All poems found containing the word really
Jojo "I really would do anything for you"

I would do
Anything
To be loved.
I would jump
And ask how high.
I would change
My appearance
However you like.
I can be quiet
I can be loud
I can be funny
I can be serious.
I could wear makeup
I could go bare.
Change my clothes
Cut my hair.

I really would do anything for you

Unfortunately it means I have a hard time
Learning to be me.

Jessie Storm "But really the space between was to let you in."

I'm always falling for girls who are arrows shot through the hearts of prodigal sons.

You've been in my head for days.
I've been clinging to your later
Like a shipwrecked sailor
Clings to the shattered bow
As the ocean tries to swallow him whole.
You swallowed me whole,
And you barely even opened your mouth;
Just wide enough for me to taste honey
And see stars that have been three nights creating haloes around my drunken head.

But you'll only hold my hand in the shadows;
You'll only ask me how I am if you know the answer will be
I'm fine
not
I've got you under my skin
But you're under it, girl.
You're seven layers deep,
And suddenly you're rushing through my bloodstream
And filling my body with a five-dime dream
That is only of your face.
Everyone knows that web of red veins
All lead back to the heart.

So I'm putting up fences
But leaving gaps between the posts
So when you’ve circulated my system
and I can feel you tingling electricity in every one of my cells
It’ll look like the bars I’ve put up were to keep you out
But really the space between was to let you in.
I’ll be shining a light so bright that maybe you’ll grow powdered wings
and flutter towards me like a moth who can’t ignore the flame for even one more second.

You’re more like a butterfly though.
When I look at you I see every colour;
I see grace and beauty, and in your voice I hear a melody so sweet it makes me wonder
whether you’re a girl,
Or if maybe you’re a songbird.
Maybe you build a new nest every night
From twigs and feathers and broken hearts.

You showed me a cutting of your old boyfriend’s hair
That you keep in your wallet
Because you dream of recreating him.
I thought if I knew how I’d make an army of this boy for you,
I’d carve his face from limestone
And give him blossoms for eyes
But I’d give him my lips,
So that when you kissed him I’d taste you.

  And it’s not like I’d make you,
But inside my head we’re every day making each other laugh;
We’re every day running through dappled fields,
Calling each other’s names,
Smelling each other’s hair.
It’s the sweetest thing.
That’s all I really want to say
Is that you make me smile and dream,
And sometimes I’m looking at your face
For just a bit longer than you’re looking at mine,
And in the half-light I think,
Isn’t she beautiful.

jeffrey robin "Really"

Death

(The holy breath and you're free)
-----

They came and told you everything

But in high school....
Who cares!

-----
Makin love in the back seat

(Pictures on Facebook )
------

Buddha

__
------------

(One touch of grace and you're free)
..

Holy breath

Do not fear
Death

And you're free
---
Really

Do not fear
Death and you're free

Michael Holderreed "And here time really sets in."

Uncaring minutes are but passersby
disregarding my wails.
They hear me; they offer no help.
The bastards.
Though, with only sixty seconds to exist,
why would they stop for me?

The hours pound against my skull with intent to smash their way in.
Such constant clangor resonates through my consciousness
disturbs my ego,
dislodges regrets,
the agitation seems to sieve out
tiny jealousies from among other thoughts.

The Days...
Oh those god-damned Days.
They see me confused and seize their chance;
they pull out my feet
right from under my frame,
and helpless, hurt,
I collapse to the earth.
And here time really sets in.

The Months form gangs called 'Years'
and The Years take their turn
breaking my joints, my fingers, my knees,
all my snappable, crackable points.
Curved, crippled,  and creaking,  
I languish in fantasies of what's supposed to be,
oh, and the 'might-have-beens'.

Time makes things worse.

A dark shadow moves over me.
I look up  as far as a heavy, beaten head will allow
only to see the massive, soul-crushing weight of the decades
seating their backside;
oppressively,
down to rest upon my twig-like spine.

And throughout the abuse,
I crawl, cringe, cower
as safe as can be in a low lying state on the ground,
(which is still six feet too high for all that time cares!)
I hear from somewhere afar
an unfaltering decree
from my maker to me
"Stand up straight! For Heaven's sake!"

Clarissa Riojas "ile and tell you "one bad apple doesn't really spoil the bunch."  I'll smile and I'll"

You were mine before you were born.  You belonged to me.  Before your daddy and I shared a cherry coke at the dollar theater.  Before I said yes.  To anything.  To everything.  You were mine.  And I held you for the first time at 2:38am.  Your face scrunched and red.  Still the nurses said:

“She is so beautiful.”

Even before then,

You were mine.

And your pain, your struggles, your burdens would be mine.  To carry.  To burry.  I lift and will lift the world for you, baby girl.  Put you to sleep.  Hold you as you weep.  For that boy who will shatter your heart to pieces.  I will pull the hair from your cheeks, wet with your tears.  As you cry to me that love, “Mom, love isn’t real.”

And I’ll smile and tell you “one bad apple doesn’t really spoil the bunch.”  I’ll smile and I’ll say “I know that much” – because I was there too.  Before the flat cherry cokes and your daddy’s corny little jokes.  Love is as real and true as I am me and you are you.  And it was here.  You were here.  Before you even existed.  You were mine, growing in my heart.  

Love was mine, growing in my heart.

And before you fall asleep in your bed, soon after the tears have all been shed. I will tell you this: “I have learned to keep my heart tender.  To love wisely; but know when to surrender.  The way I surrendered with you.  I have learned to claim love as my own.  And your love, baby girl, is the best thing I’ve ever known.”

You have always been mine.

Gulnaz Khan "my heart never really had a limit at all,"

I probably never meant anything
to you in the first place darling.
I probably have gotten attatched
with no promises to look forward with.
I probably didn't have even the smallest
place in your broken and torn heart.
I probably gave you a reason for all those
days you purposely ignored me as payback.
I probably substituted your true beautiful lover
maybe I kept her spot nice and warm for later.
I probably loved you unknowingly quickly,
my heart never really had a limit at all,
especially when it came to you.
g.k

Hodgins "What if none of this really matters"

How do you tell someone that they’re not real
Politely?
Quietly?
I don’t know what to do anymore
What if none of this really matters
What if we’re all going to be okay
Because I’m not real
And you’re not real
But how do you say that because we aren’t actually human
We’re just pretending
Because life is about the things that we don’t understand
We don’t see
But why can’t anyone tell me how to tell them I don’t experience
What I’m supposed to because
I’m not real
And you’re not real
And reality is just an illusion because we don’t really exist
And humans are just a concept
And life is just a fleeting idea in the mind of something we can’t even begin to understand
Because we’re not real
I’m not real
I don’t understand and I can’t see with all this dust around me
Dust kicked up by the thousands of feet
All copies of the same feet marching
Oh god we’re not real we all have the same feet look at your feet
How do I say this because we aren’t real so we can’t listen and we can’t hear
Is it polite to tell someone that their entire life is false?
Can it be done quietly?
We’re all going to be okay I swear to god
Because in a thousand other places we don’t exist
And in two thousand more we are okay already
So the odds say that we’re likely to be okay here
Because we’re already okay somewhere
I swear to god
But in the long run it probably doesn't matter anyway because there is no long run
Because I’m not real
I’m not real and I can’t see oh god there’s so much dust
All I can hear is the marching
I’m not real
I’m a thought in a bubble in a cloud in the dirt
I can’t be real because they told me reality wasn’t like this
But then when I hear you speak
Why do I hear humanity’s voice
When I read those words
Your words
Why can I feel the idea creeping politely
quietly
Into my mind that I might be a real person
Because this isn’t supposed to happen
Oh god, not to just a thought
Not to a mere figment
My feet are itchy
This isn’t supposed to happen
Not to a lie
Not to a lie like me

Alex "I really do.."

What am I supposed to say?
That I love you?
It's kinda hard to say that
And mean it too.
When you list the reasons why
I should love you,
They're all physical.
Shelter,
Food,
Clothes.
Mother, dear,
I need love.
I need to know you're there for me.
Actually there for me.

Mom,
I've never heard you say,
"I'm proud of you, love."
All I hear is negative things.
"why couldn't you do this?"
"why couldn't you clean that?"
"you never do anything!"
"sure you did this but why couldn't you do this too?"
I try mom
I really do..

If my grades are good and the house is clean,
I'm ugly.
If I'm pretty and my grades are good,
The house is dirty.
If I'm pretty and the house is clean,
My grades are bad.

I'm sorry I'm not what you wanted..
I'm sorry I can't live up to your expectations..
I'm sorry that I'm a disappointment..
Please forgive me.
Please love me.
Please, just be my mom..

Corey Christ Lyrical Worship "Do we really understand this heaven thing.."

We are  to watch the Throne...
Not stand by as pagans throw rocks at the Throne..
Talking bout there's no church for the wild
But last time I  check it was for the sick and spiritually shut down..
Those with no self control..
Those that don't know their role..
Those that have gained the world but at the sake of losing their souls
Followers aligned with the Rock of Ages...
How dare I pledge allegiance to a country yet along a Roc nation..
My Christ all white everything..
No spot no wrinkle all white wedding scene..
Every time a soul says Yes the heavens sing
Do we really understand this heaven thing..
I am talking no sin..
Peace no need for protection
No violence..no need for a weapon..
One body no racial selection..
Christ is the way to acceptance.
Hell is the place for those that reject him..
Do we really understand this hell thing.
Flesh burns fumes of sulfur dioxide
Thirsty no existence of hydroxide
Feel pain like death but cannot die..
Like swallowing a grenade destruction of your insides..
Heaven and Hell two completely different places..
Different thrones ..
Different homes.
Bliss versus eternal pain
Taking hollow tips to the dome .
Over and over again
An eternal spin cycle of torment..
We all are created with a purpose but it lays dormant..
Its sleep imagine purpose snoring..
Christ the alarm clock imagine purpose soaring  . .
To some this poem is boring..
Its not about me or you, its about Gods glory...
Now I speak truth no stories.  
God loves me he gives out the authority
So if I die today ..
With my footprints erased..
God creates everything I can surely be replaced..
I cling to Heaven.. Reject Hell ..
Live on earth
Walking with God..
You know there's two births..
With him two life's
Through Christ the only true right.
Watch the throne day and night..
I trust Faith and question my sight

Delaney Blue "A past that will never really leave me"

I look down at my palette, and see the paints melting together.
I remember when we were like that,
colouring the canvas with life.
You were the deep, dark blue of an ocean at night,
and I was the grey of clouds.
You brought vividness to me,
and turned my dull hue to vibrance.
So how did we get like this?
The painter’s brush mixed us too far,
turning our kaleidoscope into a jumbled mess.
Murky brown, and unusable,
unable to be separated.
We’ve become so close our colours have merged
and we are no longer separates.
Wherever I go I take some of you with me.
Dragged across the canvas behind me,
like an afterthought.
The trail of a comet.
A past that will never really leave me
because by now it’s a part of me.
It’s second nature
to think of you when my mind wanders
and to reach for your hand without thought.
You’ve changed me forever
and I can never go back
to a time before you
before us.
But why would I want to?

 
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