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 Mar 2014
k
Is this the story you want to be a part of?

All of the mess
the upsets
the tears and tissues
the irrationalities
the humanness and flaws
that stitch together
this imperfect person.

I am me.
Unfortunately.
But it is who
I will always be.

I'm hoping you're okay
with this humanness of me.
The awful and beautiful things
that make me the girl I was
and the woman I hope to be.
 Mar 2014
Jay
god
I pray to a god I don't believe in
To save me from a world
He supposedly created
But what kind of god
Leaves the people he created
To die and suffer
From the drugs he put here
From the alcohol he brewed
You are not the kind of god I need
The god I worship
Is at the bottom of a bottle
After a few dozen swallows
He comes to save me
I've seen him every night this week
I keep drinking and smoking
Hoping next time
He won't leave me
 Mar 2014
JNW
I'm a wreck, ma
A mess

                                  Alone

and depressed
There are people all around
And there is a smile on my face
But no one heard my cries
No one had seen the pain in my eyes

Everything looks like greyscale
With a twist of red
                                            Red.

It was only on me, ma
My whole body
Was   b r o k e n    and damaged
There were marks everywhere
Small cuts
                             Where the red came from
Does no one still see?

I'm standing on a busy street, ma
Trying to scream
But everyone just walks by
I feel my lungs filling up
      I'm
           d
               r
                  o
                     w
                  n
                i
            n
        g
But everyone around me is breathing

I'm up on a building now, ma
Holding my breath
I'll jump, ma
Do you hear me now?
Are you listening?
Can you understand?
Huh, ma?
I can't hear you.


                          It's too late now, ma
I'm gone.

I'm staring up at the clouds now
People are rushing to my side
Is this all it takes?

"This child must have slipped"
                     No ma'am
I seeked your attention
I wanted someone to listen
I needed your help long ago
And you didn't care

"They were a good friend"
Wait who are you
We've never talked
Suddenly everyone is sad
How come?
Well, ma
I've been sad for a long time
How come you didn't notice earlier?

It's funny when you're not a 'pretty face'
Because then no one cares until you're dead
But then you are pretty
And now everyone cares.

But I'm sorry, ma
You are too late
You should've noticed earlier
Good bye, ma
I'm happier now
                            *Not by your side
Suicide takes it's toll
Make sure you pay attention to everyone
People need help
Be there for people
Love people
Don't waste time hating everyone
We all need someone once in a while.
 Mar 2014
Monica Belle Brand
It's a sad, sad life.
  
Going through days without worry,
                                       without fear,  
                                            of being judged by someone in the sky you've never met.

It's heartbreaking and pathetic.

Following morals that feel right,
                                       felt in your heart,
                                           instead going by ancient word in a "holy" book.

I am stupid, I am ignorant.

I believe differently than you, and I shall be outcast,
                                                      condemened to eternal hell,
                                                         because you disagree with me.

Is this what your "God" really wants?
I usually don't go bashing religions, but today I've felt particularly upset and offended, especially since my own mother told me I was "stupid" after I told her I was an Atheist.
 Feb 2014
Nadia DeLevea
My love for you is like a new box of tissues,
You keep using more, pulling one more out,
It seems as if there is an infinite amount,
Never running out.

You don’t even think about.

You use one more tissue,
Just a little more love whenever you need me.
But you don’t realize I’m not a what,
Realize WHO you are using.

Just use another, two at a time.
Discarding with ease.
One more,
Two more,
You can’t possibly run out.
Soiling it,
Crumpling it,
Then throwing me out.

But one day you’ll pull the last tissue,
Leaving nothing but an empty box.

Then what will you do?

I am not just a box of tissues.
My love WILL run out.
If you keep on using me,
Throwing my love away.
*I will leave you.
Tissue Love™  By Nadia DeLevea
 Feb 2014
Chris
Mom
You sit here telling me I am to emotional
You sit here telling me I give you shame
You sit here telling me I am nothing
You sit here telling me about your awful life
You sit here telling me to stop playing the victim
You sit here telling me you were a straight A student
You sit here telling me that this house is all you have left
You sit here telling me that I am going to end up like my father
A lier, theif, crook, and a bad husband

However you, mom are were I get my emotions from
However you, mom bring shame to the name
However you, mom aren't even important to me
However you, mom have made your own mistakes
However you, mom cry about how you're always the victim
However you, mom dropped college and is now struggling
However you, mom don't even realize that once had me
However you, mom make me choose him over you

You mom bring tears to my eyes
You mom are overprotective and crazy
You mom yell at me for doing nothing
       When you sit here yelling at me that I am nothing
You mom could have changed your life forever with me
You mom are the victim of yourself
You mom are underpaid and dropped out of college
        Look at where those all important grades got you
You mom were once the color of my life
         And now you are out of my crayon box
You mom took me away from you, when you chose a house over me
You mom are the sole reason that I want to be my father

I would rather be a bad husband and a good father
Then be a ******* dad and a good husband.
Your not even a good wife either you don't deserve the name mom, Debbie.
 Feb 2014
Alaska Young
I picked a flower near the sidewalk.
Placed it on her hair, with outmost care.
I told her, never listen to all of them.
My pretty dear, reject your fear.

The next day, I picked another flower.
Pinned it in her chest, where it looks best.
I told her, be brave my angel.
You may fall down, but don't ever frown.

I stringed some flowers.
A pretty necklace, giving her such grace.
I told her, you are my precious.
Head up high, not letting out a sigh.

And one day, I picked a flower.
Placed it on grave, the last one I gave.
You are now in heaven, my love.
I promise you I'll try, I won't ever cry.
 Feb 2014
Renee Yvonne Chen
When people you know become people you knew,
When friends become strangers you just can't get through to.
Change happens so quickly as time rushes past,
You can try all you want, but close ties just won't last.

The crooked smile you once sought can't be found,
In its place a cold, deep, unfamiliar frown.
This path that I take, it's all on my own,
There's no trace of the warm house I'd once called a home.

I try to let go, escape old memories with age,
But the harder I try, the tighter the cage.
Memories once false, now memories true.
Rosy retrospection, now splotches of blue.

The pleasant memories, once neat and pristine,
Full of pastel colors: pinks, yellows and greens,
Now sneer scathingly, they're superficial and fake.
The past, once so beautiful, now a giant mistake.
 Feb 2014
Graced Lightning
It's just a bite, what harm could it do?
It triggers a domino effect, because one bite invariably turns into two, and three, and four and all of a sudden you're eating.
But you can't do that, because being skinny will make everything better.
You look in the mirror, hoping to see ribs and spine and hip-bones. You stretch your skin farther over your bones, and watch the fat melt away. You are skinny, and you are indestructible.
Nothing fits.
You shop for new clothes
but they sag in all the wrong places.
Nothing pulls over your chest the way it used to, instead it hangs there limply.
There are inches of extra fabric behind your thighs.
Your hips used to be graceful and womanly, but now you look like a pre-pubescent child.
Being skinny just isn't fun anymore.
But you can't go back, because you remember times when you'd stand in front of dressing room mirrors and clothes would s t r e t c h over your stomach and hips and thighs and *******. Everything would be too tight in all the wrong places.
It is either skinny or fat, never an in-between. You can never be "healthy" because that's fat too.
And the food is still on your plate while all of this runs through your mind and it almost kills you, because it's JUST A BITE.
but it isn't 'just' anything. it's a big deal.
So you leave the bite behind and your stomach begs you for something, anything. And then you see the candy.
The chips.
The diet sodas.
The protein bars.
The brownies.
The ice cream.
The milkshakes.
And suddenly you are out of control, eating it all at once and you can't stop. It goes in but it HAS TO COME OUT.
So you lock yourself in the stall.
You tickle the back of your throat with your pointer finger and it comes back.
Purple,
Orange,
Blue.
Unnatural colors that come from processed foods.
Red,
yellow,
green.
And you are empty again,
crying on the bathroom floor
with no one to save you.
 Feb 2014
Savannah Becker
I still order chicken strips
(with a side of fries)
And when my cartoons go off
Sometimes I have to cry

I still kick my covers off
And refuse to sleep with socks
And when I go to the candy store
I still get sugar rocks

My Barbies still have boyfriends
(and better hair than me!)
My dessert is still 99% sprinkles
And 1% ice cream

My stuffed animals still have names
And they have feelings, too
I can't sleep with only one
I invite the whole **** crew!

I still have my night light
(shh! Don't tell my friends!)
And my math is still not very good
"5 plus 5 is 10!?!"

Despite my inner child
And my silly pointless fears
It seems in 15 years of living
I've aged a hundred years
 Feb 2014
Erin Joan
Girls push past me

Stylish combat boots

Finding basement stairs 

Tight pants, low-cut shirts

And straightened hair.

Their mascara-ed eyes scan and skip

The spot where I stand.
But I’m grateful for

The lack of acknowledgement. 

If their eyes lit up on me

I would freeze

My shoulders would scrunch

And the words they would throw

In my direction

Would meet brick wall. 

All I would reverberate

Is a hesitating smile

Accompanied by unsure eyes.
My brain just isn’t taking small talk tonight.

And I will never understand 

Why cursory conversation

Slaps me in the face
like a 
20 step algebraic equation.

The truth is:

I don’t care what you thought of that math test

I wanna know what you think 
of trees in the fall.

I don’t care what your tweet was about.

I wanna know why you 
were on twitter
at 4 am

on a school night.

I don’t care how your boyfriend is.
I wanna know where you stand with god. 

I don’t care
where you got your dress,

how much you studied,

or if you dyed your hair.

What makes you cry at night?

Have you ever felt insane?

Do you believe in soul mates? 

What do you think about the moon?

Which song are you embarrassed to know all the words to?
And do you ever worry that your mom isn’t proud of you?

I just find that

It’s so much easier

To talk to people

When they’re actually

saying something.
 Feb 2014
Zev
My whole life I've been told
     to act my age
But what does that
     truly mean?
I have two different ages
    one that I look,
one that I feel.
So which
am I supposed to be,
  or is it something
     in-between?
I still watch Disney movies
   I know the words to all the songs
But at the same time I've seen other movies,
  movies with violence, gore, and ***
So which one is my age?
I sleep with stuffed animals
I'll usually be reading
    a fairy-tale.
Yet my dreams don't involve
            happily ever after,
my dreams are harsh,
     full of reality.
That feels like a
           dream.
I'm somewhere
   in-between.
People keep telling me
      "Act your age."
But I don't know my
               age.
In fact I don't think
   I have one.
Growing up is
not a thing,
So I can never
  truly grow
          up.
Like Peter Pan
                   I
am stuck in a perpetual
          NeverLand.
Never really changing
Never truly aging.
   It's impossible to
            grow up,
so why do we try?
I don't know why.
  But I will never ever
      never
             Grow Up.
(And really why should I?)
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