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 Nov 2020 Abby
solus
long gone
 Nov 2020 Abby
solus
sometimes the crows
talk to me
and I imagine
you sent them
from your little
corner of the world

I pretend they
say "I miss you"

because truth be told
I miss you
too.
 Oct 2020 Abby
solus
some days the warrior
some days the worrier
and i'm never more
unsavable
than the days your
absence hits the hardest -
when everything smells
like you, and i hear your voice
the clearest and the
soundtrack in my head
is the alternating verses of you
telling me you love me
and telling me to use a sharper
knife next time -

these are the days
i find myself the
most numb,
trembling, aching for sleep,
for an escape from the pain
that comes with missing you
so deeply
even after all this time.
 Sep 2018 Abby
Adrianna
I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped to exactly how we want to be perceived
We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be.

It starts with a few edits doesn't it,
pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed,
that would seem most acceptable right?
Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist.
More reassurance for brighter colors.
Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends
   Another like
Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to
     Another like
We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success,
       Another like
But what are we enjoying?
         Another like
Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view.
           Another like
Events pass by swipe
             Another like
and swipe
               Another like

And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp
We always come back
Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab
Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in
To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings
For without this world, maybe eyes will open
We will step past the boundaries,
and start to love our beings
unfiltered
I really do not like the social norms of having the staples of social media, it is a toxic area that traps us in an infinite loop of trying to upgrade one another
 Sep 2018 Abby
Janelle M Rivera
The cries I never had to hear
ring in my head;
keep my heart heavy.
Cries of loved ones;
cries of lost ones.
        Gunshots ring louder.
        Voices grow quieter.
Faces become shadows.
Lights once flickering bright,
fade into the night.
We scroll quickly with mindless fingers
while they fade like distant memories.
Faces to be forgotten.
Until it happens,
        again.
        No time to mourn.
I fade into an abyss
of news and media
filled with violence;
an abyss called hopelessness.
       We disappear
              into its darkness
                       together.
This piece came from the numbness I felt in reading about all of the shootings that had been done this year. I was overwhelmed and wanted to take time to mourn but even trying to do that was overwhelming. I believe that real change can happen but, there are times when you just feel paralyzed. This poem doesn’t have to only apply to shootings in the U.S. but can be related to any systematic acts of violence in the world. I hope that those who read this won’t feel alone in their numbness and know that it’s okay to feel this way.
 Aug 2018 Abby
Matt Jursin
Science says that there's a mathematical equation that explains everything in life.

But I say that not even physics bears an explanation for...the guidelines of attraction.
Our primal reactions are multiplied in...the highlights of passion.

These laws of love that linger like a lanterns lost illumination...
Like the campfire light on a clear night, leaves coals of culmination.

Sweat beads lead to bare threads and bare bodies.
And oh my, how bare bodies lead to imaginations running wild.

Cold winds inspire warm kisses and close skin.
Sincere actions aren't sins.

Bodies wound in union, formed by light and tightly bound.
Together, these twisted vines penetrate the hardest ground...
Together, harmonic souls produce passionate sounds.
Yet, still somehow, love gets lost more than love gets found.

This equation is unending...like numbers off lips that kiss the air.
Body language spoken...Our physical bonds parallel eternity and pi squared.
And you know that every moment that we share is nothing short of...molecular love for the masses...
Now held captive by gravity and magnetism...

See, the last full moon marked retrograde...and if the moon affects the tide of the ocean...and our bodies are roughly 75% water...can we assume that this is the only body powerful enough to keep ours apart?

This gravity...
This pull...
It's pulling me apart...so let me pull you closer, stop pushing me away!
Hold on tight, dont let these planets drift away into a dark rift of decay.

Let your love lap upon this solid stone like a river riffles smooth sandbars into hills of higher ground.

Because baby, without your water on my beach...
I'm nothing but a desert, dry and deserted.
Love, the drug.
 Aug 2018 Abby
Wyatt
Nation, World.
 Aug 2018 Abby
Wyatt
We live in a world full of boosters and budgets. Lawyers, multi-billion dollar companies. Hospital bills and eviction notices clutter our mailboxes. Grieving families have to pay for a tombstone, I’ve never felt so alone. I’ve realized painful truths about where we reside. Our press is begging for clicks and warping truth for views. Most lies, they divide our burdened youth. Addicted to TV screens with little truth in them. The heart of a generation eradicated, we’re numb and dim. With nobody to trust we take to the web. Sheltered in home, we’re in over our heads. Convenience and peace have made us all complacent, lazy and uncreative. Our kids are raised to do what they want, not what they need. Dysfunctional from birth, we’ve become borderline criminals when we turn eighteen. We grow up with no role models to see.

When true wrong occurs here, nobody speaks. Taught to wait until spoken to, sit down and look pretty. Generation on minimum wage, most barely survive. Nation ain’t here to help, Nation says “better luck next time” as they proceed to take you for what you’re worth. No sympathies, no condolences. A pyramid scheme to get in your wallet, the ones who rule over us are ruled by big checks. We’re slaves to slaves, it’s pathetic.

Dead end jobs, we’re imprisoned in cubicles. Living lies, not lives, for other people. Always stuck in “average”, our schools peddle out quantity over quality. Thrusted into adulthood with no favors given, foreign hands in our pockets and loaded guns to our backs, we’re slaves to the system. Taxes, impacted by law we’re bound by in fear. Government control, they rule with absolutes. We’re grey people in a black and white world. To escape men in suits who use deep lingo to bully us, we turn to vices but each one has their own prices. Rising death rate, it no longer shocks me. I’m just in a state of sadness.

Court dates and faux parades to celebrate snow globe “freedom”. Politicians playing poker with leaders as puppets, we drown in dreams and art we make when we’re lost. That’s how you get a Carolina kid writing about suicide because everywhere he looks it just makes him wanna die. No path in sight, there’s burning in my eyes. These words I write are metaphorical cuts on my wrist, pain to subdue pain. After exposed to corruption in this game, I’m no longer the same as I was. Depression’s been a seed in me since I was thirteen, now a jungle of bitterness has grown in me. Clouds cover my mind. Barely able to comprehend my place in this world. I’ve had to give an arm and a leg for artificial happiness because real happiness comes rare, most don’t have the grip to keep it long. Today I’m alive, but I wonder how long? In suicide, I’ll add a digit to a statistic you’ll use to further your narrative when you appear on TV to argue politics. We come back full circle to the roots of our issues and that irony alone depresses me enough. What kind of world do we live in?
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