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 Nov 2014 Meggghanq1
Bluejay
Everyone
is fake
until proven real.

I should know
they challenged
me.

Then
I ran
some place far

but not really
far enough.
-sigh-

I
tried and
tried to fit

in with the
"cool crowd"
well,

that
did not
work so well.

because here I
am your
friend...

I
am the
monster you trust.

I take your
thoughts and
twist

them
all around.
I am crazy.

Sorry to break
it to
you

I
am not
who you thought.

I am the
monster you
trust.
Thank you Casey for the inspiration
 Nov 2014 Meggghanq1
Bluejay
Butterflies every time I see you
But I really don't know what to do,
My soul giggles a little bit
With you and our frieds do I even fit??

I thought you really couldnt stand me
Now I guess its jealousy I see.
Am I even worth the time,
Arent I just worthless slime?

This is all so crazy in my eyes
I am used to pain, hurt, lies,
And I wonder how I got this
Almost kind of maybe bliss.

Let me just end this here,
I like you a lot my dear...
For Alex (nei)
 Nov 2014 Meggghanq1
Maddie Lane
My feet may be small but in certain shoes they create thunder,
I try to walk lightly.
I feel that I make too much noise as I walk.
I don't want the world to take notice of me.

Sometimes,
I clank my heels against the pavement,
waiting for heads to turn,
waiting for the world to notice me.

I am a bundle of contradictions,
I am the biggest hypocrite that I know.
I give advice that I would never take,
tell people to run when I stand still.

With you my feet are not quiet nor are they loud,
they are shaky.
For the past nineteen years they've done a great job of holding me steady,
but around you they seem to forget how to function.
I forget how to function around you.

I thought I built walls tall enough for only the ones who cared would scale,
but you got in and started swinging.
If poems were ***
then,I wouldn't be a ******
i would caress the letters
fix a foreplay with title
i would literally **** the words
to give birth to soulful sentences
if poems were ***
I wouldn't be ******,still.
Its a bit different idea to show my love for poems. If there wasn't poem then where would my feelings disappear,I wonder !
This 'you' that everybody writes about are
The tears that stain our cheeks late at night,
The eyes that haunt our dreams every night,
The scars that remain as devil-ish memories of our weak moments.

I'm sick of this 'him' I'm sick of this 'her' that torments people day after day,
Making then write until their brain is pulsing and their hands are shaking.
I just want to be an okay me.
And if I need a 'him' to help me feel okay,
Then may God help me.
For I have no purpose in this world
Other than to rely on others for my heart to continue to beat.

I want to be the reason that I am still here.
I do not want to rely on another human soul.
For we are all doomed at one point to be nothing if that is the case.
But I just pray that if
Nothing we once were,
Then may our memories of life forever remain.
I'm sick and tired of society
I wanna fly
But people cut my wings
I wanna scream
But people take my voice away
I wanna write
But people mow my hands
I wanna walk
But people chain me to the wall

Society makes me equal
When I realise
I'm just another brick in the wall
There is no sense in this world anymore
I feel sore
Seeing people being all the same
It looks like I am to blame

Personality,
A word that doesn't exists in our dictionaries anymore
Creativity was pruned out
Like the hair on the soldier's head

Money is all they think about
I can't carry out
They are making insane
Making me not the same
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