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Apr 2014 · 245
As I sit
brooklyn Apr 2014
As I sit here,
in this class
I feel the stares.

People were looking
at me,
the way I looked at myself

As I sit here,
in this class
I try to hold back the tears.

I can't let them fall,
I must seem strong.
Jan 2014 · 267
How?
brooklyn Jan 2014
how was it that easy
to drop everything
and give up on me?

how was it that easy
to forget the memories
and never speak to me?

how was it that easy
to feel happy
knowing what you did to me?

please teach me how.
Dec 2013 · 250
Written
brooklyn Dec 2013
It kills me inside,
It really does.
I know you will never
feel the same about me.
How could love a girl like me?
So many mistakes,
errors,
and they aren't hidden.
Each and everyone is written,
in the scars on my skin.
Dec 2013 · 225
How Come?
brooklyn Dec 2013
it was obvious.
she showed it.
in her voice,
in her eyes.

how come you didn't see it?
how come you didn't care?
home come you waited until it was too late?

how come?
                                                   (b.t.)
Dec 2013 · 230
You
brooklyn Dec 2013
You
I'm not just in love with you.
I am in love with the sound of your voice,
The smile you make when you are happy,
The sparkle in your eyes,
& mostly..
I am in love with you
for being who you are.

                                           -b.t.
Dec 2013 · 378
What Did I Do?
brooklyn Dec 2013
What did I do wrong?
Where did I mess up?
Was it my personality?
Should I change?
I don't understand.
What happened to us?
I things where going to get better,
but it only got worse.
Dec 2013 · 420
Hidden Away..
brooklyn Dec 2013
Hidden away in the back of the drawer,
is a letter my father wrote me from his prison cell.
It contains words that were fastly written
with the tip of a ball-point pen.
It asked for forgiveness.
It contains promises of never going back.

Hidden away in the back of the drawer,
is another letter written 2 years later.
With the  same fastly written words,
asking and promising for the same things
that were once said before.
Dec 2013 · 642
Unspoken
brooklyn Dec 2013
She remained unspoken.
She believed her words were a waste of air.
She didn't like the sound of her voice.
She hated the words that were never heard.
She thought nobody would listen.
She was so caught up in her thought.
She didn't notice.
She was standing in front of someone who listened.
She was right in front of him.
She didn't say anything.
She just left, without saying goodbye.
this is my first poem on here so it probably isn't too great.

— The End —