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I cant breathe
I feel like I'm suffocating
It hurts
I'm drowning and theres no water
My lungs hurt
Maybe I just dont deserve to breathe
Maybe I should just

as she trudged up the mountain
      / \
    /     \
  /         \
/             \
victory pulsing through her veins

badum badum badum badum

her eyes set intently on the peak

a deathly stare

she knew she could do anything

anything at all

she was anything but meek

this world is not for the meek
Green has
always been my
favorite eye color, now
I know why. I'm drowning
in a pool of green and I have no
desire to be rescued. You could pull
me under, keep me within an arms reach
of oxygen, and I'd still call your arms home
Winter sunrise on my last and longest day

Wrap me in a winding sheet of flaming orange

Take the reds and pinks from midnight blue to make my shroud

Let me rest in heaven fire

Drown my tired soul in colour

Drinking the final carnival

Warmth for my bones

A funeral of skies and wonders
Saying goodbye to a good man,
Not today,
I will not give in to the temptation.
Not today,
I will not dwell on bad thoughts.
Not today,
I will not harm myself.
Not today,
I will not...
Not today.
I just wanted to write a random poem. You can fill in the second to last line.
The lights
Are too bright
For my eyes
For my heart
For me.
But which me?
we run the miles like we’ve always knew
you came into my life like a fading blue
I gently put you down on a silky sea
I close your eyes and cry on my knees

where did our time go?
will we ever know?
memories of us
downhills fuss
Emanzi Ian
Perfect is not for humans
We kiss and tell,love and forget
We hug and lie,
We are only human anyway, and
Perfect is not for humans
Sometimes, our personal needs and wants make us overlook what the others think,
After all, we are only human

Perfect is not for humans.

©Emanzi Ian.2019.
Kafka Joint
Who have nothing to say,
Are worth talking to.
Lizzie Matthias
No longer a bother
And nothing to ponder
I'll be hitting the hay
Think about all this another day
Orion Lesneski
I don't know why you still do,
After all I put you through,
I made you go blue,
I have no clue,
Why you still do.
I wanted to draw what dissociating felt like
But there still was an empty paper
A poem every day.
rachel kirkpatrick
you might not
have been my first love
but you were the one
who hurt the most.
- i ache for you but i'm still bruised.
Someone asked me to draw
Draw what heartbreak looks like
I finally got tired of drawing a broken heart
And I started drawing you
Leaves falling so slow
Every white petal muddy
Evergreen grasslands
(Visit my FB page "Haiku from my soul to yours")

What I want

is not what I need,

these things I keep

beneath my skin.

They itch and burn

sometimes all day,

sometimes all night

my dreams will feed

these things I keep

beneath my skin.

If let them loose

they itch and burn

sometimes all day,

sometimes all night

and keep me awake

these things I keep

beneath my skin-

December 9, 2019
“I am sonnets full of stardust within the meter of my skin.”
― Patricia Robin Woodruff
Semi-literate Poet
Do you think a girl could love a boy who writes for her a million poems?  That's what I plan to do.
A s my body shakes violently,
In the midst of sound sleep;

Naked and alone,
Lying on the cold concrete;

This nightmare of my reality
                 I Dream...
Based on Reality
Echo of your silent footsteps
Playing on the loop
Strange remembrance
Of the Words spoken out
Under false pretense
And the  moments
of curiosity
Tricking me to believe
You're somewhere near.
Emily Miranda
finding more
learning more
seeing more
hearing more
loving more

fall slowly
for a person
who just wanted
to play
a game
I am afraid to fall
Yet I find my self tripping over your words

I am afraid to get attached
Yet I find my self hanging onto the little moments

I am afraid that I will not be enough for you but I felt it when you asked me if I am enough for myself
and i would give anything
to spend a night in your arms
instead of a nightmare
Today my friend told me
I was acting strange
I gave her the
of a sugar high
But really,
I was just being
I wish I wished I had it in me
To just hurt you how you hurt me
leggo ma eggo
i laugh at the irony
that love broke my heart.
Oliver Alston
Just one cut
No more
Just two cuts
Oh god
Now three and four
Keep cutting the voices say
Keep going till ur arms red
Red with blood
Red with scars
Red with pleasure
It doesn’t hurt as bad anymore
The pain insides gone
You take it out on yourself every single day
Just cutting and cutting
Till the last cut of your life
You say your fine
But really you're just telling lies
Hiding behind the fake smile
Trying not to cry at school because they will realize
They will see the pain that you have been hiding all this time
They will see the pleasure along your arms
They will know
But they won’t tell you to stop
They will just sit there and wait
Wait for you to die
Wait for you to realize what your doing
But by them waiting
Time will run out
Time will stop
And your time will be over.
This is a personal poem and yes it is a true background
Anthony Collazo
I'm gon'
leave a ****** trail
towards a well
With a funky smell
Covered in larvae infested shells
That dwell the flies of hell's demise
A swell of lives,
husband and wives
Like Edward's hands
I'm full of knives.
There's no surprise
When you yell why!
Insert like coins,
in your backside...

So in other words,
I'm a backstabber.
A Poet's Voice
Words . . . words can fill a book,
Can be listed and defined and
Categorized in proper syntax.

But when one tries to speak,
Truly from the heart,
Words become scarce.
Rarer than the most
Precious gemstones, hidden
As the ore of the most
Desirous precious metals
That must be searched, uncovered
With the tenderest of labors and
Refined with the greatest of care.

Words . . . words can fill a book.
But when the heart speaks,
A billion books of words
Will never do.
A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover

It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.
I want to see you,
but you're nowhere to find.
I wan't to see us.
There's not an us.
And I,
I'm dancing with the shadows,
I'm calling myself for forgiveness,
doors closed.
I don't even see me,
If you don't forgive yourself and instead chose to shut the doors to your feelings how will anyone else get to see you truly?

Written on November 28
Noni Winters
I stumbled upon you
Like a child
that finds a pretty stone

Bewildered by your presence
I sat and admired
Counting your cracks
Caressing what makes you glitter

You stood infront of me
Bold and beautiful
Like nothing I'd ever seen

And as you gave me your attention
I think I misconstrued your intentions

I wanted to put you in my pocket
But you said no

So there you sit
Perfectly unpolished
A love

I can only visit
Time is gold
Time runs endless like a river
Time can blow away my mind to different places and memories
Time can make me rush at times
But I felt like time stopped for a while

When you looked me in the eyes and smiled
Bored..but inspired.
where shall I send my poems?**

to my eyelashes,
for they beat irregularly
unconcealed and unconscious
like my poems

to my fingertips,
where they are released fluidly
they grasp, strained and staining, tapping breaths
like my poems

to my smile,
fleeting and happy weeping fortuitously
a lifetime of a whisper, glimpsed and gone
like my poems

to my brain,
where they are symmetrically born only to die ceremonially
a fireworks duration evaporating into a rich velvet
like my poems

like my poems,
none will survive me,
blemishes, pockmarks, beauty marks, residues,
in a flash bang born, in a flash bang consumed

3:08am dec. 9 2019
I'm jealous of the rain
It gets close to you
Closer than I ever will
It touches your skin
It combs your hair
It comes when you're sad
It stays when you're happy
I love you but you don't love me
So I say
I'm jealous of the rain
Sorry I haven't written anything as of late. I have been really busy with school. I really hope you enjoy.
Edit: thanks for the comments the original song is Jealous by Labirinth
She takes the stand
With the voice of millions on her back
And speaks the fact that we all know,
far too well to be true -                  
                                           Me too.

She is heard but not believed,
She is heard with faith deceived .

When will it be enough -
Is one in six not enough ?
Is one sister, one friend
still - not enough?

one colleague, one mother, one wife, one lover -
one teacher, one doctor, one preacher, one author -
one husband, one son, one brother.
Which one will it take, to stop
the non-consensual clock
and make us realise that -

Time. Is. Up.
What is this feeling?
Or rather, lack there of.
A constant longing…
For what?
What need do I have for love
if all it will bring is pain.
Perhaps pain is the very thing I seek.
At least then this void would be filled,
And I could pretend to be whole.
Just some more sad boi stuff.
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.
Beware of the consequences
of what’s been deemed


Precarious pleasure
Addictive piquancy


As Time will come
before you do
Who else just isn’t in the Christmas spirit this year???
Am I the only one????
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