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Xaela San
I'm not "smart" like them.

I'm not "bright" as them.

I'm not "confident" like them.

I'm not "beautiful" as them.

I'm not "someone" like them.

Can you just accept that?

I don't like crying myself anymore

-Said myself in the mirror.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Sitting here in the dark with streams of tears flowing down
Here I am
My real self
The person who I really am
Not the person I only pretend to be in the light of day
In the dark
I feel safe
I feel open
I feel broken
I feel like me
It's hard to pretend to be someone your not
tell me the truth. what makes you beautiful?
is it your hair?
how about your eyes?
maybe your thighs?
could it be your lips?
or could it be the way you dip?
whatever it is, you are beautiful, inside and out
poetry tells us the beauty of the world. but what about the beauty of the writer? what makes you beautiful?
Raj Bhandari
Life is dealing with people with attitude!
Wednesday, January 17, 2018

You were like snow
You looked so pure & clean
But when you touched me, you stung
You were ***** &  cold
Hard to breathe, hard to see
Black like coal
You were just like snow
Gray Ndiaye
An ocean lies between us
Mirroring the peace
I have searched deserts for
The further away from you
I am
The further away from my memory
You go
she soaks herself in his hurt
and it d
     ­       s                

of him
ever so slowly,
infecting her.
all she wanted was for him to be
so he could live without pain
but now, she thinks
living is pain.
Stained Glass
They say that birds born in a cage, think flying is an illness.
You have not yet read

My best.
I shall retire upon my royalties.
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"keep your eyes closed love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do"

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
" Are you okay? " They asked
I didn't know how to answer
anxiety couldn't help but over think
and depression checked out
- until next time
the title is the date I wrote this poem in class.
hope you enjoyed it.
جسے پال رھے تھے آج وہ جوان ھوا ھے
اس لئیے تیری طرف اس کا دھیان ھوا ھے
وہ تجھے چھوڑ کر غیر کا میزبان ھوا ھے
کفر سے بڑھ کر یہاں کفر کا اعلان ھوا ھے
Willow SR
I love you
Even if you don't care
I love you
Even through my despair
I love you
Even if you're never there
But I mostly love you
For the times
You looked me in the eyes
And I saw your presence there
I had coffee and a cigarette for breakfast
So yeah I'm doing fine
I've become good at taking weight off of other peoples shoulders
Searching for happiness in everything
Her mind is a cage, soul trapped and chained.
"And you,
my dear lady
are the poem.
I just give it voice."
And I could recite it evermore.
I'm scared to hear the answer
So dare I even ask
If I disappeared tomorrow
Who would even care?
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
You get so alone at times that it just makes sense.
You see her beauty
where she does not lie
That’s her only disguise.
got to eat them as they darken
reddened ruby to black constant opal
berries will rot quickly if you don’t
or they’ll taste real gooey and wierdy
if you let the drupelets’ colors get
unsynchronized like summer and fall

...why am i telling you this?
because i learned that the hard way
and the days go away in the gleam
heavy showers and peak-a-boo sun
the east barely bracing for the storm
and the sweetness decaying like the leaves
o this is so sad, alexa play despacito

Daily #3 baybeeeeee how tf does this website work
Greg Piegari
Have you ever had the feeling of wanting to be the glue, the structure, the foundation. That intense yearning and pull to be everyone’s someone.
Have you ever felt like what it’s like to be me?
You tend to me
in a way
no one else has before,
letting me grow
Kora Sani
i anchor
to the back
of your mind
you wish
me away
but here
i still linger
Veda Laurenski
You are the sea.
You are cruel.
You are cold.
And I love you.
I’m done bending over backwards for people
Who then ignore me when they see me wave
drenched in sweat
worn out, exhausted
tears fake sympathy
artificial feelings
trespass reality
reset simulation
savor all of the pain
the beating of your heart
now stop
living torture
living is a torture
Mirror mirror, off the wall
Ego shattered by the fall

Mirror mirror, underneath
Plays a tongue that bites the teeth

Mirror mirror, open sky
Wings to make an ocean fly

Mirror mirror, in your eye
I'm a tear and here I die
Inspired by a.p.

Mirror mirror
on the floor
Careful who
you call a *****
all my life
i've been preparing faces
to meet the faces that
i've met

the man who delivers newspapers
at our doorstep each morning

i've laughed at their silly jokes
as they tossed their heads from side to side
in naive stupidity and their sheer ignorance
a pompous lot, the human race i tell you

i've acknowledged their staunch morals
and tried to make them my own
as they scorned at the girl in a skimpy dress
and chewed on mutton bones gluttonously

all my life, i've been trying hard
to blend in
with people who've shown me
that i don't belong with them

and tonight when i shed gallons of tears
i have only my bed and pillow to share
i've learnt that my sadness
is my very own
just a sad girl writing to survive
the one with messy brown hair
brown eyes
with you birthmark over the left side of your face.
You who left me crying.
You who made me believe in love for the first time.
You who stole my first kiss
first time

with your straight blonde hair
blue eyes
and that stupid smirk
You who left me broken
You who showed me a new way of living
You who left me being second choice
second best

with your dark blonde hair
hazel eyes
you with your beautiful hands
You who left me angry
You who showed me a different way of love
You who went with me on my third concert
third love

with your curly brown hair
hazel eyes
with your cute braces you never liked
You who left me questioning
You who showed how hard love can be
You who decided I wasn´t worth it
You never happend
We never did.

with wavy dark brown hair
hazel eyes
with freckels on my face

I who loved everyone of you
but still couldnt forget you,
number two

I who loved everyone of you
but you left me wanting more,
number four

I who loved everyone of you
was being loved.
but not anymore.
Usally I write my poems on paper first, and then I will reread them and think about them, may make some changes and then upload them here. But in this very second I am just so full of emotion that I want to write and I want it to be honest so no rereading or correcting. Just me.
written by me
Ah, nevermind

I'll procrastinate tomorrow

written by me... ..
beth stclair
summer buries her
golds and yellows,
opens her soulful eyes;

the running clouds
whisper to the day,
write love notes on the
parchment sky,

you remember our love,
brush my lips with
a kiss of rose.
JT Nelson
I was taught by a man
That smelled heavily of smoke
Of the difference of certain
Brands of cigarettes
And the place to smoke them

I don’t remember much of that lesson
As I quit over twenty years ago
Except that Lucky Strikes should
Be smoked outside... alone...
In the park.
I think I only bought one or maybe two packs of Lucky Strikes. Those filterless suckers were a tough smoke.
ting is
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
Akmal zulhelmi
Somewhere along the way,
I became afraid to say
"I love you".

Afraid if it's just empty words,
Afraid that it no longer hold value,
Afraid that I can't love anymore.

But, as long as it's love,
I'm more than sure,
That I'll never ask you to leave.
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
Suzy Berlinsky
I shall drink your coffee.
i wonder why
it's a sigh
of relief
i breathe.

you were never kind to me in the first place.
Angela McEwan
"Jumper'. Seems to be the word to use.
Not a fluffy, woolly, jumper
or a long jumper.
But a jumper none the less.

You stood in the shelter on the platform.
Avoiding the rain like any sensible soul would.
You're shuffly, but seem normal. Another commuter
waiting for the next train.

The droning intonation crackles over the speaker:
"The next train does not stop here."
You don't stand back from the platform edge.
Stepping out into the rain (why is he getting wet? I wonder)

You calmly stroll towards the edge, brazenly crossing the yellow line.
The penny drops. So do you.
A casual step like going down a staircase.
A thud, a rushing train. You're gone.

Red stains the tracks.
As I frantically dial 999 I can't even see you beyond a few parts,
surely not parts of a human?
A jumper. Not a fluffy woolly jumper.

"The next train at platform 4 is delayed. Please stand by for further announcements.
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