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 Apr 2014
Chalsey Wilder
All these whispered thoughts inside my head
They hate me
I hate me
I'm fat
I'm shy, awkward, and quiet
I'm not beautiful either
Not like other girls
I'm different
I'm weird
I'll never be loved by any guy, even if I loved him
None of my dreams would seem to come true
I won't be the writer I want to be
I won't get married and have kids like I want to
And I'll go out like Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, but without my Romeo because he won't exist
Or I might drown my sorrows in my own blood and wine
Red wine
The blood of wines
I'll drink it down till I don't feel anything anymore, but warm tingles and numbness
I might fill up the bath and grab something to end my pain
But even that is a dream
And it won't come true
None of them do
I've seen better people fail
I'm no better
At least I don't believe I am
*This is what I think of me...
People say it's all in my head, because I don't believe I'll succeed. I want to believe that, but it is hard, because I've seen better people fail. I've seen more than can believe and it makes me look at my future as a big fail. And it's true I'm not beautiful just look at my profile picture. I've never felt comfortable being who I am. I've always wanted to be something else
 Apr 2014
Chalsey Wilder
Who am I?
What am I?
I am a girl who can't ever be defined by few words

How do you define something you have never come across?
How do you define what you have came across, but don't know how to describe correctly?
And you can only describe it in a few words
The words aren't enough
It's a part of what I am
But not who I am
How do I define myself so I can fix myself?

Everyone is a mystery to themselves
I know what I do or don't like and what my intentions are
I'm sure everyone else does

But who am I?
What is my essence?

I thought I defined myself before
But those are only words that could change at any moment

I am still those words
But
I think there's more to me than just those few words

Who am I I ask
I say *I am myself
I'm still confused about who I am. I haven't found me yet.
 Apr 2014
ms reluctance
We float and we fly;
We try to outrun the wind.
We get lost sometimes,
only to find our way back
to our inane mundane lives.
NaPoWriMo Day #3
Poetry form : Tanka
 Apr 2014
Kaye B Anderson
Wake.
Shower.
Eat.
In the car.
Find a seat.
On the train.
At work.
Make a sale.
Tuck in your shirt.
Eat.
Drink.
Laugh.
Stop - No time for games.
Make a sale.
Again.
And again.
Belittled.
Not recognised.
Meet your targets.
Don't get fired.
Work after work - No pay.
At the station.
Back on the train.
Find a seat .
None found - Must stand.
What's that smell.
Feeling cramped.
At your Destination.
Back in the car.
Meet every red light.
Home feels so far.
Finely there.
Eat. Shower. Sleep.
**Life is not fair.
 Apr 2014
Mehar Bawa
And I knew this girl,
She straightened, she curled
Just to meet up the idea of beauty
To impress others she felt it was her duty.

She was fat and chubby,
Nevertheless she was always called grubby.
She never fit their idea of beauty
Ha! How she thought it was her duty!

Size zero was something she wanted but never got.
And so all they did was leave her to rot!
She hated herself for the way she looked.
But who knew, deep inside real beauty she cooked.


Her beauty was inevitable
But how the world saw her was terrible.
So what if she never fit their idea of beauty?
Little did she know,it was never her duty!
 Apr 2014
Kaye B Anderson
Corners.
Corners.
Everywhere I look there are corners.

Windows,  no windows.
No doors.
No brightness, no light.
No escape in sight.

Cornered, I feel cornered.
They're pointing fingers.
They are. Who are they?
Who are they to tell me,
To sit between corners.

Corners, I feel cornered.
They are trying to erase every memory,
Making me lose track.

Corners, around the cornered.
When you feel cornered,
Look carefully,
There might be a crack.
Another poem about today's society, being pushed and cornered into who you are 'meant to be' in everyone else's plan for you, not your own.
 Apr 2014
Kaye B Anderson
Why am I here?
What is there to complete?
Is there some kind of mission?
Must I compete?

What is my life meant to compromise of?
This can't be it.
Born empty handed.
Naked - No start-up kit.

Find yourself they say.
Where do I begin?
A life full of tempters,
Though no tolerance for sin.

"Come one, Come all!" they shout,
Promising excitement.
A step into a shade of grey,
An unknown world of enticement.

A life full of tempters,
Though no room for sin.
Find yourself they say.
**Where do I begin?
 Apr 2014
Kaye B Anderson
See there,
Be there,
Hear there,
Breathe there.

Though you're here, Not there?
Pressure - to be there.
To see there,
To hear there,
To think, live and breathe - there
Pressure - to be there.
Unfair.
Pressure - to be untrue,
To be everything,
**Everything but YOU
Poem on the pressure's of today's society - letting go of one's true dreams and desires, needs and wants, to go along with what society has labelled wrong, right, better or worse.
 Apr 2014
Éan Richardson
Hurling insults, trading blows,
These are the evenings I hate the most,
Let’s paint a smile for the world,
Paper over freshly wounded words.
And I sit on my bed,
The bleeding knight,
Stifling my sobs,
Because they’re don’t deserve
To hear my shame,
That I backed down once again.
I let go of what I believed,
Lost hold of what I seek,
Forgot what I’d found.
We don’t agree,
That is clear.
But why must I always be,
The one to bow?
One day, soon, not soon enough,
I’ll turn the tables,
But for now I turn away,
I hide my sorrow.
I can not look at myself,
(did you not know?)
In a mirror,
When all I see,
Is my mother’s looks,
And betrayal and hate,
Hacked into my four year old self’s face.
And why must it be,
Because you come from the generation,
Where for me to speak my mind is a crime.
Where my desire to be seen,
As equal to my brother, a joke.
And where my feelings,
Are simply empty words,
Silken cobwebs in autumn frost,
Easily brushed aside.
Had I been born a boy,
I do not think I’d have this problem.
But it does not do well to dwell on,
If’s and could haves.
I can not escape,
I am trapped,
I bolt to my hole,
Like a frightened rabbit,
But the ferret it is in my home.
Where could I go that they would not follow?
When even society itself,
Is fighting against me.
Passive aggressive.
Constantly tripping me,
Telling me how,
I should dress and act and think.
And when Victims of ****
“Deserve what they got,
For wearing a skirt too short”
And a family man,
With two kids,
Is beaten to death
Because the person he loved,
Happened to be a man too.
When young black men,
Are stopped and searched for no reason,
Other than they “look suspicious”
By a white police officer.
When people vanish,
And no one cares,
Because biology and society told them one gender,
And their mind another,
How do I stand a chance?
I actually feel pity for my parents,
It’s not their fault that
Society told them to live a certain way.
But something is their fault,
Because after all,
They’re the ones who chose to
Blindly obey.
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