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 Mar 2015
Sally A Bayan
I
felt
maybe
I had lost
you, the very
same  time  your
messages vanished.
T'was like an O M E N,
that very same time...you
d i s a p p e a r e d,  without
a word. .........How do i tell you,
better i lost you, now...f o r e v e r 
how do i tell you...............never come
back to me----now, later, just stay away 
FOREVER.......Stop these  sLOw   moving 
moments.........I don't need more tormenting 
thoughts................no more strain, no more pain 
for my bleeding....broken heart..........pinned down
lower, by your COLD SILENCE, and INDIFFERENCE.
How do I tell you...............................I'll be fine without you?

Sally

Copyright  2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Mar 2015
Sydney Ann
Hey....                         You
I know you've            heard it before
but you just don't understand how fake we all
look I do it too I try not to you talk about yourselves
don't question life want to be different but end up be
-ing the same on all the things that matter help
me change the world support not all I wa
-nt: to not have to hide and to not be
disgusted with everyone for
neglecting the imp
-ortance
of li
-fe
Please, re-evaluate what's really important, your video-game, or the environment. Vines, or teen suicide. Every little thing counts
 Mar 2015
SøułSurvivør
~~~<(((♥)))>~~~


i love you       i love you
brown brown brown is my true
love's hair / his lips are something
wonderous fair / the bluest eyes
and the strongest hands / i love
the ground where on he
stands - i love my love
and well he knows
i love the grass
where on he
grows



£♡¥€
cath
~~~<(((♥)))>~~~

in case you don't know
that is an old ballad
I know the song says "black" hair
but my baby's hair is brown

this is the kind of old fashioned
love i feel for you my dearest heart

i could love no other
as i love you!

~~~<(((♥)))>~~~
 Mar 2015
ryn
.
............
o|        |o
o|        |o
o|........|o
||||
||||
||||
||||
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•play me a
tune of sweet serenade
•sing me a song of wistful
melody•recite me the words
you would            have said•
now whisper me your sighs
tenderly•paint me the
colours of night and day•write
me the poem of your heart•send me
your love on which I lay•make me the
end to all your starts•strum me the chord
of hopeful bliss•compose me a ballad that
sets my innermost free•so play me your
tune, the one that I would always miss
•and keep singing of us in a song,
so we'd be immortalised in
eternity•
.
 Feb 2015
The Good Pussy
.
                                   E
                          n     n   v      n
                       v         e   l          v
                      e          o   P            e
                     l               e                 l
                   o                E                  o
                   p                n                   p
                  e             v        e              e
                  E            l           o            E
                   n             p      e              n
                    v                E                  v
                      e               n                e
                        l              v               l
                          o           e             o
                            P         l           p
                                 e    o    e
                                       P
                                       e
Class,
repeat
after me:
I am not
my past,
my mistakes
or my shame
or my sorrow
or my loneliness
or my preferences:*
that's
noise,
crap,
icky
mind
junk.
Let
go!
Put
it­

d

o


w
  
    n*


I
am
all my
glorious
truths, and
idiosyncratic
secrets & stories,
their potential
and beauty.
We create our own unhappiness;
we can create happiness just as easily.
The unfortunate thing is that
we don't.
 Feb 2015
Vishnuvardhan
it-
comes
from the
trees .From the
barks of these trees.
Stems of these trees which
grow outside my bungalow.
   And in the forests of many    
countries, cities towns and
in villages.This particular
tree grows outside my
house. It gives me
herbs and helps
with my
sick-
n
e
s
s
.
 Feb 2015
ryn
.
**Crushes and••
infatuations•••
Are but tricks••
played by••••
the heart.••••
Promises•••
of love••••
That could••
tear you apart.••
Though you•••••
look to•••••••••••
The light of day.••••••
Listen carefully••••••••
To what I'm about to say.•••
I may be the one••••••••••
Who'd grace your thoughts••••
all day and night.•••••••••••••
But I implore you•••••••••••••••
to look past tomorrow••••••••••••••
Into the future that's out of sight.•••••••
You are ready to carve••••••••••••••••
Ever so recklessly,••••••••••••••••••
In your heart and thoughts•••••••
And in the words•••••••••
of your poetry.••••••••
But know that•••••••
These sweet nothings•
you chose to lay,•••••
Right now are•••••••
mere words••••••••••
With the intention•••••••
to sway.••••••••••••••••••
I feel the urge•••••••••••••••
To painfully declare.••••••••••
I feel the need••••••••••••••
To tell you what••••••••••
I've longed to bare.••••
That I'm not•••••••••••••
remotely interested,•••••••••
Nor am I taken in.•••••••••••
For your words•••••••••••••
have gone around••••••••••
I know where•••••••••
they've been...••••••
Should've revised••
your material•••••
Before trying•••••
on another...•••••
Because you••••
had conveyed••
the same•••••
to my sister!
Oh snap!

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