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 Jan 2015
Third Legacy
When a boy thinks of a girl

his cheeks don't go red,
nor do his pupils dilate
but his heart beats as fast
as a horse's gallop in race

His lips strongly tremble
in the midst of conversation
his legs that won't settle
due to headstrong infatuation

her beauty overwhelms him
her cold hand warms his heart
her gaze,  like Medusa's
a romantic work of art

his thoughts full of appreciation
for whatever form she may have
a wonderful mem'ry,  imagination
a thought that can't be grasped

his thoughts he can't express
his mouth he cannot open
his words he can't confess
but his heart, ť was always broken

but all this is not really
'bout when a boy thinks of a girl
because in these words you can tell
that he had always loved her.
does the girl think of the boy?
 Jan 2015
ryn
How are you?
I'm alright I guess...

Where do we begin?
Maybe at the start of this mess.

Are you uncomfortable?
I can't say that I'm not.

Is it your past?
Well it's all I've got.

Do you still get nightmares?
Well I used to...

Will you let them show?
Depends on you...

What do you hope to accomplish?
I don't know... Peace of mind?

Would you have done things differently?
Everyone wants the chance to push "rewind".

Care to elaborate?
Let's just say I would've liked to be braver.

What do you mean?
I should've stood up to my father...

Did he abuse your trust?
He did more than just that...

Rob you of your freedom?
Let's see... His belt, cigarettes and also boiling water out of a vat.

Do you wish him ill?
I wished him dead.

"Wished"?
Yeah...in his bed.

Why "wished"?
Because I wanted that then...

For how long?
Since I was ten.

What about now?
(
Maniacal smile) I am now... At peace.

"At peace"?
I have found release.

You have?
Yes... I couldn't resist the urge.

Urge to do what?
To comply with the voice... "
Freedom...lies in the purge..."

You left your father?
Yes but not before...

Go on...*
Not before I slit his throat with a smile on my face as I shut the door...
Inspired a programme I watched on the crime channel.
 Jan 2015
Tide Islands
Whenever someone
offers me a ride,
I always refuse, and
they are confused as to why.
They don’t hear the
screaming inside my head
or see blood-soaked
sheets on a hospital bed.
They never saw your
black and blue skin
or know that it’s killing me
somewhere deep within.
They don’t understand why
a wreck’s called a wreck.
After it happens,
you can never forget…
Sure, chances are
it won’t happen again.
But I can’t stop thinking it will,
so I won’t get in.
Besides, I don’t mind walking
home in the snow or rain,
No one can see that I’m crying;
it disguises all of this pain.
 Jan 2015
Lottie
Rationally, I know everything's fine
Rationally, I know it won't happen again
Rationally, the memories should make it easier for me to handle now,
Rationally, I should feel better.

Irrationally, I find myself screaming
Irrationally, I find myself crying
Irrationally, I feel worse now than I did when the world was falling in,
Irrationally*, I feel alone.
This helped Chris understand a little bit
 Jan 2015
JustChloe
Did you know there are 12 year old kids in America who can't spell the name of the teacher they are having *** with?
Just wanted to point it out.
 Jan 2015
JustChloe
Its unanimous
In otherwords all the shy people shut up
Forget what you think and put your hands up
Its unanimous
Your mouth is shut
All the word unanimous does
is throw the whispers in the dust
 Jan 2015
JustChloe
We are all depressed
Just admit it
No one in this world sends to fit it
Forget happiness
Grow a pair and live with it
 Dec 2014
MysteryBear
I can't help but cry when a baby cries for her mom as though she could make things alright again. It reminds me of my mom when she cried for grandma in her sleep to take away the pain of her terminal illness but all I could do was watch.
Not as much a poem as a confession
 Dec 2014
Devon Webb
I had to look up
the word
'dating'
on Urban Dictionary
because I didn't know
what we were,
what we are.

And it said things like
'a socially acceptable
form of prostitution' and
'feelings of
puppy love that usually
dissolve
in a few weeks'.

But this is
not
puppy love.
This is not going to
dissolve or
fizzle out or
whatever,
you're not a
fizzle
you're a *******
fireworks display.

And you turn
everything in my head
into this
multi-coloured
turbulence and
I can't keep up with
how much I
adore you.

But the thing is
I don't know
if your view
is as good as mine.
What if you're
looking at something
a little less
beautiful.

What if I'm your
fizzle.

What if I'm as
temporary
as the flame you use
to light the
cigarettes
you find more
addictive
than my touch.

If that's the case
I'd rather
I left you
craving.

Because
if I'm your flame
you're my
forest fire
and you're burning
it all down until
the only thing left
standing is
you.

And I'll walk for
miles across this
carpet of ashes
just to feel the
softness of your skin
against mine.

And I'll cough
and I'll splutter
on toxic smoke
but you'll just
breathe it in because
you never realised anything
was even
lost.

You don't see me
crawl
you just know that
I'm here,
I'm here
I made it
I'm yours
I'll always be yours
because there's
nothing else
left.

And maybe
I can be
content with that
if only
you will see
that
you could burn down
everything
and I still
wouldn't put you
out.
 Dec 2014
Devon Webb
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
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