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I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.
 May 2014 Samridhi
Kaeru
My Sunshine
 May 2014 Samridhi
Kaeru
You are my sunshine
You brought light to my world
My only sunshine
and made my sails unfurl
You make me happy
and now that I can ride the wind
when skies are gray
I feel my heart grow warm again

You'll never know dear
My precious, precious, sacred one
how much I love you
You radiate just like the sun
Please don't take
And when our too-short lives are done
my sunshine away
You'll know that you were always... loved.
For someone special. You know who you are. Love you.
I should hate you
for making me fall in love.
I should despise you
for breaking my heart.
I should curse your
memories for always being there.

I should feel all of that..
...but I don't...

Instead,
I love you
for teaching me to love again.
I love you
for making me feel again.
I love you
for the wonderful memories you bring.

Yes, I should hate you,
despise you,
curse you,
but instead,
I love you.

-E.T.
I don't care how God-**** smart
these guys are:     I'm bored.
 May 2014 Samridhi
Meggghanq1
So many misinterpreted metaphors
make me cringe
''are you trying to ruin poetry for everyone''
but I hide my damp eyes behind my fringe
because I mustn't argue and my teachers are never wrong
They sing without a meaning or lyric in their song
we are taught to write what they want to hear
not the truth we feel inside our hopes and fears

But i must turn the other cheek
to get my degree I need..when home I ponder, I weep
because it was the school that killed poetry
for many of my peers..
But all is not lost..wipe away those tears
Grab the pen that feels ethical
the paper that doesn't deceive, doesn't lie
and write a poem that you can feel
you'll get out of school alive
(You know who you are who started this haha!)..Don't get me wrong I love teachers in general..I plan on becoming an awesome one someday too :)
I awoke today to a truth,
one that I had been lying for
with potions and lotions.
I am old. I am fast approaching
the age when young, I thought
was ancient. Truth be told I'm not
that old but, the outside of me is
wearing thin, my mind is still proof of
my juvenile molecules.

Youth gave me bruises, when seen were
black and blue, age has bruised me but
with a different hue.
How true that poets refer to youth as green
and salad like, fresh and new, for if we knew
that age brought, not only wisdom, but a
wrinkling of the body and soul, we may take
a detour to a roof and shove off
falling, whilst calling for our younger days
© JLB
My salad days,
When I was green in judgment.
William Shakespeare, "Antony and Cleopatra", Act 1 scene 5
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