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I don't know...
It would just be nice
If for once
They noticed my heart or my mind
Before my body...
You know?
Most humans drink coffee and wine
They consume television and mainstream novels
They feed their souls with popularity contests and safe relationships

But poets
We could not survive without passion, intensity, and meaning
Everything we feel is felt to the depths of our souls
We are the ones to put into words the unspeakable pain of heartbreak
The incomprehensible joy of falling in love
We are the ones brave enough to say out loud the diaries of a thousand souls

Us poets
We drink tea and whiskey
Hi, I'm Hannah
I'm a depressed optimist who likes to write
Confused?
Maybe, it'll make sense after I explain it
I have depression and often times I am sad
I get quiet, awkward, and guarded
But at the same time I am very optimistic
I always think that things will always get better
So I describe myself as a depressed optimist
I've never met anyone else like that
I don't believe there are too many people like me
And because of that I write
And I publish it to the world for anyone
Who needs someone like me
I may not make a big impact
But maybe I will inspire someone
Or make friends with someone
Anyone who needs someone who they can relate to
But who they can also go to while searching for optimism
So...Hi, I'm Hannah
And I'm a depressed optimist who likes to write
I want to help people.  And I think I can use writing to do that.  If anyone ever needs anything feel free to message me.  Anytime.  If I can help anyone or at least be there for someone I will have always dreamed to do.
 Dec 2016 Connor Thompson
Corvus
I'm locked in a cage.
Half my body spilling out through the bars;
Arms bent, snapped bones piercing through skin,
Stretched out, reaching for the key that gets further away.
Other half still held captive, hidden in the darkness
Of the secret that never wants to be paroled.
I want to escape, but the jagged limbs have formed a knot
And I can neither be pulled out through the gaps of the bars,
Nor back into the depths of repression.
I'm half free and half trapped,
And those two states of being cancel each other out.
I am nothing.
.
I cradle my head
in my palms

There's an inerasable vision
of hearts and bones
inwoven in a spider web

Untied forget-me-nots
writhing disentanglement

A collage of all the dead roses ,
tawny petals bestrewn across
a fallow frozen mind-scape ;

hidden behind eye-lid's
hesitantly arising curtain

just like a noir movie screen

I saw love disfigure me



                                                       *wild is the wind ... December 4th, 2016
written in a spilled pensive moment
I may need a title that helps flush out
the underlying unspinning a cocoon ?
It was wrong
It felt bad
Should not have
Done that

Betrayed I have
The trust of one
Which was won
Over a time long

Am I so heartless
So devoid of emotions
Shouldn't I see
Beyond my self

Can't think of
Any other way
To seek repentance
And thus I confess
A chance was taken
Thought hope there is
Leaving this story incomplete
Won't be a thing right to do

And thus it goes on
The script though seems
To have come to an end
A void there is

It seems of no consequence  
To continue this charade
Need to ask that question
The question which started it all

But then it hits
Why cause pain
For a gain momentary
This is not what I am

Breaks me it does
But at least
It's just me
That it breaks
Attempting to draw parallels
Disregarding the dimensions interfering
Always anxious that
Lost might be the lead

Termed it might be 
As a struggle fruit less 
Understood it has to be
Perspectives are there many

With shifting sands of time
Shifts a man's mind
Going places never imagined
As the control is handed over

Reigns ending up in hands
Trusted which can't be
Throughout this soundtrack that I call my life,
       your heart is the beat,
          your voice is the lyrics,
   your soul is the slow and steady rhythm,
             your kisses are the chorus
       and your face is the album art.
Without you,
  I would never hear music the same again.
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