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 Nov 2013 cresun
Ava Cook
Every night she would lie in bed and finger the stars
Pressing her rough cherry lips to the moon.
Sometimes it seemed as though
Everything was attacking her.
The expectations of the world pressed down
With coarse intolerant hands.
But nights,
Nights seemed different.
Her eyes would bathe in the sadness of the moon
And her heart wouldn't be attacked.
Sometimes
If she urged her mind into the sublime
She could feel small.
Just as she had always dreamed.
 Nov 2013 cresun
Zephyr
The more you understand how school works, and not just like "ew, I don't like homework" the more you realize what a scam it is. You work for grades, that doesn't even show if you actually understand the subject. And then you have to learn a TON of stuff you seriously will never use. I understand music, English, biology(for me because of doctor stuff) and math(to a very certain degree) and speech and Spanish.

However, we have to learn stuff about parabolas which you only use if you are an engineer or scientist(maybe) and then we waste hours of our life just sitting in a classroom and studying instead of bring out in the world making a difference, which is what I want to do.

And grades... If someone gets c or a b are they stupid? Maybe they just knew they would never use this Information and didn't try, being smart and living instead of wasting hours if their short life. Parents know that grades aren't good measurements, and yet they put so much emphasis on them! Because they, *** this is so stupid, they DETERMINE our whole future!!!! Why aren't we worrying about the kids in drugs and *** and in gangs??? But no, we have to worry for your future that you got a b on a test.

Please tell me how that makes any sense!
I know this  isn't poetry, I apologize, but this is some thing I feel people should truly understand. I was just writing this in my journal but decided to share. Thanks for reading the whole thing :)
 Nov 2013 cresun
Tim Knight
They lowered him on string,
his face unshaved and the coffin unhinged,
nothing broke his fall but a green cloth dressed in
storage-cupboard-fluff,
the first death of the second month.

Around him they said silent words, empty sentences
stretching the length of derelict paragraphs: morbid monologues
for the man who used words to **** up women
and tell them they were beautiful without them ever seeing it,
understanding it,
knowing if he was legit or not.
from coffeeshoppoems.com >> home of brutally honest poems
 Oct 2013 cresun
BarelyABard
The last time I saw your eyes, I stopped breathing.
But I haven't seen them since I realized you never truly existed.

Only the reflection I created for you beside me did.
I turned my head one day and noticed you weren't there.
So I went searching the world and cried your name

Now I look around me at all the ones that could take your place and I hang my head.
You aren't out there.
You are in me and no one will ever be able to get closer until I find a way to live with you or leave you in the darkness.
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