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 Oct 2018
Mykenzie
I'd like to write,
but ehh...
I'll do it later.
Epitome of all my struggles...
 Oct 2018
Kris Fireheart
Nevermind,
It's never mine,
What I've never done;
Never left behind,
I'd never thought,
I'd never find...

Broken,
Shaken,
Never had a thought;
Never crossed my mind,
Never thought I'd know,
Never thought I'd mind...

Shotgun,
Rusted,
Never thought twice,
Filled my veins with ice,
I've never lied,
I've Never died...

But never's fine,
I've never twice,
Played a game of never mind with my life,
I'll never find,

I'm never fine...
Meh...
 Sep 2018
Mystic Ink Plus
In most instances
I don't have
Any question

Yet have
Lot of answers
Genre: Spiritual
Theme:Self discovery
 Sep 2018
Poetoftheway
,how do you know when
(a human is too broken?)




<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
 Sep 2018
Débijonne
but
how is it
condemnable when we
only choose to
LOVE?
Post-Pride Week blues.
 Sep 2018
Halle
Do you actually want me?
Or just like the thought of me?

Please let me know
If you want me to stay

I want to stay
But only if you want me to
 Sep 2018
Cherisse May
Mirror, mirror,
On the wall,
Why am I
the ugliest of them all?

Is it my teeth?
Is it my eyes?
Is it because I ****
at almost everything I try?

Is it because
I'm not as beautiful
as the other girls
when I cry?

Mirror, mirror,
On the wall,
I wish I could feel nothing
And end it all.
Why are other girls still beautiful when they cry?
Not only do I ugly cry, but I'm just outright ugly.
Horrible to look at; absolutely horrid to the eyes.

No wonder my friends were making fun of me.
 Sep 2018
Audrey
A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover


It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.
 Sep 2018
Cana
My second favourite sentence is.
“I’m going to get coffee”
My favourite sentence is
“Would you like some too”
Notes
None
 Sep 2018
Amanda Kay Burke
If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.
This is the first poem (that I have a copy of) i wrote that I actually thought was good. I was in seventh grade, twelve years old, and I wrote it for a newspaper competition. I knew it was really great but I didn't think I would beat all other applicants in the state in my age group. So you can imagine my surprise I'm sure when I DID win! That is the first time I was proud of my writing. So this one has a lot of special sentimental value. Thanks for reading.
 Sep 2018
AnxiousOcean
You will smile again,
you will laugh again,
you will glow again,
you will be happy again,
you will find peace again,
you will love again,
you will be loved again,

until...

you get hurt again.
do you consider this as a poem?
 Sep 2018
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
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