Published: September 20th, 2025 06:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Comments1
I detect struggle and strife in these poems where it is tough fighting against the odds. Nicely done
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