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Alicha Du Plooy Poem
Memory Loss
Motivated by thought,
realised mistreated actions.
I owe it to myself,
to know I am enough.
Who do you think you are,
to make me doubt
my fire
that burns to bright
for you to desire.
How strong can you then be,
if you can't handle me?
So I have a memory loss
of you and me
a stranger that ones
walked passed me.
Copyright © Alicha Du Plooy | Year Posted 2016
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Alicha Du Plooy Poem
You don't always have control over your own body, especially when you breath is trying to strangle you.
Your heart is trying to run away
And your chest just won't allow it.
You are in a battle to try to breath
But the ribs are murders.
Kill the heart they scream.
You are at war with your intire being
As you fight of the tears that just started running.
Its burning lines down your cheeks,
Making it in possible to see.
Your hand are trying to keep the peace
Helping to dry the blush that they wanted to keep.
The mascara went and done it,
Graffiti everywhere, its a mess of black paint in the lines the tears left.
You would think its a horror story, but you will see, its just a nothing unhappy
Love story.
Copyright © Alicha Du Plooy | Year Posted 2016
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Alicha Du Plooy Poem
Ghostly foot Prints
There are ghostly foot prints of the past.
Graves not visited and no farewells.
Not knowing the resting place to say goodbuy.
There is nothing to cling to, no special item to put in a treasure chest.
Memories faded like pencil on the paper.
There is ghostly foot prints of the past and shady faces of reality long lost
Image of little hands
Clinging to a toy bear.
There was letters, but that is gone,
Lost years packed in a box.
If there was a map to where you rest,
With so many questions
and the tortured mind of never knowing the answers.
Unfinished business of the living and the dead can't speak.
I will have a glas jar filled with crave sand.
That is all you ever was,
A memory like a faded dream
In a glass jar, some where thats no where.
Locked in a box.
Copyright © Alicha Du Plooy | Year Posted 2016
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Alicha Du Plooy Poem
Silver nights and paper Swans
In dark spaces where fireflies use to glow.
Why the cruelty of smelling the rain, only to feel no wetness on my face.
I miss the feeling of the moonlight on my skin.
The Thunder keeps me up all night, but I don't mind that it's my blissful insomnia.
A little swan made of paper to many times you cut me with your edges, so I will burn you.
Goodbye paper cuts left by tiny paper shaped swans
I smell the rain again and this time I will feel it on my face, I will spin around and around in my rainy shower.
I love you I will whisper to a tree, I only dream of knowing all the secrets that you keep.
Copyright © Alicha Du Plooy | Year Posted 2016
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