Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
They said that all that glittered was not always gold
And even your star-struck eyes couldn't be sold
for much of a profit; we were worth a little bit too much
even if half of us couldn't be bothered to give a

piece of the soul to the great big unknown
so you danced to the music and stayed within your zone
but your hips didn't quite move and your behind didn't quite shake
Exam season had you thinking that the last turn-up was a mistake

So you turn't down for everything to become a Top Achiever
and gave your soul to Cambridge because it's clear that you're a dreamer
And that's why your eyes became so suddenly star struck
And how suddenly a past paper was worth a little bit too much

But it was worth it because

Even if one year of your life passed you by...
Even if one year of your life passed you by...
Even if one year of your life passed you by....

...You still wrote your candidate number in sneakers looking fly.

So even though not all of us can become an A*
That doesn't mean that not all of us in life cannot go far
As written in the constellations are the particles of our star-dust
the whole is more than the sum of its parts and so are you my little star-struck

former IGCSE candidate.
See? You really were able to manage it.
IGCSE means 'International General Certificate of Secondary Education.' So basically what you need to get a high school diploma.(aside from the next two years of A-Levels...)
Still fresh
    with that "popping" sound
Not yet throwing
     that dreaded "L" word around
   Starting to fall
         but having fun going down
        
First taste,
     a different kind of feeling
Going slow
          not yet hoping
or dreading
      Just beginning to notice all
           the little things
  Too soon for deeper meanings

      It's all still so new to me
but just recently...
         I had a glimpse of chivalry,
    opening doors and carrying bags
      Actual, honest to goodness, decency!
        Very pleasantly
             surprising....
You don't really wanna know the truth,
Do you?
I'm scared of what you might see,
Or that you just won't believe...
I think I'll try this new thing called
Honesty
Granted, it's not really new to me
I'm all for telling everyone else the truth
But I need to be honest with myself
There's just certain things I don't wanna believe
If everyone else can see,
Then I'm really gonna try for you
I guess what they say is true...
"The Truth Will Set You Free"
This is the first in a series I'll be posting, every evening I'll post a 10w "truth" about myself.  Starting tonight, let's get some honesty trending...
Sometimes

       All of this

           Sanity

   Just makes

            Me

       Go *
*Insane
number one in my 10w truth series
don't dress like a *****,
                                            but remember: your success is based upon how much of your *** they see.

stand up for yourself,
                                            but remember: use the wrong tone, and your husband will beat you.

have fun,
                                            but remember: going out alone and drinking will only end up with you in a stranger's bed the next morning.

make sure you never have to rely on your man for money,
                                            but remember: someone will probably steal your purse while you're out alone.

"no" means "no,"
                                            but remember: you always have to give him what he wants.

**** isn't the victim's fault,
                                            but remember: you were asking for it.

it's your life. it's your body.
                                            but remember:
                                                      ­           it's not.


                                                        ­                                                               (a.m.)
Hi. Please be sure to read the poem in its entirety before commenting, thank you. And just so we're clear: this poem is not in any way meant to degrade women, but rather to point out how society often sends women and girls mixed messages. We tell them not to act like "*****" or "******," and yet everywhere you look there's another song or music video that sexualizes women, and then we blame the victims when **** occurs. We tell them to be independent and stand up for themselves, but then automatically assume they must have done something wrong if they get beaten by their spouses or significant others. We tell them to take control of their lives and bodies, and yet the very next moment, we tell them the exact opposite.

Every two minutes, an American is sexually assaulted. 1 in 4 women will experience domestic abuse in their lifetime.

It's 2014, and I am still a long way off from being a parent. But I wouldn't want my future daughter living in a world like this.

She shouldn't have to.
your love is boring,
to put it nicely.
you
fit too well,
and you write like you're dying --
dripping words of broken hearts
and people made of cracked marble.
you don't believe in young love,
and yet every word out of your mouth
is about the boy that has your mind
(and heart)
wrapped around his finger.
you find beauty in the same self-destruction
within which he finds chaos.
you love him,
he loves you,
and you are finally all you never wanted to be.

but i guess that's all too common
when you pair a thunderstorm
with a tornado.

i guess that's all too common
when you go looking for love
in all the wrong places.

i guess that's all too common
when you fall in love
with a broken compass.


  

(a.m.)
whatever makes you happy, dear.
you always complained
that you were a dandelion
in a garden of roses,
a pest, a **** --
something unlovable.

and maybe you weren't perfect.
maybe you were a bit
rough around the edges
with a crack
here or there.
maybe your seams had come undone
and, if you still insist on being a flower,
maybe you had lost a petal or two.

but what you failed to realize
is that every rose
has thorns.

so maybe they didn't have
as many cracks as you,
as many tears as you,
as many rough edges
as you did,
but god,
they were nowhere near as pure,
nowhere near as lovely
as you were.

we wish on dandelions, dear,
because we trust them.
nobody's ever wished
on a rose,
now have they?
no.
they're too afraid
they'll get pricked,
stabbed,
betrayed.

so maybe you were
the dandelion
hidden in a garden of roses.
maybe you were the outcast,
the misfit,
the odd one out.
maybe you were just a little bit unloved,
and unfairly forgotten.

but what you failed to realize
is that i would have gladly picked you
over the brightest rose
in that silly little garden.

(a.m.)
for a.r.
i wish i could write like you,
the poster child of poetry.
i wish i could tear apart my brain,
seek out all the words worthy of writing,
and paint them onto paper
like an artist in his prime.

i wish i could change lives,
mend hearts,
and enlighten minds,
simply with my words.

i wish i could breathe new life,
new meaning,
into a tragically meaningless string
of twenty-six letters.

i wish i could be like you,
the poster child of poetry.

but i'm not.

in fact,
as we speak,
i am questioning
where to go with this poem,
or whether i should go through with it at all.

as we speak,
my mind is racing,
and yet i can't get a single **** thought down.

as we speak,
life is continuing in its endlessness;
words are being spoken and prayers are being answered and changes are being made;
breaths are being stolen and smiles are being formed and happiness is being spread.


as we speak,
wars are being waged and injustices are being overlooked and hatred is being endorsed;
trees are being burned and rivers are being drained and death is being glorified.


as we speak,
the world is turning;
the clock is ticking;
the world is changing.

and yet

as we speak,
all i can think about
is you.

(a.m.)
this is bad sorry.
Next page