Thick girls thighs,
Pretty girls smile,
In denial girls white lies,
"Bad *** girls court trial.
Smart girls glasses,
Poor girls hand me downs,
Black girls *****
Rich girls wedding gowns.
Wanna-be girls chameleon attitude,
Slutty girls mini skirt,
Anorexic girls hate for food,
Lost girls amber alert.
Cool girls break the law,
Drunk girls D.U.I,
Klutzy girls trip and fall,
Sad girls wanna fly.
Party girls heels,
Artsy girls love to draw,
Friend-zone girls feels,
Shopping girls love the mall.
Smoker girls pots' laced,
Indecisive girls choice,
Slim girls tiny waist,
Choir girls small voice.
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 9:29 AM UTC
There are boys that cry,
There are girls who have dry eyes.
There are boys that dance or play volleyball,
There are girls that wrestle or play football.
There are boys who drive VW Bugs,
There are girls that drive trucks.
There are boys that bake,
There are girls that shred.
There are boys that like the Notebook,
There are girls that like Transformers.
There are boys that are romantics at heart, looking for love,
There are girls that aren't into flowers or love songs.
There are boys with hair to their knees,
There are girls with shaved heads.
There are boys with diaries and journals full of memories,
There are girls who have no desire to write down all the details.
There are boys with names like Aubry,
There are girls with names like Sam.
There are boys with insecurities about their bodies,
There are girls who don't weigh themselves ever.
There are boys with eating disorders,
There are girls who work out for the ideal 6 pack.
There are boys that prep endlessly for a date,
There are girls who take 5 minutes to get out the door.
There are tidy, neat boys,
There are messy, whirlwind girls.
There are boys in dresses,
There are girls in baggy jeans and a pullover.
There are boys who shop endlessly,
There are girls who can't stand the mall.
There are boys that talk about their emotions,
There are girls who would rather not.
There are boys that look after the kids,
There are girls that work full-time.
There are boys who are nurses,
There are girls who are engineers.
There are boys who cook,
There are girls that change the oil in the car.
There are boys who are complacent and subordinate,
There are girls who are dominant and overpowering.
There are boys with no desire to get it in on the first date,
And there are some girls who wouldn't mind if they do.
And those are all okay. Gender stereotyping only limits what you can and can't do. Let the boys cry and write poetry and eat chocolate when they're sad and talk about their feelings. Let the girls be aggressive and wrestle their buddies and play ball and drive sports cars. Let people do as they please. You're born as you a are, you can't decide what gender you are. You can decide what you do with your gender though, or rather what it won't keep you from doing. Your gender is only an aspect of who you are, don't let it dictate your actions to appease a society that has deemed what is and is not okay for you to do simply because you're either a guy or girl.
There are boys and girls that can grow up to be what they please, do as they wish and speak as they will. Don't be the one to tell them otherwise.
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 9:13 AM UTC
I’m sad because you aren’t here.
I’m sad because you’re supposed to be my friend.
I’m sad because you cancel all our plans.
I’m sad because you don’t talk to me.
I’m sad because you don’t look at me when I’m there.
I’m sad because they all tell me to give up on you.
I’m sad because they tell me I don’t deserve this.
I’m sad because they tell me I can do better.
I’m sad because I can’t let go.
I’m sad because you make me happy.
I’m sad because you aren’t there.
I’m sad because I can’t believe your promises.
I’m sad because I’m left behind.
I’m sad because you make me sad.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:36 PM UTC
Everything is sad.
Like how a flickering streetlamp is sad.
Like how hands that brush but don't hold is sad.
Like how a page ripping in your favourite book is sad.
Like how the flowers wilting after two days is sad.
Like how finishing the cereal but not filling your bowl is sad.
Like how waving to a stranger who doesn't see it is sad.
Like how the blanket doesn't quite cover all of your toes is sad.
Like how this cup of tea is too cold is sad.
Like how the clock hand can't quite get past 20 seconds is sad.
Like how my glow-in-the-dark stars always fade too soon is sad.
Like how the most important words always go unsaid is sad.
Like how the lengthening silence between us is sad.
Like how this broken, shaking whisper that isn't heard is sad.
Like how the closing of the car door is sad.
Like how this kiss blown from my lips can only travel so far is sad.
Like how my heart slams itself into my empty rib cage is sad.
My whole world is just sad
Weeping through these raindrops that won't seem to ever stop sliding down my window pane.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:36 PM UTC
Wake to sad mornings,
Sleep to sad nights,
View sad people,
See sad movies,
Kiss sad women,
Raise sad children,
Pass sad madmen,
Buy sad pets,
Watch sad films,
Hear sad music,
Cry sad tears,
Live sad years,
Pick sad flowers,
Write sad poems,
Keep sad tomes,
Hold sad woes,
Ache sad blows,
Justify sad truths,
Accept sad falsities,
Break sad objects,
Use sad drugs,
***** sad rugs,
Choose sad battles,
Swig sad bottles,
Play sad instruments,
Pray for sad religions,
Spark sad fires,
Keep sad lairs,
Attend sad funerals,
Notice sad cemeteries,
Die a sad death,
Fulfill sad fates.
Do all this, and you'll still be infinitely happier than some.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:36 PM UTC
A finger in my mouth
A nail between my teeth
*Am I worried ?
or
Am I stressed ?*
A sound came to my ear
A sound of something breakin'
*Am I breaking my nail ?
or
Am I eating it ?*
No , I'm not
I'm just anxious
I'm just worried
I'm just stress
Anxious about him
Worried about what he's doin'
Stressed about what he thinks about.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:33 PM UTC
I'm not worried about if I'll cut tonight
I'm not worried about the panic attacks I WILL have
I'm not worried about not being able to eat
Or throwing up anyway
Or crying when nobodies around
I'm not worried about me
I've been through this pain so many times
It's like a stupid broken record
That I'm about to just throw away
I'm worried about you. . . .
What are you doing?
Are you talking to her. . .
Forgiving her. . .
Learning to hate me. . . Finally. . .
Are you hurting, in your room
Are YOU able to eat?
Are you putting the knife down clean?
Are you waking up in sweats
Are you crying and broken?
Are you okay. . .
I guess I know you're not. . .
But I want to know how not okay you are. . .
I want to know that you are at least functioning
I want to know that your dad isn't hurting you
Physically or mentally
I want to know that you aren't alone
That no matter how much I hate him
He is there being your friend
Making you smile
Making you laugh. . . .
Because laughing always makes you feel better
And I know you hate being alone. . .
I don't want you to be alone
So I'm worried
And every time I think about you
Feeling the way I feel right now
I panic and I can't breath
I'm so worried that you are all I dream about
I'm so worried that when tomorrow comes
You will have your head down in the hall. . . .
Hearing nobody at all. . .
Alone. . .
I'm worried because I can't do anything
He said. . . To look walk the other way
And she will be watching. . .
Making sure I do nothing to help
Running to tell if I even smile at you
Wave. . .
I don't want to be the cause of more pain
Yes I'm worried. . .
I'm worried that I might of destroyed the most beautiful person I know
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
"what is an addiction to you?" they asked, “well” you begin, “an addiction is having a cigarette, and just when you finish it, you feel like you need another one” but what you have yet to sink into are the depths of your imagination that you can’t care to to dwell on, because you’re too busy floating on the surface of your own soul.
You see,
An addiction is having your first taste of the igniting fumes as they dance on your tastebuds, manipulating the fact that no matter how good it may taste, that is what’s going to destroy you. its pushing the pessimism out of the inevitable because you’re fooled into being blind enough to think that this isn’t the thing thats going to **** you. It's the trick it plays when you think the smoke is beautiful as it caresses itself around your touch of naive passion, when the smoke is only the remains of the damage you’ve already faced.
It's a belonging you covetously latch onto in a desperate attempt to find any source of comfort, when you don’t even realise that it's only comforting because you’ve filled it up with everything you hate about yourself, every word you wish you never said, or thing you wish you never did. It's filled with every person you wish you never met and hurt you wish you never faced.
But maybe its the kind of addiction thats filled with everything you love about yourself, every word you wish you did say or thing you did do. Maybe its filled with every person you wish you spoke to, or hurt you wish you had to face. either way, you’ve locked that up so deep down inside of you that you’ve lost the possibility of an easy escape, you have to find something that destroys you to make it reappear, even if it's only a brief reminder. A delicate touch. A gentle wind of scent.
You see, nothing is ever like your first addiction. You could be skimming pebbles before you realise to shoot stars, but no matter how much bigger or brighter that star may seem, it will never truly give you the same release that skimming that pebble did.
You let your addiction take over your senses because you believe thats the only thing that can give you a sense of comfort. You don't even begin to consider that this addiction is whats burning your withered soul into nothing but a pile of ashes, swept in the wind of humanity and reality. An addiction is living with the reality of rotting flesh and damaged bones; you can’t even stand alone because you’ve let your addiction glue itself with the fear of loneliness to your hand, so you think of nothing other than it being a part of you, an attachment, a parasite ******* the life out of you, whereas all you’ll ever believe is that its ******* the poison out of your pure blood.
An addiction is something you may not even realise you’re addicted to because you haven’t let yourself get hungry enough to lust for it. It's always there. It's destroying you. Even the smell of your addiction gives you a sense of relief that you’re not alone, when in fact the smell is there to remind you that you are trapped in a state of your own mind.
You have chosen to be oblivious to be the flaws it possesses, because at the time nothing can seem better than your first addiction, nothing in this world could beat the smell, the taste and the touch of your first addiction, and you have let that take over your senses to a stage where if that addiction was taken from you, it would hollow out your heart like a pin pricked egg.
No addiction is better for you than your first love.
Did you really think i was talking about the cigarette?
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:10 PM UTC
Hell is not made of fire.
A lot of people believe that hell is a world covered in flames, with heat that sears through your very being, scorches your soul, and inflicts terrible agony. They say Hell is a place for fiery torment, where fire is a vicious serpent that winds through your existence and seeks to quench every feeling except anguish, but at the same time refusing to let you be conquered by nothingness, keeping you wide-awake so you can feel every blistering sensation.
They're wrong.
Hell doesn't look the same for everyone else. Hell is a multi-faced mirror with countless reflections caging you inside the hollow of a diamond so you can see the glaring facets you refuse to look at. Hell is not always a place; sometimes it's a feeling, sometimes it's an event--sometimes it's a person.
Hell shows itself not only in death. Hell is everywhere--it's just somewhere around the corner of the street, hiding its face behind a newspaper, waiting for you to make the wrong choices. It's just somewhere behind you, an invisible fiend watching your every step, waiting for you to stumble. And once you do, it will laugh at you. You won't hear its sinister laughter, nor would you notice the subtle shift of the ground beneath your feet.
The odds are no longer in your favor.
Hell is cold. Hell is calculating. Hell is terrorizing.
Hell is reaching inside yourself, searching your heart, trying to find out how you really feel--but ending up finding nothing. Hell is opening your mouth to scream but nothing comes out because there is nothing left inside. Hell is the immovable boulder weighing down on your chest, it is the desperate need for the ability to cry, it is the panic and anguish that comes when you realize you can't.
Hell is watching him with his perfect hair and perfect eyes and perfect smile, knowing he isn't even aware of your plain existence. Hell is realizing for the first time that unrequited love is not as romantic as people say. Hell is waiting, waiting, waiting for something you know won't come. Hell is finally getting the nerve to say 'I love you' but only receiving silence in return. Hell is laughing it all away and saying it's nothing, I understand why, all the while wishing you could run to someplace where you can cry and scream without being heard. Hell is falling in love.
Hell is the red mark on your record, the frowns on your parents' faces, the pitying looks on your friends' expressions. Hell is the star you failed to reach, the shaking heads, the consoling pats on your back. Hell is the mocking laughter ringing in your ears even after they've long ended. Hell is the condescending voices echoing from somewhere in the back of your mind, reminding you who you were, who you've been, and who you are now. Hell is laughing at you. Hell is disappointment. Hell is trying and trying over and over and never succeeding. Hell is failure.
Hell is building your life with damning patience, with meticulous thoroughness, with painstaking care, and having it all knocked down to the ground. Hell is desperation, hopelessness. Hell is the blooming rose standing amidst a bed of withered blossoms. It's the touching beauty of life at its most exquisite, the surging anticipation, the reckless triumph, and the next day when you look for the rose you only find a withered stalk. Hell is hope.
Hell is the silent night torn apart by raging screams and flying furniture. Hell is the deafening wail of a child accompanying every insult, every furious, careless word that escapes your mouth. Hell is the empty threat he took as a promise. Hell is holding his hand and realizing it's no longer as comfortable as it used to be. Hell is the sadness weighing on your apartment, so palpable you could wrap your fingers around it and try to snap it--but you can't, because hell is already there. Hell is the silence, the eternal quiet screaming in your ears, as you pack your suitcase, as you stuff in old photographs trapped behind the cracked glass of their picture frames. It's the painful need to sit still and concentrate on breathing because you suddenly forgot how to. It's looking around you, seeing the stripped bed, the empty closet, the unsettling dust floating along the light filtering through the misted windows. Hell is falling out of love.
I could go on about hell forever, and I would never be able to enumerate all of them because there can only be so many words that can describe hell, and there are too many people in this world who see different kinds of hell. I cannot accurately define hell, I don't know much about it. I cannot claim to have seen hell, because I've never been to a place like it before.
But I know that hell is cold.
Because hell is not always made of fire.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:09 PM UTC
When I'm hurt, I cry,
I always want to fly away like a butterfly,
When I'm hurt, I try to fall asleep,
When I'm hurt I tend to be very deep,
When I'm hurt, i can't think,
My feelings might change with just a wink,
When I'm hurt, I day dream,
When I'm hurt, I wish I was really free,
When I'm hurt, my anger makes it so hard for me to breath,
When I'm hurt, I want time alone,
When I'm hurt, I want to be at home....alone,
When I'm hurt, I feel like I was pressured,
When I'm hurt, I feel small and weak,
When I'm hurt, I feel left out and like a geek,
But I'm not a freak....
When I'm hurt, its hard for me to dream.........
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 1:07 PM UTC