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Marisa Sep 2019
Why is it that when I talk
People hate me
But when I’m mute
People love me

When I talk
I’m told that I’m
Too annoying
Too loud

But when I’m mute
I’m told that
I’m sad
I’m angry
I want to **** myself

So which do I pick?
I could choose to be me
And be loud and obnoxious
Or
I could choose to be the person
That everyone else likes
And be mocked for being quiet

My friends worry
My bullies don’t mock me anymore
My mother is scared
The school doesn’t have to worry about cussing

My brother worries about my health
My teachers don’t notice
So I don’t care

I choose to be me
But the silent me
The one that laughs silently
The one that doesn’t go to parties
The one that doesn’t even have friends anymore

All because
I’m quiet today
Marisa Apr 2019
You have no idea how much I love you
Yes,
I show you how much I can love someone
But I have not shown you what I can do to someone
I have not shown you everything

You’ve seen the outside of me
The one with clothes
Yes,
There has been lesser clothing sometimes,
But you have no idea who I am until you see me
For me

I don’t care how much you’ve seen of my body
I don’t care how many times I’ve cried in front of you
I don’t care what you know about me
I just want you

I want you in my life

For a very long time

I have this feeling that we were meant to be together
Seriously, I do
I have this feeling that we’re going to be high school sweethearts
And then separate and go to college,
But meet up again and pick up where we left off…
And then get married
I just have this string tugging on my heart telling me that

I love you so much more than you can imagine
You have no idea that I’m writing this
As far as you know,
I haven’t written a note to you in a while
Trust me,
I’ve written several,
I just don’t give them to you
You have no idea how much I want to sleep with you
Not necessarily have *** with you, but just sleep
Cuddling
And watching movies
That’d be amazing

I want to tell you that I’m writing a poem for you,
But that’d give away the surprise…
I’m not even going to tell you what the surprise is

You have no idea how much I love you

You have no idea how much I want to kiss you every time I see you

You have no idea…
And I wish I could tell you
  Jan 2018 Marisa
Francie Lynch
____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­______________
Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
Marisa Jan 2018
I woke up this morning
Only to be able to tell my friends that
I’m okay

I ate today
Only to show everyone that
I’m not trying to lose weight

I did my homework this evening
Only to show my parents that
I’m fine

I laughed at dinner
Only to say that
I can make it

I tried to sleep
But I couldn’t
That’s the one thing that I couldn’t fake

I don’t know how to fake it
I can’t fake it

Everytime I look at the couch
I think
“You should be here”

Everytime I get in the car
I almost start to cry
Thinking how you died

Today I found out about your death
I didn’t cry
Only because I didn’t want to show any weakness

Today I went to your funeral
I didn’t see you
Or anyone that I knew
I saw my mother
Not for long though
As I left the home,
I caught a sight of you
Saying,
“You’ll be fine dear. Trust me.”

Today I cried
But only to show that to be strong
You have to show your weakness
  Dec 2017 Marisa
Maxwell
December 17th 1998 the doctors say "congratulations, it's a girl"
I do not know what I am

5 years old I am at preschool
I ask "why don't they wear dresses?" pointing to the boys I get an answer that boys don't wear dresses
I don't want to wear dresses, can I be a boy?

Elementary school the boys play football and tag at recess, the girls talk about the cute boys, their hair and their outfits.
I want to play football with the boys but I sit alone on the swings watching the boys.
I wish I were a boy

Middle school the girls are wearing bras and the boys are getting deeper voices. My voice doesn't get deeper but my chest grows, I try to push it back but it doesn't work. My sister want to put makeup on me and have me dress in girly clothes.
But I feel like a boy stuck as a girl

Highschool I learn the word transgender. I cry because I'm not alone. I find out about binders and order one. It comes it the mail, I put it on and put on my most masculine clothes. I already have short hair but I put on a beanie. I look like a boy. I feel like a boy.
I am a boy

The name my mother gave me is not mine. Phoenix sounds right for me. A new beginning, a new life. I will make a boy out of this body.

I'm 15 and scared to tell my family. Over the years in my head I know I am a boy but my body tells me differently. I tell my family that I am a boy. I'm scared and they don't say anything about it. Maybe they think if they don't say anything it will go away. But I am a boy

I tell my teachers and they call me he instead of she. I feel like me. Other students call me a girl but can't they see I am a boy

I go to a store and get called sir, they see me as a boy, I look in the mirror and finally see me.

A boy
Marisa Dec 2017
Why wear a crown and be asked
If you are a king or queen?
You can just be royal

Any place can be called home
It doesn’t have to be a house
It can be a person
A flower
Your school
A song
A poem
Or anything else
It doesn’t have to be a set in stone house
Or building
So,
For that,
I Am A Wooden Chair
I can be carried anywhere and still feel
As though I am at home

Why do people have to be judged by how they look?
It doesn’t matter if I have acne
If I have tattooed freckles
Or crooked teeth
It’s funny that the things that people call flaws,
I think are cute
Everything that is happening right now,
Doesn’t matter
In a hundred years,
Acne,
Tattooed freckles,
Or crooked teeth
Could be considered
Cute
So,
For that,
I Am A Lover Boy Mouth
I can look like anything I want
And still be cute

Find the David in the marble
Back when Michelangelo
Was carving David,
(WARNING! THIS IS ALL
FAKE, AND JUST A FIGMENT OF MY
IMAGINATION ACTING UP
AGAIN)
He sat at his little stool staring at marble
He said,
“My boi!!!
Yessssssss!”
And that’s how David was made…
Okay,
Okay,
I’m kidding,
But there’s one thing that I do know
When Michelangelo was creating David,
He actually had a block of marble
And saw the David in the marble
Before he even started carving
You can take that many different ways
With your life
With school
You can take that with whatever you want
So,
For that,
I Am A David In A Mask
The reason that there is a mask on David
Is because,
There is a poem by
Shel Silverstein
Called
“Masks”
It’s about two people who are blue
And
Are trying to find people like themselves
They pass right by each other and don’t even know
That they were both blue
Because they didn’t pay attention
And didn’t show who they were to the world
So
For that,
I Am A David Wearing A Mask

It’s crazy how life can be thrown at you
And
You get the wind knocked out of you
But your lungs burst for the taste of air
So you get up and keep walking like nothing ever happened
So,
For that,
I Am A Wrestling Mask

You look at someone with a crown on their head
And ask
“Are you a king or queen?”
But why can’t we just be?
Why can’t we just be ourselves?
Why can’t we just be royal?
Why does there have to be a gender involved?
So,
For reasons that I do not want to explain
For reasons that I do not want to get scolded for
I Am A Cactus
Wearing A Crown

There is no way to say that anything is perfect
There is no way to say that anything is not perfect

There is no way to say that you can’t be a Wooden Chair
A Lover Boy Mouth
A David In A Mask
A Wrestling Mask
Or even A Cactus Wearing A Crown
Just be yourself and you can always be any of these things…..

So,
With that saying…
I Am A Cactus
Marisa Dec 2017
When you are born,
They label you
But then as you grow older,
You are told not to label other people
“But then why am I a girl?”
Your parents ask what you mean
“The doctors gave me a label when I was born
Right?”
They tell you that you are correct and say “So what?”
“So...That means that I can be a boy right?”
They tell you no

When you get into high school,
The boys will look at your *** or your legs
And start to whistle or tell their other guy friends about you
So you start to wear baggier pants and longer shirts
They stop looking at you
And stop pointing and telling their friends
Now?
Well, now they just laugh
At your baggy pants, and your overly large T-Shirts

When you get into college,
You cry every night because they call you
She, Miss, girl, and everything else inbetween
You cry every night
Wishing
No no no
Hoping that they will wake up and call you
He, Mr. boy, and everything else inbetween

One night you sit in your college dorm,
Your roommate leaving in a short skirt
With a boy that she really likes
And you are just sitting on your bed studying
For that huge test the next day
But you can not
Something is bugging you

You go into the bathroom with the scissors
You think of your old childhood memories,
High school boys and their catcalling,
And now
The very thing that is making you do this

Cutting your hair

You go to class the next day and the professor stops you at the door
“Excuse me sir. Do I know you?”
Yes.
You say
You do. You are the professor who called me she
And everything else inbetween
I would like you to call me something different
The rest of your classmates see this and freak out
“What have you done to your hair?!”
“It was so pretty before.”
You simply tell them that you got tired of it getting in the way

You jump back to the present,
Your kids running up to you,
“Daddy! Daddy, come play with us.”
Your husband walks up and kisses you
With mud filling your mouth
Ew.
You exclaim
What is this? Mud?
You kids.
You laugh and join your family outside
The family that will love and accept you  to the very end
Because they were the ones who helped you with everything
And now feel happy
Finally after all of these years of hiding
And trying to be yourself have paid off

And thus,
Living happily ever after

— The End —