Mar 9 Quinn
A Thomas Hawkins
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
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  Mar 8 Quinn
CAM
God. How am I still not okay?

God. It's been so long.

God. I'm so tired of life right now.

God. What happened to me?

I was such a nice kid.
I was calm all the time.
Mature for my age,
Little but so lively.

I was so helpful.
So loyal.
I always supported my trust.
But I never really spoke my mind.

I was shy.
I was small.
I never stood up for my feelings
I never stood up for myself.

And now I'm older.
I realize I don't need support.
I need myself.
I need confidence.

Speaking your mind is not wrong.
Standing up for your feelings isn't rude.
Standing up for yourself isn't mean.
Saying what you feel doesn't make you imperfect.

No one's perfect. Not even them.
The ones you hate for being so amazing.
Maybe she has anxiety.
Maybe his mom is alcoholic.

No one has a perfect life.
There's not one perfect family in the world.
There is not a person in the world who's perfect.
There's not a person who doesn't have one bit of strife.

But just because you aren't perfect.
Doesn't make you less worth it.
You're amazing.
You're still charming, kind, and strong.

You're just more experienced.
You just understand some more things now.

And maybe, just maybe,
You just aren't as shy anymore.
I'm not perfect. But I'm not shy anymore either.
  Mar 3 Quinn
Lyda M Sourne
It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break
Insomniac nights are the worst. And it's been going on like this for quite awhile.
Quinn Feb 6
It's just a thought,
It's just a dream,
only inside my mind,
but why do I want to scream?
I honestly don't know where I was going with this, but whatever here it is? umm yeah, that's all.
Quinn Feb 6
Stuck in this prison,
confined by its walls,
I can't shake this feeling,
that I'm stuck in these halls.

I'm trapped in my mind,
I can see the light,
but somethings holding me back,
keeping me in the darkness of the night.

My friends will support,
but they don't really see,
how broken I truly am,
how I wish I couldn't breathe.

I feel stuck in place,
not able to move,
as if one little step,
would be disapproved.

Walking on society's thin wire,
as fragile as glass,
one wrong step means
you'll be at the bottom of the class.

With the weight of people's emotions,
all on my shoulder's,
you'd think I could handle it,
that I'd be strong like a soldier.

But instead, I feel weak,
I couldn't adapt.
and now I am stuck here.
Now I am trapped
Quinn Feb 5
"The best four years of your life"
more like four whole years of stress and strife.

It's like an inescapable cage
filled with people who can't act their own age.

Hearing all the kids trying to sound cool,
When in all honesty you just want to see their blood pool.

Fake love, fake people, unsure of who to trust,
but apparently, in school, popularity is a must.

Going through seven classes a day,
wishing you could just make the pain go away.

I want to give up, just get up and fly,
but perhaps a better solution would be to just die.
  Feb 5 Quinn
Harsha ravi
I miss the younger me, she who was comfortable wearing whatever she liked.
I miss the younger me who believed in prince charming and a heartfelt love.
I miss the younger me who craved to grow up and make my own choices.
I miss younger me who was allowed to cry when she fell down.
I miss the younger me who found everything interesting.
I miss the younger me who had hope for a better and brighter future.
I miss the younger me.
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