It takes a sad soul to be able to write poetry.

Someone who has been through hell.

It takes a person with so much emotion,

To be able to understand poetry.

For it to really reach them.

Poets write to feel.

Poets write to find people who understand.

And more than anything,

Poets write,

In Hope's that their words,

Will reach someone just like themselves.

Poets write to feel less alone.

And to let others know they aren't alone either.

I see all of you.

Right down to your hearts.

I wish I had the chance to know all of you.

Your beautiful souls.

Please don't ever stop writing.

I need you.

All of you. ♡

I heard their voices
The laughter, all of the chatter
And I couldn't help but imagine
What it would feel like to be one of them,
What it would feel like to really matter.

I saw them wander,
In and out of the house, day and night.
Sun rise through sunset,
I hoped one day I would get the invite.

I felt the strength of their friendships
The circle they had built, I had no way in.
This isn't what I expected.
But I guess this is roommate living.

The last one to arrive
Comfort has been established for so long.
How could I expect them to change for me?
When they already just belong.

I strive to be like one of them.
The social butterfly everyone adores.
But here I am in a new city,
Still the same old me, still a bore.

Maybe some day things will change for me.
One day maybe they'll give me a chance too.
Still, I didnt think it was too much ask.
For someone to say hi I'm __, it's really nice to meet you too.

Could anyone relate to me?
Could anyone assure me the first week is always hard?
Could anyone offer to be my friend, and help me out?
Clearly I expected too much, no one cares enough to go that far.

I read a quote somewhere that said,
"I don't know how many times I have survived myself, without telling anyone else."

And I felt those words shoot through every nerve in my body. I felt them so deeply.

And I wonder how many of us feel the same way.

How many nights we fought off the suicidal thoughts, the urge to cut, the urge to purge, the urge to run or to hide out, alone, too afraid to worry or bother our friends and family.

How many days and nights have we all suffered in our own darkness alone?

People like us fight a battle no one can ever fathom because it's a battle no one can see. And we don't let them.

I've fought myself and survived myself alone so many nights.

There were nights I use to lose my own battle. But some how still came out alive.

I guess that's how we keep going. Because every time we give up we come out stronger.

You fight yourself and beat yourself up for so long that eventually you become a master of surviving a war.

We're warriors.

"I don't know how many times I've survived myself, without telling anyone else."

Tonight, I'm telling all of you.

I survived myself.

And if you're still here and you're reading this, you survived yourself too.

It's not easy but you did it.

And I'm so proud of you all.

one, two, three
one, two, three
one, two, three
i count the seconds that pass by me
floating away
into the unknown
there is a scene laid out in front me
with the actors and actresses taking their places
i am simply a side character
watching the plot unfold
some friends besides me
a couple of laughs drift away in the distance
they escape my grasp
i can’t seem to touch anything

everything is too perfect, too good, too scripted
everything is right in front of me
life is awaiting ahead
not even an inch away
yet it’s not real
i’m not real
i can’t feel real.

- a.g.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

you can dip your words in honey and sugarcoat your wicked tongue,
but nothing can change your rotten heart or change what you have done.

― poetry doesn't make what you did pretty

I still support you
Through your ****** fluidity
Through your gender fluidity
Through your wavering confidence
Through the harsh, silencing glances
Through the whispers and rumors

I still love you
And I won’t ever stop
Not to appease our doubtful peers
Or unsupportive family

Please don’t forget me
Please don’t forget the tender embraces we’ve shared
Or the forbidden kisses we hastily exchanged
Under the cover of night

I love you
Don’t forget to love yourself

please...don't go
i can't lose you again
please don't be drifting away
i knew once we kissed again that you're the one i want
please
don't say goodbye
i know you're not allowed to talk to me
but you still do
i'm sorry
but you say you love me
so please my love
show me
prove it to me
cause for ****'s sake i love you too
and thank you for caring about me
i need you by my side

I never felt it..
I never felt it so hard.
Feeling of love is around me,
it's pushing me towards...
Towards somebody.
I won't tell the name,
I'll leave it as a secret.
Nobody knows my feeling of love.
Nobody knows that I'm in love.