Isolation is starting to hit hard, especially after it was announced to continue until at least July. If this continues, I’ll have my 17th birthday in isolation...

I mean everyone is oblivious right now. Moving further into life is climbing a steeper and steeper mountain. When do I get my rockface climbing equipment?

I wish someone told me this when I walked along my local bridge’s 3.5 foot barrier. But I came down myself. Somehow.

I have my own feelings about the turmoil this country is in, but I’m afraid to express my opinion about it. I might not say why some things are morally wrong without angering people. I am only 16. I can’t vote, I can’t get my license, I can’t do much. All I can do is be aware. I refuse to participate in this. Not because I don’t know who’s side to pick, but because I will not generate more hate and turmoil in this society.

Oh god, it is all too many times where I’ve stopped myself from doing stuff... things even as simple as saying hi to anyone.

Input a but after ‘late’ and before ‘my’. Just my passing thought I had as the bags under my eyes grew... saggier i guess...

I want to continue reading “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” by Edgar Allan Poe, but I don’t know whyI can’t start it. I really enjoy it so far.

Sorry that I was awake for too long.

Hopes for the future from the past. And probably present. I’m an *** who stole and destroyed more than his heart.

Too many emotions to write, so I’m taking a break for a while.

This is why I don't like love. I know I don't love him like I have liked other people (men and women) but I don't know what exactly these emotions are, they may or may not even be love tho. Same dude from the original Slop poem.

Not about the action of "becoming one" more about a confession between two lovers who were oblivious to the other's feelings. You know, Romeo and Juliet is not really a tragedy, they got to meet each other in hell.

Yes. This is what my mind is doing to me now. I only want to figure out what happened but my mind is saying “no, *******.”

Let’s do a daily thing now I guess.

The parts I wrote in quotations get more specific while the other halves get less specific. I just noticed that.

Yeah... another dumb, lovestruck teen. I wrote this while trying to write something that was more descriptive of the night reflected in this poem.

The illusion I had was that there were lies in the air. Me getting exited over small things again though.

I have no idea where the idea came from.

The field is really nice.

Hit me hard when writing the previous poem. Also a drug lord is the first thing that came to mind with evil powerful jobs.

It always seems that it's my **** insensitivity that hurts others. After not being able to connect with any emotion from others or even feel any within myself for 4 years, I still find it hard to ascertain what others feel, so I end up taking up the wrong tendencies, saying the wrong words. All of these little things hurt people and the closer I get, the less I notice it, the less sharp I become to their pain, and I hurt them even more. Sometimes I wish I could drop this entire connection to people once more. It would make things much easier. I could then fake everything because I don't feel anything and that would be fine because I wouldn't feel any guilt. But I can't.

True story. I was falling asleep but rolled onto my open pocket knife which I had forgot to close after cutting myself ten minutes prior. My friend is never gonna let me live that one down...

I considered renaming it The Big Picture, but then the poem’s context wouldn’t make sense. Does anyone else name their poems before writing them or am I just weird?

L’s as in Love and Lies. To me, it seems like lovers keep a **** ton of secrets from each other. I don’t wanna engage in another relation full of lies, especially with one so close.
****. That. ****.

Kind of a song, I guess. The first part follows a 4-6 couplet rule thing (4 syllables, 6 syllables), 4 should have an “I” ending, 6 should have an “all” ending. The second part is 4-5 couplet rule thing, 4, again, ends in “I”, while 5 ends in an “ear” ending. Kapeesh? Kapeesh. (Another way I say “Got it? Got it.”)
Oh yeah, forgot, thanks to Caleb for the idea of writing a song.

It’s about an elevator.

I wonder if I’ll have a ponytail by the time barbershops open again. My hair’s longer than it’s ever been.

Take of it what you will.

The title has nothing to do with the poem, just the song I was listening to (“Faith”, by Limp Bizkit).

I tried to write.

Am I really alive or not? What should I be questioning besides me, the only thing in which I have a right to question?

My heartstrings tugged so far,
That they snapped into shreds.
The moon is beautiful in its own way.

I tried writing my mind out. “he” actually refers to two different people, one I liked in a romantic sense, and the other one I despise for somewhat unreasonable reasons.

When they wanted me to unmute myself, so they sang a song about it.

It’s a reference to Fallout: New Vegas. A quest is called ring-a-ding-ding, and in that quest you **** someone that shot you in the head (it’s weird). That person has a famous quote at the start of the game “From where you’re kneeling, it may just seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck, but the truth is, the game was rigged from the start.”

I remember the sights like these that I saw on the way to climb Mt. Washington back in August. I was a bit nervous at first bc it’s such a tall mountain and I was doing the second hardest route, but it was fun... and it absolutely killed my legs for the next 3 days.