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Olliver Jan 2018
famous poems are not personal
famous poems are general
famous poems apply to everyone and make so much sence it hurts
famous peoms are famous because they are presented and taken by everyone
personal poems are not famous
personal poems do not make sence
personal poems do not get famous

O.N.
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Olliver May 2018
I want to remind you of all the times we shared.

When I helped you stand in an elevator at 8 years old because you were too drunk to stand yourself.

When you missed my last band concert because getting high and crying over him was more important.

When you told me I treat you like a dog, but I get anxiety whenever I'm around you.

When you told my brother he should have never been born. A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts, you know.

When you said I was too immature to decide if I should stay at your house or not.

When you stopped being my safe place.

When you tried to make me feel guilty for not coming out to you sooner. It made you mad that even though you have been calling it a phase for a year that I didn't think you'd exept me.

How about the time I tried to put my younger brother to sleep and you yelled at me for asking you not to distract him while cleaning; he would never get to sleep that way. But I was "scoulding you".

Don't forget when I was 4 years old and you came to visit me and promised me a new booksgelf for all my moovies, and didn't even remember the next time I saw you (a month later).

And I've been told plenty of time of when you left me with my grandma to go get some food, and came back about 4 days later for your child.

I was sick once and I remember throwing up, wishing my mom was there to hold my hair, but I figured I hadn't seen her in so long that maybe if I prayed she would hear me up in hevan?

When you dropped me off without saying I love you, even though I said it three times and I was mad.

Now pick those out in perfect chronological order. Tell me what was the old you. Tell me you changed. Lie to me. Im already used to it.

Now you might understand why I'm counting down the days until I live with my father.
Olliver Aug 2017
Its the biggots who will never accept me
Its the mainstreem kids who will laugh at anyone abnormal
Its the hair dye stained heads in the hallways of the schools
Its the dealers
Its the addicts
Its the failing coffe shops by the auto parts store
Its the old train station filled with graffiti
Its miserably beautiful
Its painfully aesthetic

I hate it. I love it. It kills me.

But
Its home.

O.N.
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Olliver Jun 2018
How does it feel
Now that I'm the one doing the leaving

O.N.
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Olliver Feb 2019
She is not famous
To Hollywood she is unseen
This does not change the fact she has the beauty of a queen

Her eyes are blue and light
Not too intense but definately not dim
They are divine in their own way
Like small diamond rims

Her lips are shaped perfectly
They look soft but feirce too
If I were to go into a coma
Her true loves kiss would pull me through

She is tall
She is unique
Her voice is strong but soft
She thunder
She is rain
She is a forrest
And I'm glad I got lost
Olliver Aug 2017
I put on a mask and play my game
I hope people see past my charade
I answer yes and no but I usually lie, afraid of what people might find on the inside.
I build my castle high, and make people think they see it all
But they dont have the key to the dungeon, just the towers and *****
No one has ever seen the darkest parts of my mind
Its a dangerous place where my real smile is confined
People see false happiness in the "girl" they think they know
But they dont know the boy thats sad and alone
Only when the boy jumps from his tower
Will they see the dark place where he spent his last hours.

O.N.
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— The End —