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jordan-fox-1
American
A mask a mask of pain of happiness Does it matter? What mask is a mask Does any person truly know what their face looks like I see myself in the mirror and slowly try to peel away my masks of the day like wiping off dirt or colored paint but when I am done stripped bare and raw I realize that all I have is a blank slate to draw more masks on for tomorrow.
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Masks
Ten Thousand years under the sun under the sea under the grime of life Yet I am not sunburned I have not drowned And though I am not pure I am outwardly clean Ten Thousand years is such a long time You begin to lose yourself. within the years, the time Until who you were What you were is lost buried in your heart that has become a stone Ten Thousand years of waiting for a spark
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
A Spark
I can't write about love Love is not for me I have never felt it Lies are all that I know In my heart there is nothing suspicion Little crushes that no one knows I am too scared to try Losing my pride is much worse Instead of taking a chance Love hurts, so they write and say Is there any way for me to know? Love is a battlefield, they tell me I have never been drafted to fight Lost and alone forevermore Isn't is funny to see these words? Loving and losing hurts, you tell me. Lots. I don't think you know or remember Languidly writing your poems of sadness: If you've never loved at all "Love" hurts even more.
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Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
I can't write
Is that a face I see in the window? or perhaps it is a Shadow looking back at me Words meant to worry to make me move quicker to do better to be better Because Shadows are closing in Because the world is moving quicker to do better to be better. The Shadow comes quickly, they say. you must do better, be better They Say. But then it is another day. The Shadow has closed in and I look in a window and see another Shadow waiting as people say that it is coming to think ahead Do better Be better Because the world keeps turning everyday is another Shadow and we ask ourselves have we done enough? Done better? Been better? The Best...
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
Future
My grandmother says A pretty girl like you? I bet you have thousands of suitors. I look at her, laugh, and say: *Suitors? Su itor? Swe itor Swea tor Sweater.* And then I put on a sweater Because I always seem to be cold.
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
What?
The bird flutters gently against the window. I want in. I want in. It pecks its beak against the pane. Let me in. Let me in. Crumbs of bread scattered across the sill. Why won't you let me in? Why? Why? The bread brought it. And now the bird is ready. The secret will be revealed. It is ready to say. She is ready to say it. So let me in. Let me in. The pane will crack soon. The crumbs consumed. Let her in. Let her in. In the end, the beak shatters. In the end, the talons, tiny, are blunted. In the end a bird is no match for the window. Something so easy to break. So strong against this bird. It. It is done. I am done. The bird flies away.
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Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
Try Hard
I look up and I see her She stares back me slightly surprised to find a face, eyes looking back at her. She surprises me every time I don't know what I expect But what I see isn't what I want. Sometimes I cannot help but stare. Sometimes I think she is beautiful The best, brightest girl ever. But then I blink and she goes back to being... her. She is not me. She cares about people, things and life. She cares about things. She cares. And that is not me. Sometimes I wish it was me. Sometimes I want to jump into her skin and be her for real, be the face, or mask? that she has. The perfect mask. But then I blink and she goes back to being... her. And then I walk away from the mirror.
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
Her
If only I was a crayon drawing Where each smiling face looks the same Where stick figures and three fingered hands illicit the smiles of adults and adoration of how beautiful the picture is of how artistic the drawer is Despite the fact that the people are purple and everyone has a beautiful smile. If only I was a crayon drawing. With the sun always shining, though I hover off of the blob of green grass Though I am taller than the house beside me At least I am happy At least people tell me I look beautiful though I am a blue colored person and have no feet or hands. At least the sun is always shining at least I am happy. If only I was a crayon drawing. With no need to worry about how I look. With my family in a line beside me, clumsy names written above us, barely readable. But then I would be tacked to a bulletin board. Then i would be fawned over, Oh how sweet. See, look at the smiles on their faces! Look how happy they are! How cute, how adorable. See how artistic, how true to life. See the smiles? If only I was a crayon drawing, I could never grow up.
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
Crayon Drawing
Lower your head Take a deep breath Pretend not to see The pain that is left. Feel in your heart The wrong that is done But say not a word Hide from the sun. Try not to burn In the evil you see It cannot be helped Or so they tell me. Make not a change Try to hide safe Keep your head down Yet these bonds chafe I want to make change I want to stand tall But how to find strength? Lift our voices before we fall.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
Speak Up
I have seen it all. The memories The love and hate I have such stories to tell But no one sees me. They look past me. To the world. To someone else. But I was there. They look through me. They never see me. So I am unimportant? So I am unneeded, unwanted? When I weather the fiercest of storms, Lock out that world you see through me When I listen to every muttered story When there is no one else in the room And the world you see through me Does not hear I hear you. Talking. Talking. Looking. But never seeing. I have been here. I am always here! Why do you not see? But I cannot shatter for attention Whenever I am unnoticed Because I would always be broken And no one would fix me Because they all look through me And never see me. I am here.
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Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
Windows