malaikah-khan - Hello Poetry

There are moments in time where people cease to exist; where faces are unfamiliar, where there are surroundings around me that I have never seen before. There are moments in time where everything comes back hazy at first; like a gloved hand wiping away the condensation on the car windows and then sits comfortably and I know everyone, and I'm where I'm supposed to be There are moments in time where these bitter realities beg to be replaced by fantasy where I understand; I will never be where I'm supposed to be, where this life is lived and then forgotten and in those moments, I wish my existence to stop and for the people I know to forget me and for the end of me.

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Nov 3, 2014

Nov 3, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC

Moments

There are moments in time where people cease to exist; where faces are unfamiliar, where there are surroundings around me that I have never seen before. There are moments in time where everything comes back hazy at first; like a gloved hand wiping away the condensation on the car windows and then sits comfortably and I know everyone, and I'm where I'm supposed to be There are moments in time where these bitter realities beg to be replaced by fantasy where I understand; I will never be where I'm supposed to be, where this life is lived and then forgotten and in those moments, I wish my existence to stop and for the people I know to forget me and for the end of me.

22

Don't make a sound. But don't stop either. Breathe slowly, calmly, you're not afraid Or at least, you don't want them to think so. One foot in front of the other. Be brisk; this is high school You don't want to seem too eager though Nobody likes a nerd Keep your head up. Not too high though- don't want to look arrogant Don't make eye contact These are not your friends A little cough escapes your mouth. Reprimand yourself. Don't make a sound Need to sneeze? Hold it in Nobody likes loud-mouths. Don't touch your hair. It probably looks okay and if it doesn't then you don't want to look vain. Nobody likes a narcissist. Shoelace undone? Don't bother tying it yet. That would mean you have to stop. And pause your journey Thus pausing everybody behind you therefore pausing their journey and you're not important enough to hold people up ****** expressions should be plain Hard, cold, remote, isolated, indifferent *You are a maniacal socially anxious human being that shouldn't be allowed to be here. You are not worth this. You are a representation of leftovers from cool kids. You are drowning in the deep end on the gene pool* You are not important

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Jan 31, 2014

Jan 31, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC

You Are-

Don't make a sound. But don't stop either. Breathe slowly, calmly, you're not afraid Or at least, you don't want them to think so. One foot in front of the other. Be brisk; this is high school You don't want to seem too eager though Nobody likes a nerd Keep your head up. Not too high though- don't want to look arrogant Don't make eye contact These are not your friends A little cough escapes your mouth. Reprimand yourself. Don't make a sound Need to sneeze? Hold it in Nobody likes loud-mouths. Don't touch your hair. It probably looks okay and if it doesn't then you don't want to look vain. Nobody likes a narcissist. Shoelace undone? Don't bother tying it yet. That would mean you have to stop. And pause your journey Thus pausing everybody behind you therefore pausing their journey and you're not important enough to hold people up ****** expressions should be plain Hard, cold, remote, isolated, indifferent *You are a maniacal socially anxious human being that shouldn't be allowed to be here. You are not worth this. You are a representation of leftovers from cool kids. You are drowning in the deep end on the gene pool* You are not important

36

Do you want to build a city around us? Fill it with garden and buildings and parks, then sit among dozens of fields of roses and live under the grandest of trees and shade. Strip our city of unnecessary humans, leave it so bare, so clean, so plain. Throttle and torture the animals that ruin, chase away all the evil within. We'll build a perfect city around us Just so we can watch it burn

0

Jan 28, 2014

Jan 28, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC

The Evil Within

Do you want to build a city around us? Fill it with garden and buildings and parks, then sit among dozens of fields of roses and live under the grandest of trees and shade. Strip our city of unnecessary humans, leave it so bare, so clean, so plain. Throttle and torture the animals that ruin, chase away all the evil within. We'll build a perfect city around us Just so we can watch it burn

10

Dear diary, can I tell you a story? I tried last summer Dear diary, can I add to that story? I lied last summer. Dear diary, can I finish that story? I died last summer. But to explain that further, let me tell you the whole story; I lied last summer. Your mouth spews out insults like a second nature, polluting the room with your sickly sweetness and over made up frowns, before we know it over-sized hoodies and baggy t-shirts, line our wardrobes in a desperate attempt to make us invisible. Teachers turn a blind eye and old friends start to forget us. Before we know it, we’re keeping our hands down in class, first of all because we don’t want to share our opinions, but more importantly because no-one would even care. In this 21st century hell, we can only try and tread carefully around you, because when we don’t, it’s worse. When we don’t, we have to bear the sting as reality slaps us in the face leaving us feeling flustered and insane. And before we know it, we’ve forgotten what the heat of the sun feels like upon our bare skin, because we hate the paranoia we feel, just walking alone where you’re around. And the rest of them, they just sit there and stare, as though willing it away half-heartedly in their minds could cause even a miniscule amount of difference, while we, the freaks, the losers, the broken records among a pristine collection, we were all rotting away as you, like a rat, ate hungrily at our collective corpse. Before we know it, those bitter, barely customised whispers you send through the hallways turn into a deafening ringing, in our heads constantly And so as the cool summer air blew through my hair, red hot tear streaks fell like train tracks upon my pale, blotchy cheeks. Time slipped through my fingers as weeping angels serenaded me, eyes closed, heart overdosed… on emotion, a notion, distortion of devotion… I fell in slow motion.

0

Jan 27, 2014

Jan 27, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC

Before We Know It

Dear diary, can I tell you a story? I tried last summer Dear diary, can I add to that story? I lied last summer. Dear diary, can I finish that story? I died last summer. But to explain that further, let me tell you the whole story; I lied last summer. Your mouth spews out insults like a second nature, polluting the room with your sickly sweetness and over made up frowns, before we know it over-sized hoodies and baggy t-shirts, line our wardrobes in a desperate attempt to make us invisible. Teachers turn a blind eye and old friends start to forget us. Before we know it, we’re keeping our hands down in class, first of all because we don’t want to share our opinions, but more importantly because no-one would even care. In this 21st century hell, we can only try and tread carefully around you, because when we don’t, it’s worse. When we don’t, we have to bear the sting as reality slaps us in the face leaving us feeling flustered and insane. And before we know it, we’ve forgotten what the heat of the sun feels like upon our bare skin, because we hate the paranoia we feel, just walking alone where you’re around. And the rest of them, they just sit there and stare, as though willing it away half-heartedly in their minds could cause even a miniscule amount of difference, while we, the freaks, the losers, the broken records among a pristine collection, we were all rotting away as you, like a rat, ate hungrily at our collective corpse. Before we know it, those bitter, barely customised whispers you send through the hallways turn into a deafening ringing, in our heads constantly And so as the cool summer air blew through my hair, red hot tear streaks fell like train tracks upon my pale, blotchy cheeks. Time slipped through my fingers as weeping angels serenaded me, eyes closed, heart overdosed… on emotion, a notion, distortion of devotion… I fell in slow motion.

45