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Noah Stowe Sep 2016
I sit at the table next to you.
Dreaming of being with you.
To sit there with you.
To laugh.
To share your jokes.
Your stories.
Your laughter and
Your tears.
But you put me at this table.
You shoved me aside as though
I was just some unwanted or discarded
Piece of gum stuck on your shoe.
You won't let me sit there with you.
And it isn't because you're popular.
It's because I'm different.
And you're afraid of change and of diversity.
You're afraid of my ways affecting you.
You think that my identity is going to rub off onto you and ruin your social aesthetic.
Stop judging me for something I can't control.
You think that my race, my gender, my ****** orientation will affect you.
But it doesn't.
It affects me.
It changes the way I speak.
Changes where I'm allowed to go.
Changes what I'm allowed to do.
Changes who will accept me.
It may even change whether I have a home or not.
So don't you go saying that my identity will ruin the way your friends see you.
Don't say it will ruin your life for being friends with someone like me.
Because losing a friend is the least of my concerns.
Next time you shove someone aside and force them into the table next to you, imagine how hard it would be to not just lose a home,
But to not even be accepted in the place where you feel most comfortable and with the people you thought cared most.
Next time, don't shove us to the other table.
Noah Stowe Sep 2016
They contain us like vicious creatures.
If we escape the box we are forced into,
We must be hunted down and stopped,
Or put into a new, stronger box.

The only way we can escape
Is if all the boxes are destroyed
Or every creature has its own, perfect, self-made box.
Noah Stowe Sep 2016
Encased in a delicate
Glass ball
Each of us is trapped in our own
Yet we never realize
That one small move
Will shatter the glass ball.
Noah Stowe Sep 2016
In the burning ice,
The bitter trap I can't escape
That society put me in.
Can't move.


Don't help me,
Before they trap you too.
This is probably going to be the first in a series of poems like this. It definitely needs polishing.
Noah Stowe Sep 2016
Flash a smile, wave, and laugh.
THEY can't see through the mask you wear.
Pretty outfits, fancy suits, hours spent on the way you dress.
THEY can't see the slits on your wrists, the frown on your face.
Kiss, hug, show affection.
THEY can't see you're dying inside.

But, oh, I can.
I do more than just see it.
I feel it.

We share the same masks,
The same scars,
The same dying feeling inside.
But THEY will never see it.
Only We will ever know about it.
Inspired by a poetry prompt.  Please DM me if you feel this way.
Noah Stowe Sep 2016
staring into the dark waters
endlessly deep, dark waters
took a step forward
and fell
into the deep, dark, endless waters
that make up your soul
Noah Stowe Sep 2016
Please, let me hold you.
One last time.
Please, let me tell you I love you.
One last time.
Please, let me kiss you.
One last time.
Just let me love you.
One last time.

One last time
Before you go.

Before you slip out of my reach forever.

Just one last time.
A poem that goes with a story. (The poem and the story can be read separately or together. And both of which were written by me.) This is copyrighted by Alex Stowe.
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