120/M/nyc    is this a poem, a cri de coeur, a confession - or a poetpourri of history of a journey tween naissance and

Long Island    When I write poetry, I can feel flowers growing out of my fingertips. Blissfully moody and miserably young. Always loving, always cursing. Mental illness survivor, …

If only I was something Or someone profound. Here I am a silly teenager, Apathy and immaturity pinning me to the ground.

Medford Oregon,    I am Jessica Applegate hit it up?' stay true to the realist, make proud stay loud, in a bad mood?. don't ever be rude. don't …

Freckles, music and a plethora of nutella.

Melbourne    The chronicles being born in the eye of the storm and surviving in the hands of hell.

outside your heaven babe    I write. Sometimes the words write me .and every poem is just a prelude to the next. I am messy, emotional, I love passionately, and …

Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.

Yellow Brick Road    A grenade wrapped in love letters.

USA    Just out here surviving and writing ~ *These poems are my property and mine only

F/I wander    I use poetry to cope

Ontario    Former English & Psychology student at WLU. Oh, you rebel you. Oh, you Casanova you.

bye.

New Jersey    nunchi.weebly.com

UK    To abandon oneself to principles is really to die - and to die for an impossible love which is the contrary of love.

Bremerton, WA    let the words come out through your arm

India    Thriving on procrastination, internet, microsoft word and electricity. And food. A lot of food.

24/F/New Jersey    "Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted." -Percy Shelley