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sarah-crisp
F INTP, sophophile, bibliophile, a tad socially awkward, generally happy but sometimes inexplicably sad.
No longer Will I shed my only skin for you Tear out my only bones for you The ones meant to hold me up, The ones I needed When I pulled myself apart for you Offered up my only heart for you Let myself suffocate So you could take your breath for granted No longer
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Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 7:47 AM UTC
I am learning how to be selfish again
My face is a study in cheekbones and shadows And still I remember a time when I felt at peace Before my eyes grew distant I was softer, fuller of colour and life My smile, my pout, my laugh Are a remnant of lost days Now I paste them over too-sharp eyes And a stiff jaw Feeling hideously unnatural An imposter in my own skin To save myself I withdrew from myself I think I have been away for too long
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Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 8:58 PM UTC
Imposter
and when you leave the mediocre aspirations of this world spill through your fingers like mist over a black lake the fumbling despair of your heart cannot tether you here alas, life slips by as a passing shadow you too, of little consequence will fade away
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May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 4:02 AM UTC
Black Lake
The scent of adventure on the wind tugs me away from this life What a tragedy to be born in the wrong universe
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Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 8:54 AM UTC
the real tragedy
Things will always be the way they are now So I refuse to believe that I can change the world All by myself I want to make a difference But then I realise "It's too hard" "I won't even try" Some people say If we're together, we're stronger I know in my heart that This is wrong And you must agree that "Failure is worse than death" I've heard it said again and again Never trying at all Is better than Trying and failing to save the world Now read from the bottom to the top.
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Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 8:16 AM UTC
Reverse Poem: Failing/Trying
I wonder what it's like To feel at home in one's own skin At all times, and in all places I feel conspicuous and maudlin My own mind is against me I fear my very thoughts My heart is but a stranger to me Capricious and withdrawn From all of this I tremble Somewhere deep within my soul For others' sakes, I try a smile, As I shatter and dissolve What is life, if not a nightmare Somewhere hidden in a dream? I could not wake up if I wanted; You cannot pinch a phantom's skin
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May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 3:14 AM UTC
An Honest Mind
Nights like these should be written about Summer, the slow count of the clock A train, rattling, whistling past Time itself seems to stop Nights like these deserve poetry With words far more elegant and sage These nights make poets of unlikely people But not of me, I’m afraid A night like this deserves clarity But frankly, my mind is a mess There are words, tangled, on the tip of my tongue And all others feel meaningless The truth is too raw to be beautiful But beauty is so often a lie This night deserves better poetry; I Can’t explain what I’m feeling inside
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 4:22 AM UTC
Nights Like These
I cannot be this broken thing Clinging onto you I've not the happiness to spare Or share with someone new My heart is much too fragile My path too wandering One day I may feel ready Right now, I feel worn thin Too stressed, too blessed, too lonely To split myself in two When I'm whole again, I'll find myself Then, maybe, I'll find you
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Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 5:16 AM UTC
Whole Again
In the prison of prevention Living is my only crime Both the warden and the inmate Wish to be the perfect child My parents never gave me rules They knew I'd never break them I'd long since forced myself Into complete cooperation But lately through security Has snuck a wild song It passes like a ghost through Every wall, though stout and strong While restlessly, I dream It steals me wholey from my cage Sends my spirit out a-dancing Past the guard in lolling daze In the morning, I'll awaken Safe and sound inside my cell But the key slipped in my pocket? Now that, I'll never tell ;)
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Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 4:49 AM UTC
send my spirit out a-dancing
i'll bet you don't know pain like I do bruises and aches form a beautiful painting green and purple, cruel and patient and the picture feels like home i'll bet you don't miss pain like I do the stab of something snapped or broken twisted, wasted, lose all hope, and- ah, this feels like home
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Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
I'll Bet