I know it's hard,
I can just imagine your green eyes
puffy and red,
tears streaming down.
I don't know what to say,
but I hope you'll be okay.
I know it's hard,
but it's a part of life,
it's going to happen eventually
to all of us.
You mean the world to me
and it hurts me to see you this upset
I hate hearing you cry.
I hate knowing you are.
I hate that you aren't happy.
I know it's hard,
and one day,
maybe not soon,
you'll go on.
You'll move on and forget.
I promise,
I've been there.
It's hard, I know,
but to reach happiness,
you have to chase that ****** down and catch it
in your hands.

I am stuck between somewhere
and nowhere
searching to be found
but still miles away
it's pitch black here
but I'm okay
feeling not like nothing
but not like something
I'm not living
but I'm not dying
just simply breathing
but I'm okay
close to letting go
but still holding on
but I'm okay
my heart is shattered like glass
broken in millions of pieces
but I'm okay
you left me
without a reason
you left me
to think of the reason
you left me
to cry at night
but I'm okay

[bnm]

Throwing together my world.
Taking it back apart.
Keeping it hidden from everyone.

Throwing the world away.
Starting over again recreating it.
Recreating my whole life.

Freeing myself from within.
Freeing myself from my soul.
Changing my outlook on everything.

Changing my life for the best.
Changing my appearance and my thoughts.
Keeping my life open to anything new.

My poems never trend.
I usually never get likes.
Repost is not in my vocabulary.
Having my poems added to collections is a very rare thing.

I don't mind.
My thoughts weren't meant to be read anyways.
I'm not so special.
I only have two followers who I want reading my poetry anyways.

If your poem won't trend.
If no one likes it.
If its not reposted.
If it never graces a collections touch.
Don't feel sad or unwanted.
It just means your thoughts are too perfect for words.

Maybe the reason we spend night after night
staring at a blank paper
is because the words we so desperately need to write,
are words that have not yet been created.

I don’t live in a lie; I live in a version of the truth.

Everyday is another day
To either repeat my mistakes or consider forgetting this hate
But everyday I wake up and think of two things
First I think of him
Then I think of you
And I'm sorry my heads out of order
Excuse me for crossing these borders
But I still love him
Can I be infatuated with two?
I'd say yes
Because I'll love you both forever
Though we don't talk I can't let you escape my mind for you are every unanswered question I've ever asked and you are every cell I've left unexplored
Meanwhile
You
I love you as of the current
And I've known this for a long while
But I've sailed every inch of your sea and left a trail of small bruises and remanimts of red lipstick
But I don't want you to leave
I'm just afraid I'll go forever without knowing what he'd be like
Afraid of the unknown
Because with you I am home
With you I am free
But when I exit that ******* door it's him
**** I hate how it's always him and never home
But I love you of the current
And I'm sorry
Don't let me go
Don't leave me stranded in this bed without that well memorized map most call a mind, body and soul
I'm only 15
Why do I feel so old?

I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it.

I wasn't mad because I got a bad grade, I was mad because what if I wasn't strong enough to look past his opinion and keep writing? What if that one negative comment made me quit altogether and never share a single word again?

What if he ruined my future because he couldn't look past his idea of what a poem should be?

A poem does not have to rhyme or end with closure or even make sense to everyone who reads it.

A poem simply has to reach part of someone's soul who had no idea that these were the words they had been waiting to hear and these were the words that were meant to save them.

This is what a poem is, not a grade from a teacher or a rhyme in a book. A poem is a method of coping and a way to understand the world with ease.

I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it. But I am stronger than he thinks, and I will continue to write poems that he does not like and I will continue to love them in spite of his opinion.