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Q Apr 2013
This is my box
Stay far away
You don't fit in here

You look different
You speak different
You don't fear what we fear.

Find another box
One that fits you
A box with people like you

I have friends in other boxes
Please don't tell
They're different, and they're weird too

I like them anyway
But I can't really get close
Because their boxes aren't near.

I wish I could leave
My box sometimes
But I can't break the fear
Q Jun 2015
Because you have to be;
What problems do you have anyway?
You're doing just fine, you know
No one wants to hear you complain.

You're doing just fine;
You're rotting more every day.
You're doing just fine,
No one cares what you have to say.

You're doing just fine;
There are people who have it worse.
You're doing just fine,
As long as you're outside of a hearse.

You're doing just fine;
You're brain is clawing it's way to your heart.
You're doing just fine,
As long as no one sees it rip you apart.

You're doing just fine;
You're not in pain, you've no problems.
You're doing just fine,
You're terrifyingly, apathetically numb.

You're doing just fine;
You'll last another day, another year.
You're doing just fine,
Just the same as every one else here.
If you read this, V, know I did consider sending this to you before I posted it for your opinion. I came to the conclusion though that, when I don't post poems immediately, I second-guess them, edit them, and end up never posting them. Best regards,
Chaus V.
Q May 2013
Because I'm sick of deep
Bored of emotional
And the 'touching' poems put me to sleep
I'm tired of the tearjerkers
That used to make me cry
Exhausted all the fast workers
That made it hard to sleep at night

So if you're looking for something deep
For an endless well of wisdom
You won't get it from me
I've made my share of those and then some
I'm retiring from the business
Of poems that hit the heart
Because my heart's a bit black and blue
So I'll find another art

Perhaps I'll make you laugh
With silly little tales
Perhaps I'll make you mad
Until you rant and rail
On how bad a writer I am
But at least you'll soon see
That no matter what I do
You get no tearjerkers from me

You want to ponder yourself?
So be it!
Do so when I'm not around
Because when you start spouting philosophy
I'll be the first to skip town
So if you're just as sick as me
Of all the contemplating frowns
Pick up the happy script
And put those sad poems down
It's almost summer, where's your cheer?
Q Jun 2014
It's the ones that get a hit, maybe two
That'll shred your soul apart
It's the poets with followers a few
Who's writing pierces the heart.

It's the poems that you can't believe aren't trending
That are worth a read and then another
It's the poems that are beautiful and rending
That should be on this site's cover.
Spur of the moment mini-rant
Q Jan 2014
The almost whispering scratch
Of your pen upon a paper
As you feel creativity's beckoning
Calls and calms the muse.
There have been others
So volatile, so crass
And everything made with them in mind
Resembled.
But you who calms my Muse,
The phrases flow like water
And the letters dance like whispers of wind.
Through your spark
Does my own creativity wonder
And take flight.
Ever-present beauty lives in what you create
And every word is a melody
The silent sound of the breath in your lungs
Begets a kind of sanity.
There have been others
And all that was made for them
Is ravaged by the hands of madness
But you who calms my muse
Contents my soul's cry
And allows my creative heart to fly.
In the purest sense of inspiration,
In the most surreal, ethereality of existence
Words respond and gravitate to the paper
Liberating themselves in sentences.
There have been others
And then there is you
And there will be others
*But then, there is you

— The End —