samir
Whisper
Syrian
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My neck broken / Forehead kisses the back of my hand as my stature silhouettes / "The Thinker"
29
Nov 20, 2015
I remember my being a romantic
...or at least being under the naive guise of youth, tainted with the dementia of infatuation / What if I really believed you were my one and only? / What if my love for you is as real as it ever was?
35
Nov 20, 2015
The Prodigiousness of Youth, the Apathy of Existence
For dead is where I begin, Indebted. / & that is where I’ll stay, / Despite the way I feel today
27
Aug 29, 2014
♫○•◙◘☺♦♣♠♥♀♂☼☻☺☼♂♀ ♥♠♣♦☻ ◘◙•○♫
**JUDGE ME** / http://hellopoetry.com/poem/bpd-artistry/ / http://hellopoetry.com/poem/polygonal-me/
23
Feb 7, 2014
They really should stop saying
that beauty's only skin deep... / so while one little girl's crying has now stopped / it has transferred to the one with acne beneath her?
29
Jan 23, 2013
If you are reading this I have buried myself alive in my head...
These down times are what really make a person... / I will put an end to this... somethings gotta give... / victim of circumstance and while I'd stay and keep trying...
17
Jan 23, 2013
Death of My Dreaming
I woke up cold in a dark house, not a home / I woke up in a cold sweat all alone. / I don’t know why I even woke up at all…
24
Jan 19, 2013
***** Jersey
***** Jersey / You are unworthy / From the infamous Jersey shore
22
Dec 10, 2012
The perspiration of aspiration is indefinite.
Maybe it was my ADHD or my Bipolar or both, but as a child I would put in my headphones and just pretend I’m living… this is what I did for fun, I would put my headphones on over my ears and wear a beanie to keep them from falling off. I would put on something with sickk drums and a kick *** guitar, grab my skateboard and push wood. Synchronized with the music of course, this was more convincing to me that I was not in my life, but that I was in this fictional reality. This reality didn’t even need to be better, it just needed to be not my life; but it always was, better that is. If I didn’t have my skateboard I would interpret the song and either skip to it, walk rhythmically to it, or rock out somewhere; it depended on the song really. This was my first drug and I could not understand why nobody else wanted to live the way I was living… the only thing I wished different is for the music to play out loud and not only in my head as this tended to make me feel self-conscious or awkward in the supermarket or at public places in general. / I needed spectacular lenses nearing my middle school days due to my incessantly close music video watching. I needed to feel as if I were there with them so I would sit right in front of the TV set. I even went as far as to grow my hair out and part it evenly to both sides so as to black out my peripheral vision. I consumed music and art that went along with it as if I were a ****** I truly believed the singers in the videos were where I wanted to be, they understood me, their words taught me the truth, their music lifted my spirits, their presence kept me company, kept me sane. They taught me everything my parents should have. They were my angels, my saviors. They taught me about freedom and expression. I began writing, singing, acting, dancing, philosophizing, creating art, creating art through life. / Life became a music video, and I became the voice, my emotions the music, my brain the lyrics, my character a poet, personifying sacrifice. I couldn’t understand why everyone else was so BORING! Why they didn’t see me there skipping down the street and run to catch up with me and say, “hey, what are you doing?” … or something along those lines. I didn’t understand why I was alone still in this new world.
4
Dec 10, 2012
Chapter never look back.
Dear all of the above, / Why do you ridicule me so? / Severity, Severity, more than you’d ever know
52
Dec 10, 2012
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