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 Nov 2017 Nina Messina
Lior Gavra
Is it perfect, did I get it right?
Missing pieces, relatable feels.
Sweaty palms, panic, fright.
Heart jumps back, chest reels.

Incomplete, forever it will be,
blinded by the daunting fear.
No one’s work, is mastery,
others judge it, don’t you see?

Self improvement guide’s,
our next steps towards,
the best self versions,
as we move forward.

Waiting for approval,
justified by the few,
who never truly,
understand you.

They say less is more,
but there is more in less,
so how do you choose your words?
To not be left with regret!

My words are for the amateurs,
critics step aside,
together our words will flourish,
together we realize.

Get it out the door, they
say you only live once.
Continue writing more,
go on inspire on!
like every great collaboration
We clash in all the right ways
While still seemingly caressing the parts of our minds of which depths are exhausting for any other to reach

Unknowingly-
A force
Unknowingly-
Fused
Abided by the simplicity in the complex-
We shatter realms-
Surpass boundaries-
Outstretch galaxies  

(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro
In seventh grade I watched my friend bleed out
Holding what was left of his leg, he whispered, "This isn't good."
They say that the human body contains eight pints of blood
I counted nine.

When you were born, no one knew.
No one knew how intense the galaxy inside of you was.
How each star would illuminate your eyes,
and how you would illuminate mine.

In tenth grade,
my dad didn't talk to me for three months.
I didn't know who I was for three months.
My light became darkness as his love became emptiness.
Father, love me the way I love you. I pretend not to,
please be the same way as me.

Your heart grew faster than my hands, brother.
I hope someone loves you more than I.
For I am what you are, everything without and within,
forever and without the night.

Mother,
do you feel what I feel? Do you see what I see?
Am I what you imagined, more or less?
Do my words matter? Does my heartbeat pound alone?
Do you love me?

You are what illuminates my eyes, Queen Anne's Lace.
With or without, from your eyes to mine,
silence with noise, electricity moves throughout
yet I am calm. You are what I know,
and all that should be known is that
you deserve to be happy.

In twelfth grade my father tried to stab me.
If he was successful, it wouldn't have been the first time
one of his actions got past the surface level.

It's not your fault, burning rainbow on the water.
Adaptation without reclamation I find you in my translation
as hurt yet elation. Mother.

My kaleidoscope,
so soon,
mirroring colors and shape.
Am I looking at myself?

I don't care if you don't comprehend, the words I say or how I end.
And if you don't understand the words that pass,
your eyes, like your heart, are transparent glass.
Taste throughout, with blood mixed in, the way I beat has always been
to know, to show, to allow what I see now to be seen,
may I know what I let go is what I'll always mean.
Thunderbolts from your mouth, good luck to me because I am shocked.
There is no lock. There is no lock. There is no lock.

I live throughout different years, with evolving eyes without resolving fears.
I've been afraid. I've been lost.
Kaleidoscope.
No longer, no more.  
My heart is an open door.

Blood stained pants.
Hands without.
With every word,
every shout.
I am lava
as it hits the sea,
hardened,
with my molten heart
a memory.
Daniel Magner 2014
she said,
you're like the dark
you are mysterious
I call out for you
and something else
answers me back

there are no friends
no lovers
just opportunists
under covers

There is emptiness
in content
Folly woven deep
within success
It isn't the darkness
that scares us
Its the light, or lack thereof
at the end.

she left me
like a continental divide
little did I know we were
sleeping on a fault line
I called out for her
but she's too far to
hear me now

there's no coincidence
no second chances
just opportunities
and circumstance

There is emptiness
in content
Folly woven deep
within success
It isn't the darkness
that scares us
Its the light, or lack thereof
at the end.
This is very cute and short when played. :)
My lunchtime consists of either not eating or stuffing my face till the words "fat ***" crawl out of my friends mouth. The words sting me like a bee or a metaphor that's been overused like...being stung by a bee. Let's think about this for a minute though, think about whether or not I should feel guilty for my pleasures. I started starving myself sophomore year, the words breakfast lunch and dinner made me want to puke out the hatred I have for a body whose done nothing to me. At one point I tried to love myself, tried to show that food isn't the enemy it's just the voices in my head that tell me it is. "You should lose weight." "You're out of shape" "Fat ***", these count for each stretch mark I have on my body that crept up slowly and silently on me like a murderer to his victim. One was from my dad, two was from my friends, three was from my mom cause she said I was so handsome, four cause I don't deserve to eat, five cause I want to be pretty. Six because guys like me don't get to be pretty.
   It doesn't end easily or quickly. I've gone from overweight to underweight to a healthy weight to a weight where I pull back the flabs of skin so I can count my ribs one by one again. I've even gotten to the point where if somebody tells me I look good all I can think is that they're lying. I see a difference between fat and fat, the words itself form the gelatinous image you imagine when thinking of them, sounding sour as it comes off my tongue. You don't have to be a girl to have an eating disorder, a ****** up concept that society hasn't quite grasped yet.
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