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 Jun 2018 Lorenzo Neltje
Art
When matter reflects on itself,
consciousness materializes
into something more tangible
and realizes all of existence
is floating above its head.

Matter turned and governed
by gravity’s hands.
Spun and pulled by
creative fingers,
shaped into round colorful bodies and
tossed into blackness
to dance alone.

Some are given partners,
little moons to set their mood,
to spin their silvery light around them
and sing their songs at night
to put their children to sleep.

Some stay awake for the song,
some watch their slow dance,
and some look up at the milky sky and
wonder if matter thinks about them back.
All it took was a night out in the deep woods
A poet on the run,
he's escaping his own head.
This ******, broken son,
stands to where he's fled.
Quiet; maybe it's best,
that a pen's his only friend.
They're pounding on his chest,
yet only his hand ascends.
So many words wasted,
that he should've said.
"All of y'all are faceless,
to me you're just the dead,"
Because somewhere along the journey,
his humanity faded too.
They laughed and called him 'worthy,'
as his pupils changed their hue.
"Dead, you're all dead!
Can y'all truly not see?
Take your souls, and leave my bed,
before I forget who I used to be"
-
This poem is about fighting mental illness.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
 Jun 2018 Lorenzo Neltje
Geanna
I told her that I was tired of faking it
Faking a smile and a laugh
Tired of trying to be 'Okay'
when i'm not

She told me "Then stop pretending"
It took me awhile before I did that

Now I don't pretend as much
At times I fake a smile and a laugh
Just so they won't feel awkward

People are asking me if i'm
okay
..
Even her

Why tell me to do something
if you're going to
Question it?

Here I am,
lying to her constantly
~ G.P.O
 Jun 2018 Lorenzo Neltje
matthew
unspoken words,
years of silence

it is time
to spread my wings

to embrace;

i am transgender
 Jun 2018 Lorenzo Neltje
skyler
to the boy
who is learning
my favorite song
on piano
just to make
me smile
thank you
for reminding me
that some boys are sweet
like the melodies you play
and not all
are nails on chalkboard

s.s
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