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megan-marie
megan-marie
American Twenty-something giraffe lover. I write when I write.
I’ve made mistakes I’ve crossed lines Not all wounds Heal with time. I’ve drifted away from myself and my own, I’ve gone off the deep end, left my own home. I’ve reasoned with winters that promised a summer, For a single soul I sacrificed others.   Lost in the woods, I saw my reflection, Seeking answers, I found more questions, I breathed so deeply I lost all my senses, My mind only thinks in perfect past tenses. The fish in the sea, the birds of the Earth, Your lies and your sins, what’s an apology worth? You can replace the tiles and you can fix the walls, But in the end, Babylon falls.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Babylon
All is quiet, The closet closed, Dust gathers, The bed is cold. Relics remain, Where life’s no more, An empty room On the second floor. Dust the shelves, Open the blinds, Pack up the effects, He left behind Light beams in As life seeps out, A new age now, A time without.
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Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
The Museum Room
In a cement forest, filled with decay, A young girl sat, her thoughts veiled the gray. A simple life, she craved nothing more, As the pace of the city, rapped at her door. A field of lush grass, every blade soft and bright, A smoldering fire, to keep warm in the night. A morning stroll, evenly covered in dew, Water so pure, it’d rinse her anew. As she sat dreaming, on a life far away, She heard a faint bird song, blending into the gray. So futile a life, she pondered its choice, To live in a place, that drowns such a voice.
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
Bird Song
They called me a Porsche, They called you a lemon, If we were to touch, I’d call it an accident.
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
Lemon
I want to adopt an old-timer, A jolly, kind old fellow, His socks would never match, And his sweater would be yellow. He would tell me stories, About the good ol’ days. We’d inch around town, In his 59 Chevrolet. We would go fly-fishing, And he’d wear flannel tops. He would call me youngster And I would call him Pops.
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC
Old-timer Adoption
There once was a boy who was lost to a frat He loved his Sperry’s and his backwards hat, He used to like sports and women you see, He used to be normal, if you ask me. Now all he did was hang with his bros, He was constantly loud and put on a show, His stomach got bigger from all the beer, His ego got bigger—for no reason that’s clear. He walked around campus in only pastels, And spent time in the gym, lifting barbells. His weekends were filled with ******* and ***** Class didn’t matter, he needed to snooze. He needed his bros to feel like he belonged, He loved his new family and thought others wrong, When he graduated, he came to see, There's no place for bros in society. He said, “This isn’t right! How can this be?!” The young man then whispered, “The problem is me.”
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
Frat Poem
I am the crease in the sheet that you straighten before sleep. The sore behind your bottom lip The broken chip left in the dip. The spider too high on the wall The morning-after desperate call. I’m the caffeine habit you can’t kick The little itch that makes you tick, I’m the light left on The milk left out The constant drip from the sink’s spout. I am the failure by one point The click you hear when you straighten your joints, The hair that grows in all the wrong places The nasty knot in your shoelaces. I’m your nighttime drowsy and your wakeup grog, I am your morning breath and your mental smog. I am the teeny cut that stings so bad, The very best you'll never have.
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
Crease
My friend’s name is Complacent She’s really just okay Her voice is monotone When we go out, she stays She never gets wound up She never gets stressed out I’ve never heard her grumble I’ve never seen her pout Complacent likes to sit Complacent likes to chat She brags on why she’s better I’m not buying that.
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Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 4:09 PM UTC
Complacent