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 Dec 2014 A
M
theology class
 Dec 2014 A
M
as we told each other the greatest things we could think to share
we could all tell
the greatest things we held within ourselves,
strength
attitude
illness
recovery
friends
mom
loss
li­fe
grandma
love-
we know, now, what word the center of our being holds-
we had thought of each other as creatures that spun with the world
around the point that is our own being
everyone else a nameless, faceless being that turns and leaves in orbit
with no center of gravity, no word inscribed on their hearts
that kept them grounded to this earth
but we were wrong.
the world spun,
and we were all still there together.
 Dec 2014 A
M
I never understood people who look back on
their childhood, back to the best most innocent times of their lives
because my years weren't like that
five years was reading, alone in her room
six years was the beginning of cynicism, telling everyone that those blow up animals were not people and never were
seven years was the beginning of understanding social constructs, feeling lonely in kindergarten but not sure why. I watched a girl from across the playground and fell in love and proposed to her in front of the class but the teacher hushed me and hurried everyone away
eight years was my first best friend but the realization I had no female friends and when they told me I was weird I didn't know what to do so I just shut down
nine years was when my friends declared war on me in the school yard and the first time someone expected me to like a boy
ten years was the beginning of anxiety and the first obsession: owls
eleven years was depression, grades dropping, awkward cargo shorts, when I first knew about *** and that year I loved wolves
twelve years was my first love (second if you count the girl in kindergarten) I waited for him outside his mom's classroom and I thought he was the most beautiful of all humanity. he was my newest obsession. I dated that boy with the silly name but we never talked in person and I started feeling something like a crush for my friend sofia. I found someone else to love at my new school and I was forced to admit my sexuality to myself
thirteen years was when I told Pam and everyone at school that I liked girls and I had my first sleepover, my first taste of 'popularity', I kissed my first girl, thirteen was when the anxiety faded away, the world appeared bright and clear. I found God that year. I hurtled through a roller coaster and my parents cursed me out the first time and I loved it, I loved every second
fourteen years was when I recognized my own soul and when others did too, it was when I stopped reading because the real world was good enough, I kissed someone that I didn't love but his lips were warm and the sun was bright that day and he called me 'his girl' and I loved that, if not him.
fifteen years was when I shouldered the responsibility of my impact and I understood what the world needed from me and I was ready to do it, I learned what love looked like that year and I found my favorite genre of
music and I can finally speak in front of people, I have friends that love me and I will never lose myself away from this world because it is finally beautiful, there is no magic of my childhood to return to because the magic is now, I am ready and willing to grow old and throw myself raw into this world with cares and worries because that is what makes life great and at sixteen I hope to lose myself to passion and go crazy with love, I hope to learn how to treat people and hold them close, I hope to become selfless, toss my soul in the fire, I hope there are many dark starry nights and many lonely rainy mornings and many sunny car rides and my birthday is in the winter so my world has always revolved around getting warmer, I was born when it was dark but it got brighter, it keeps getting brighter and bigger and warmer and sixteen will take me further than I ever thought I could go.
just saw your poem and thought about my own life by age. not a 'response', just an independent age poem of my
own. it's also in this really obnoxious free verse so they're hardly comparable. this isnt even poetry it's just sentences^
 Oct 2014 A
Skai
I haven't thought about cutting myself in a while.
Watching the blood pour,
and feeling the sting.
Watch as my troubles bleed out of me,
and forget that anything mattered.
It's been a year since I've cut.
 Oct 2014 A
Rj
Camille
 Oct 2014 A
Rj
You have the warmest look of anyone I've ever seen
When you smile  your moon eyes gleam
You don't realize your pretty the way you are
You don't need to listen to death music to force scars
I see your hurting, and feeling inferior
Because some people, to you, seem highly superior
The amounts of your kindness, and small little winks
Or the way your mind simply,  innocently thinks
You don't need to skip out, or stop eating your meal
Your amazing the way you are
Your amazing as **Camille
I'm writing a poem for everyone strugglin
 Oct 2014 A
Rj
Untitled
 Oct 2014 A
Rj
I hide myself behind sweatshirts
So when people see me
They don't make an assumption
Based on little scars
Because I refuse to be thought of as the girl who cuts. Look at me and think happy. So if I write poems about cutting, please don't assume emo, depressed girl. Because if you know me I'm defiantly not that.
 Sep 2014 A
M
what does one do
 Sep 2014 A
M
what does one do
when the universal dew no longer
contains galaxies? your skin does not smell
of silence and the freshness
of the sunrise has baked away
all that is eternal- and yet, tomorrow
will rise again, pulsing the endless heartbeat of
loading, loading, loading, in this vast connectivity of life
and death
and never quite there?
what does one do
when death grabs you by the hair and drags you out the door
and you are confused with the awareness
that you are not self aware
but your soul claimed the knowledge that one day, soon,
it will die, and all things live and progress
and end- people are things as well- we are scared that
the last thing that's left in the world is not true-
we shall pass, you shall pass, the grass regrows
but it too ends- and now, it is not the same- for we know
the grass has only the appearance of eternity,
and the sun dies each night, and your grandmother
will one day not be here, and neither will you,
your soul shines bright but all matches burn out
cannot live through the lives of those it ignites-
even your children are not a lasting legacy of you
they are only a legacy of themselves- their time will end too.
so, what does one do?
 Sep 2014 A
Rj
I love:
 Sep 2014 A
Rj
Eating goldfish when watching movies
When my dad says he's proud of me
When I get reassuring hugs from friends
When I have a laughter filled day
Late night conversations, and cute snapchats
Racing and beating the boys in PE
Looks flashed from down the halls
When we sing and she plays guitar at lunch
Goosebumps from listening to a song
The thought of fall approaching
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