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fellowpoet12x3
15/Gender Fluid Hello, my name is Marleigh! I'm a small poet, haven't wrote much but I'm willing to try!
love is amazing but at the same time its a curse its got the power to make you really happy but at the same time its got the power to destroy you and everyone paints it as if its so valuable but then once youve had a taste your either addicted or you never wanna taste it again because it hurt you its like a rose its beautiful in everyway its petals a crimson red or a crisp white or a soft pink then you haves its thorns the green spikes of danger you have to tip-toe around love if you don't pay attention then you might end up with thorn-scarred skin love is amazing but is it all what people say it is? is it really worth it? just to get hurt in the end?
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Dec 1, 2025
Dec 1, 2025 at 11:45 AM UTC
love
I need help I feel as if I never do enough or I'm doing too much I want to be there for people but I don't know how without being too much or being awkward I'm not good with emotion because I'm forced to hold mine in I'm not able to share mine because I can't be a burden to those I love and if I do share my emotion I'll be called emotional or dramatic I've got presents for christmas or birthdays things like "Sorry did I roll my eyes aloud?" on a tee or pins saying "Dont be a drama lama" I hate it My family asks "why don't you trust us?" or "why wont you talk to us?" they think I'm just another angsty teen but I'm not I just need someone to define "good enough"
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Dec 1, 2025
Dec 1, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
define "good enough"
get to class and sit down, getting my materials ready i see from the corner of my eye girls snickering and pointing at me acting like I’m blind i feel tears welling up but I swallow my tears and stand and look at them ‘I’m not blind or deaf you know that, right?’ they look at me like im crazy then they burst out into laughter i feel my heart drop in my throat i feel the stinging like there’s barbed wire around my throat i sit back down and start to hyperventilate i don’t know how to stop crying my friend tries to lead me through a breathing exercise but i can’t hear her not over my heartbeat rising not over my insecurities i can’t breathe
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Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 10:51 AM UTC
standingand failing
she stands there looking worried yet disappointed holding the small blade in between her slim fingers i look away trying not to cry and i consciously touch my wrist ‘Let me see’ she says i shake my head quickly ‘I just want to help you’ but i know that i’ve known that i just know she won’t be able to help she won’t understand my mind like i do she’ll think im gone she will think that im unwell the storm just has to past it will pass on it’s own all will be okay after but i tell myself that every time and it never gets better my head is a broken vase that doesn’t have it’s glue i need to fix my vase before my family finds it and yells at me later that night we talk about it more and i let her see my peach paper covered in red ink my poor stained peach paper she gasps a bit then gets up grabbing a medkit i start to let out what i’ve been feeling thinking i show her my vase and she promises to help me fix it i sob in relief and she cradles me to her chest as if i was her baby again - broken vase
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Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 10:50 AM UTC
broken vase
the voice is back it wont go away not until I give in they want me to grab my sharpened pencil find a good spot and scribble into the peach paper scribble harsh enough or they wont be satisfied then once they are satisfied they will stop they'll go quiet then I will be filled with regret I will hide my tainted pencil then take a shower cleaning the harshly done scribbles then hide my paper from anyone and everyone my parents will wonder 'Why are you wearing a sweater? It's over 90 degrees!' I'll act surprised and say that im really cold they wont notice how my eyes dart to the place where I scribbled my peach paper they wont notice how I tug my sleeves down quickly when I reach for a salad bowl they will never be able to notice my damaged peach paper if they do they will never understand they will call me selfish they will think i want attention they will never understand the voice i hear beckoning for me to scribble my poor poor peach paper
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Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 10:27 AM UTC
poor peach paper
i wake and reach for you but your not there just a cold pillow i forgot that you left so i grab the pillow starting to cry into it your scent barely there i cry until i fall asleep i wake up again and finally build the courage to get up and finally shower but as i wash i start to cry again reliving through our good moments i remember it like it was yesterday when we would shower after intimacy when we would help each other wash when we would laugh when we saw the lingering marks when we would have intimacy again.. i finally finish crying dry off and build enough courage to wash away.. everything i throw away photos i wipe the videos and photos from my phone i get rid of your hoodies i start to wash my bedding except for that ****** pillow i have to move on or i'll never learn how to heal
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Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 10:08 AM UTC
the healing (pt2 of work sorta)
i look out the window the birds chirp the bees buzz the suns bright but this doesn't match my mood the storm that looks over the bright sky the thunder rumbling the lightning dotting the sky that matches my mind a storm waiting to ruin the perfect landscape i know it's coming the birds and bees know it too yet.. they still dance they still swoop around the sky they just live their life not caring what is to come i wish i could do that i wish i was a bird i wish i could fly away able to be carefree.. i wish i was a bee i wish i could take shelter with my own hive not to be so alone i wish i was the sun i wish i could bring the joy that it brings i wish i was the reason kids came out to play i wish to be everything but myself.. because im not good enough for anyone
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Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 9:54 AM UTC
mother nature