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M Jun 2015
I think I am a mockingbird
I wait for others to react
So I can match them
If I spend so much time mimicking
*What is my real personality?
M Jun 2015
i fell from my dreams.
descended to the cold earth.
and was pulled six feet under.
.
.
.
.
.
.
my heart had stopped forever.
M Jun 2015
I
am lonely
with a vile mouth
wailing unspeakable lies
with sinister, lurking demons
whispering your hidden horrors
I
am lonely
M Jun 2015
I want to sink
To the bottom of the ocean
To discover something new
And to never come back

To lay in the dark
Buried in the mud and rock
To be welcomed by the earth
And to never come back
M Jun 2015
Twisted fingers
From longer, more twisted arms
Leading to your monster

They reach to grab you
To pull you in
To sink it's fingers into skin

But then you blink
And it's all gone
And you wonder if it was ever there

Until next time
Your monster is back
Its strike more deadly than the last
M Jan 2016
My words paint the world in sullen hues
A far cry from the expected ruse
On the outside my instinct is to smile
But on the inside I surely am vile
I view the worst, most hope for better
Everyone realizes *"I never should have met her"
M Jun 2015
I'm scared by the lack of monsters under my bed.

Because if they aren't there now,

When will they be back?
M Aug 2015
Showing how I feel seems so pretentious and narcissistic
That by showing real feeling I am showing something meant to never be shown
M Jun 2015
I feel like I am filled with paper
All space is occupied inside
But the cuts still burn
M Jun 2015
I have always liked horror stories,
but you're my favorite.
M Jun 2015
I wanted to grab your hands as they left me
But I knew
The absence
Was better left unrecognized

You recognize my face in a crowd
Your presence
Is unacknowledged by me
Because we both know
I let your hands leave
M Jun 2015
I think I love the stars so much
because they remind me
how small I am
and how weakly I shine
M Jun 2015
I'm not very good at anything
Though I am a perfectionist
Finding myself below the best
In everything I do
I tell myself I don't need the satisfaction of Others
And that is the most substantial lie
I have ever told
M Jun 2015
I've never loved
And I don't think I ever will
Too afraid to share my feelings
Even to myself
M Jun 2015
I think the stars
In my eyes
Have blinded me
M Jun 2015
I am trapped behind
The pale, sky blue bars that line
My blank notebook page

Fed empty words
And decorated, flawed lies
That hold no meaning
M Jan 2018
Look to your right                                                                                            

                                                                                                            Your left
Shake their hand
Say your name

Lace your arms together
Hold on

Shakes your body                                                                                            
                                                                                             Shakes your soul
Shakes your hand
used to write poetry as a kid on this site-- now coming back as an English major in college studying poetry to share my growth -- share some words
M Jun 2015
I think poets run the world
with charming words
and pleasant phrases
charisma pouring from their pens
from their keyboards and their mouths
sweet-talking the most stubborn of foes
controlling others with honeyed comments
and sweeter observations
M Jun 2015
I think my pen
is better suited
to long strokes
to graceful arcs
to ink that bleeds across the page
than the shorter marks I make
when I am short with you
Sit
M Jan 2018
Sit
Sit, stare at wildflowers
Humans have no roots
Chaining us to
Soil
Nothing to save us
From life's trampling boots
As We sit and watch the wildflowers
M Jan 2016
My constant stress is wearing me down
My skin is composed of the sands of time
Slipping away
Wearing through the wooden floorboards
Buried with secrets and covered with lies
M Jul 2015
Is it time to say goodbye?
Or do I lie?
To both you,
And I
M Jun 2015
The hands around my neck
Grip me tightly with a refusal to release
Pleading to callus littered hands
Pleading to a more callous owner
But when I look to my neck
To see these vicious hands
I only find
My own
M Jun 2015
I think you are a cavity
In the way that everything that led to now
Was sweet
But now I can't get rid of you
And you are just a sore
M Jun 2015
I want sleep to drag me under
Force my eyes closed
Lay like a weight on my chest
So I can finally be at rest
M Jun 2015
My skin is a story
To be read to completion
Every page holding meaning
And every word being told
M Jun 2015
from the stories we read
we're always told
the villian is the one who does wrong
but who gets to decide
what is wrong and what is right?

Why should your morals be the best
Why should your morals matter more
Why are your morals
the ones that
matter?

— The End —