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 May 2014
Meenu Syriac
......And she wrote in a frenzy
Breathless and thirsty.
Words to feed her mind
Stories to feed her soul.
And she kept writing, incessantly,
As if it was akin to breathing.......
 May 2014
Abstract Colleague
Due tomorrow:
Lab report
Argumentative essay
Group project
39 textbook pages
I can do this.
Get some coffee and caffeine
Lock the door and close the windows
Put on those sound-blocking earbuds
FOCUS
Keep in mind the future good grade.
In a way this actually sometimes happens to me. Btw a lab report (to me) is 10 paragraphs, a graph, a table, and a cover page. Thank God it only happens 2 times a year.
 May 2014
betterdays
a useless cartographer
i would be,
as all roads
my love would lead me
back to thee..
all seas
would wash upon
thy shore....
all rivers fjords
and waterways
would  be found to flow to your doorstep in a cascading
maze
meridean, ley lines,
all would be  
******* in  bows and attached to your casement windows
mountain, plains, steppes
and vales would rest
adoring, in your garden pails

so i could not
be a cartographer.....no
useless would i be.
 May 2014
Jack
Fragile wings of stained glass rainbows
Endless your uncharted flight
Still I face the window staring
Praying you return this night
~
Longing in this darkest hour
Emptiness my heart does breathe
Forever more I shall be waiting
Eternally I shall believe
 May 2014
Sebastian
She was pretty.
Scratch that.
She was beautiful.
Scratch that too.

She was more beautiful,
Than a sunrise on a winter morning.
Or a rainfall on an autumn day
Where the leaves dance in the wind
And fill the sky with life.
More beautiful than a flower
That breaks through the cracks
Of a concrete garden
And brings color to the air.
She was more beautiful,
Than any poem that's ever been written.

She was beautiful.
Scratch that.
She still is.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
©Sebastian @http://hellopoetry.com/sebastian/
 May 2014
Riptide
I hope my words
Cauterise all your scars
Strobing light your way
I don't think strobing is an actual word but I'm utilizing my poetic license.
 May 2014
meg
I remember when I was in the hospital and I didn't sleep for two days straight because I swore to god that if I did the demons would step out from under the bed and seep into my head.

I remember when it was three am, and I was shaken awake from the girl three doors down shrieking from the night terrors that her mother embedded into her skull with her fist and a belt when she was eight. But, they were then stored away until she was thirteen years old and a man swore that he'd beat her if she didn't cooperate. So, now they hide during the day, and creep back up when the sun falls.

I remember when I witnessed a boy unintentionally scratch at his skin until he bleed for an hour because the voices inside of his mind told him that if he didn't hurt anyone else, he would just have to hurt himself. and he swears he'd never hurt anyone besides himself.

I remember when I met a girl who had cuts up and down her arms and legs from when her mother told her she'd never survive the world because she isn't good enough. But, I swear to god that she was the strongest person I've ever met.

I remember when my roommate stayed up all night rocking with bloodshot eyes and deep purple circles underneath of them because she swore that if she slept the monsters inside of her head would crawl out and bleed into her soul.

I remember when the boy five doors down hit the wall so hard that it shook the entire unit because he hallucinated a man and a little girl trying to strangle him, and he swore he could feel the noose around his neck.  

even through all of this, for some odd reason teenagers think it's lovely to have deep scars and to hear voices telling them to **** themselves and everyone around them. I swear, nothing is lovely about demons eating at your brain and thoughts.

I remember when it was four am, and I was up weeping from the fact that people think my suffering is lovely.

I can swear to you, it's not.
***** hiding that I went to a mental ward. because I think that this is the best poem I've ever written.
 May 2014
Jack
Why does so much sadness have to grip one heart?
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