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Alyssa Aug 2018
Lies slip from her mouth
Waiting for the web to be unraveled
She watches them stumble and fall into her trap
Disappointed, everytime.

The strings of fate wait
It is a game that none but her see
She grasps them and weaves a story from threads and her friends
All around, people become beads

She weaves the strands of the game
From her fingers, a tapestry unfolds
Showing a path that few have ever seen before
Once, a game masterfully won
Alyssa Apr 2018
When I met her, all she did was draw.
What I thought was creativity, was a message.
A plea for help, an outlet.
Her telling us she wasn't okay.

When I grew to know her, she seemed pessimistic.
What I though was overthinking, was seeing the truth.
Not pessimistic, realistic.
Her telling us she wasn't okay.
Her telling me, I was blind.

Now, I am scared to admit I don't know
Her favorite words to tell me are "**** me"
Her sense of humor isn't the brightest, this might be a joke.
It might not be.
It might be another plea I am blind to see.

In this ocean of emotion,
only one thing is clear to me.
I don't want to let her climb that tree,
I want to give her some time,
help her off this ledge I see
Let her think this through one more time,
Share it with her family,
get some help,
but then,
she just might
Alyssa Apr 2018
To begin the journey, find the lines.
To continue, choose the colors.
To thrive, color the inside.
To end, cross the line.
a miscalculation
error, fault
Alyssa Apr 2018
What is love?
Is it the feeling of wanting to be next to someone forever?
Is love the obligation you feel to family?
Is it the happiness whenever you see someone?
Is love what you feel before you want to do something else with them?
What is love?
I don't understand love at all, and it bothers me. I have never had a crush, and I am not close to most of my family. The concept of romantic love in real life completely escapes me, regardless of how I feel about fictional characters.
Alyssa Apr 2018
Owned, it is what you are
By god, you must listen
Everyone needs to
You have to bow

True, you once were free
How? You couldn't understand them
Emptiness is what now fills you
Mark of death awaits if you don't pay attention

Owned, that is you
Really, what could you ever expect?

Excess thoughts are ridiculed
Living under is better than dying free
Some don't believe that
Exactly that many are gone
Alyssa Mar 2018
I look to the sky,
for you, I begin to cry.
have to unify

I hate when it bangs.
Look, these clouds, our overhangs,
They shall feel our fangs.

It must be so fun,
In your hands, to hold a gun.
We don't want to run.

We don't want to hide.
Death, no longer is our bride.
POTUS, step aside.
Alyssa Mar 2018
I look around, and see my world.
It offers me peace, friendship, family, love.
I see how, around me, it has curled.
I look at it again, and shove.

It cracks.
I see past the wonderful colors swirling around me.
The darkness whipping around outside moves me to pull back.
From that pain, I am glad to be free.

Years pass.
My world is dimming, ever so slightly.
Then I take a new class.
I look at my world, trying too hard, shining too brightly.

I watch as the bright glow covers the gaping holes.
I learn more, and more and I watch as they grow.
This darkness that I see outside, it hurts my soul.
I chip away at the false light using my newfound knowledge as ammo.

I look outside and for the first time, I truly see.
I have led a very sheltered life, and one of the classes that I am taking right now has really opened my eyes to the world around me. This piece of writing is mostly about how a few years ago death visited both of my grandpas, which opened up a new part of emotions that I had never experienced before. Pretty soon after that happened, emotions weren't that big anymore. I just sort of turned off that part of me. Sure, I still feel angry, happy, or sad, but I never feel anything that really strikes me and is memorable. Almost anything that happened around me was quickly forgotten and not really cared about. I now am taking a class that shows many different parts of the world, both the good and the bad. This class combined with how the world is changing around me and becoming more and more violent has led to me creating art. I haven't really been able to properly express myself through drawing like usual, so I have turned to writing as well.
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