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 Aug 2015
Nicole Dawn
Dear Mother,
I'm sorry I'm not enough
I'm sorry I'm not smart enough
Not pretty enough
Not talented enough
I'm sorry I'm not graceful
I'm sorry I'm sensitive
I'm sorry I'm not
The daughter you wanted

Dear Father,
I'm sorry I'm not enough
I'm sorry I'm not a boy
Not a basketball star
Not top of the class
Not strong enough
I'm sorry I'm not perfect
I'm sorry I'm not a genius
I'm sorry I'm not
The child you wanted

Dear Sister,
I'm sorry I'm sad sometimes
I'm sorry I'm not the ideal big sister
Not very pretty
Not silly enough
Not open enough
I'm sorry you got stuck with me
I'm sorry I'm not perfect
I'm sorry I'm not
The sister you wanted

Dear Neighbor,
I'm sorry I'm annoying
I'm sorry I'm not social enough
Not doing what you're doing
Not easily excited
Not happy enough
I'm sorry I'm the only one your age
I'm sorry I'm not athletic enough
I'm sorry I'm not
The neighbor you wanted

Dear Family,
You don't care
But I'm sorry
I'm not enough

Dear Friends,
You don't exist
But I'm sorry
I will never be enough

Dear world,
I'm sorry
I wasn't enough

So I'm leaving
*Goodbye
Not committing suicide, it's just on my mind at the moment
I'm sorry for real though... I wish I didn't exist so people could just live their lives and not have to deal with me. I know I'm not worth it. I know I'm not enough
 Jul 2015
The Last Wordsmith
"Why don't you write something happy?"
Because it'd be a lie.
So no I won't write something happy,
not while I want to die.
Poetry isn't something choose,
it isn't just a skill that I use,
I can't make it stop, it's not my choice,
they're not my ideas, they're just in my voice.
 Jun 2015
Dannie Marie
Look into my eyes
What is it that you see?
Do you see inside the pain within?
Can you hear my screams of loneliness
Crying for your soul as I claw at my mind?
The darkness inside, can't you notice
How it swallows me whole
Only to consume what little strength I have?
I'm crippling, I'm fading, I'm nothing.
Perhaps you do not see these pleas.
You only see my plastered smile
And hear my cheery, soft voice.
"Everything is great," I lied.
"I'm dying on the inside, help me." I hide.
 May 2015
Nicole Dawn
Am I okay?

I cry every night,
And can't breathe most days.

I sometimes want to die,
And feel buried by all the lies.

I have a broken heart,
And trust issues.

But also,

I smile at the little things,
And laugh for no reason.

I have hope in my heart,
And light in my eyes.

I am getting stronger,
And I will keep trying.

So:
Am I okay?
No.

Will I be okay?
**Yes
Just keep going
 May 2015
KD
Yes, I am a thinker
But it isn't always a blessing, because
my thoughts are like the sea: Keep pulling me down
I can't help but question every little thing
Sometimes I'm in need of air
Wanting to reach the surface
but I am not a good swimmer
 Apr 2015
Lachlan Smith
What if we cannot see?

The bluest of skies;

the clearest of seas.

The beauty around us

no-one to appreciate its majesty.

What if we cannot taste?

The lips of the one we love

The fresh air, blowing freely.

Or the food and drink provided by the earth

to keep us from the finality of death.

What if we cannot feel?

The one one we hold most dear;

who holds our heart with theirs.

Or to feel the warmth of a fire,

pleasant on our uncovered skin.

What if we cannot smell?

The scent of a flower in full bloom;

It’s aroma intoxicating and sweet.

Or the smells of our home we miss

whenever we are not there.

What if we cannot hear?

The sound of cleansing rain on the window

or the music that speaks to our every being.

Or the sound of a newborn baby

crying for it’s mother.

What if the meaning of life is our senses?

To See.

To Taste.

To Feel.

To Hear.

To Smell.

Would life be worth living,

if we cannot experience it fully?

The intricacies of life all around;

no-one could appreciate them,

how truly perfect they are.

What if we were never born with them?

It’s hard to miss something

you never had to begin with.

So for those who haven’t experienced these sensations.

Life is still worth living.

What if this life is false?

Reality isn’t what it seems?

What if this is all just a dream

and we don’t know any differently?

What if we were never born at all?
This is a poem I submitted in Philosophy and Ethics as an assignment. We had to write a piece about the meaning of life.
 Apr 2015
Aspen
my nail polish is chipped
and my knees are bruised
and my eyes have dark
circles and i don't smile
often and getting out of
bed everyday is almost
painful and i miss too
many people at night
and i stutter when i'm
nervous but at least i'm
not dead yet i guess
 Apr 2015
rained-on parade
Kissing you was like swallowing
the salty, salty sea:

I have corals for ribs,
and seaweed limbs;
my bones are ship-wreck saves
and wishful pennies.

My heart is a sea-shell:
if you put your ear to it,
you’ll hear me screaming, shouting,
pining
for you.
 Apr 2015
Peter Simon
I have always remembered how you danced in my dreams.
The way you interlocked your fingers with mine.
When you kissed me no matter where we were.
And when you poked me at my back and smiled.

I have always remembered that all of those are only in my dreams.
That it's not meant to happen in real life.

That you’ll never hold my hand unless we high-five.
That when you kiss me on my cheek, it’s on a dare.
And when you poke me at my back you just need to tell me something.

I have always remembered how you make the stars lose their light.
The way you smile and I melt.
How you keep me on waking up every morning.
How your face shines among the rest of the crowd.

I have always remembered that all of those I have to keep to myself.
‘Cause you’ll only dance for me…
In my dreams…
 Mar 2015
Mike lowe
I won the lottery last week. I played the mega millions with a jackpot of 60 million hoping 5 numbers could determine the rest of my life.

Where I live, a man won the lottery only 12 miles from me with a jackpot of 127 million dollars.

I try to fathom how that would feel. How I could take everyone I care about and give them anything they ever wanted.

People are talking about it days after and every time it is mentioned, its like glass shattering in my ears. How could someone be so lucky?

He will probably eat the best food and buy the nicest things. But thats all they will be is "things". The money will slowly push family and friends away.

He will no longer have to work, he will no longer have time for people that were there before. Because the money is all thats there.

Maybe I envy him. Or maybe i'm sorry for him. I'm not sure.

I won the lottery last week. I thought of all the things I could do and places I could go.

A 2 dollar winning lottery ticket made me realize that I won. We are all rich! In our own minds.

Our struggle is what makes our character. Our stories is the poetry of life. We win the lottery everyday, most of us just don't know how to spend it.
 Nov 2014
Bill
Sometimes in doing battle,
Conventional weapons are useless.

What good are guns,
What good are knives,
What good are bats,
If the enemy doesn't bleed?

Sometimes in battle,
All you can do is run,
And hope that whatever it is,
That thing chasing you,
Won't be able to catch up.

But if you're unable to run,
And fighting is futile,
What else can you do?
 Nov 2014
Jordan Frances
Anxiety is not a feeling
As some of you may believe
You wouldn't be alone
Because plenty of people place it in the same category as
Sad, angry, elated
But one of these things is not like the others.

You see, anxiety is everything and nothing
All at the same time.
Anxiety is when no matter how spacious the room is
It seems to be getting smaller
Until you can see every intricate detail on every wall
Each corner touches your skin
And flattens your chest
As it rises and falls
Your breath is getting short until it stops
And then you become as functional as a corpse
After all, isn't that what you are?

Anxiety is
When your love stands over top of you
Watching your diaphragm as it rapidly pulsates
Wishing he could hold your hands as they sweat profusely
Wanting to breathe life into your convulsing body
But instead, he cannot even grasp the concept
Of why you are not alright.

Anxiety is
Accepting that your reality is not truly real at all
And deciding to realize that people wish they could fix you
But understanding that they don't know what to do
And you don't either.

Anxiety is
Learning from all the
You're blowing things out of proportion's
And
You put to much pressure on yourself's
When you begin to have these panic attacks
In which you feel like death in imminent
Over trivial things.

Anxiety is
Being with people who love you
And still getting bursts of loneliness
That ignite and explode inside your pores and underneath your skin
The blood flowing silently through your veins reminds you
That you are all alone.

Anxiety is
Relating each and every thing you do
To how you are not adequate
And how you must take charge of everything.
It influences the things that tell you
"Make yourself throw up"
And
"Skip that meal today."
Most times, you shoe it away with every particle of strength that you have
Other times, you are not so lucky.

Anxiety is hard to personify
But it is.
And as I muster up the courage in my soul
And the hope in my being
I realize that those things need not be stored
Because I use them every day as I fight this battle.
We are all waging wars
Mine just happens to be against
This thing that is so intricately woven into the chemistry of who I am.
It is a part of me
But it is not all of me
And my voice is louder than this sickness.
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