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Malia Mar 2020
Peace is overrated
My mind cannot be sated
Writing’s like puking rainbows
I don’t even know what I’m writing about now.
Maybe I’m just getting words to rhyme now
Guess it seems I’m sinking down low
But there’s so much I need to say so
Rhyming’s getting a bit harder.

I can’t let it get too long yet
Because then people
Won’t care to read it.
But I need you people to read this,
Because I’m screaming
My ******* up ****-I mean crap.

If I knew how to write a song I
Would be writing
Until I almost died.
But I guess it would be better
To just be poetic
And not worry how it sounds.

It probably took you quite a while
For you to read this
I am still unsure what I’m writing
I think I need a hint.
Remember when I said I could be characterized as a waterfall because when I write it’s like spilling my insides until there’s nothing left? No? Well, I did say that, and this is evidence of it.
Malia Mar 2020
People
Have a confounding ability
To hide our feelings
So much
That we no longer
Feel them.
Malia Mar 2020
Trying to put labels on things
Is extremely exhausting.
Everything is just too many things
To characterize.
But that’s okay
I’m gonna try and put labels
On myself anyway.

I feel like
I could be characterized as a waterfall.
For example,
When I write one poem on HePo
It takes me about 15 minutes to finally
Shut up.
Malia Mar 2020
I got 100 followers!
Whoo hoo!
Thank you so much
For reading the nuclear waste
Of my messed up brain!
Thank you for encouraging me to continue.
I definitely couldn’t have gotten this far without you guys!
Malia Mar 2020
We are all soldiers
Fighting famine and sadness.
We’re fighting ourselves too, I think.
What a painstaking task
That we assign ourselves.
Malia Mar 2020
Many people
Believe that things
Sometimes aren’t real enough.
They revel
In the objective,
They wish for things they can see.
Novelty
Is fun as long as it’s
Safe and tangible.
People believe what they can see,
And with all of this I disagree.

I revel in the imaginary.
I am afraid of what is real.
I wish for things
Only I can see
In my mind.
I despise the safe and tangible.
Guess I’m insane.
Malia Mar 2020
For me,
Days don’t exist.
They blur
Into long stretches of time instead:
Boring
Not boring
Happy
Sad
Painful
Monotonous
Angry.
I don’t measure time in days
Or months
Or even years.
Time for me
Is measured in emotion.
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