Wow. You ****.
Free of any metaphors or similes, hardly a poetic phrase but made out of extreme hurt and hatred because that is really all I have left to say to you.
If you can apply this to anyone or anything in your life, then repost.

In my opinion, homemade gifts are really the most incredible.

Her window was open
And her eyes were closed
She sat there in the passenger seat,
Music blasting
I could hear her singing
And her voice was haunting
Her green car drove past me
In a blur
But I recognized her face
From what feels like a thousand year ago
But was only a few
Back when she was a little girl
She finally looks happy
She never used to
…
Time passes and one day I’m at a bus stop
Waiting
Just waiting
I sit on the bench as the smell of cigarettes
From the smokers nearby
Engulfs me
And there she is
In the crowd of people
But I recognize her
I catch her eye, and I see her expression flicker ever so slightly
Her eyes narrow in dislike for a split second
But as if it never occurred, she looks away causally
As if she were staring at something just over my shoulder
Another bus pulls up and she boards it,
Flashing a polite smile at the bus driver
She is so much more pleasant to those who don’t know her
But I have given her reason not to like me, of course
One of those regrets you try to drown with an oh well
…
Fraternity party
I’m haven’t even finished my first beer
There she is, in a would-be modest dress, but she made the mistake of accepting a drink from a stranger so the front is unbuttoned more than I know she usually would let be, sober.
The punch was spiked, as usual. I know, because one of my buddies did it.
Too many hands on the giggling mess of the grown up little girl I used to know.
I never really particularly liked her, but something about it bothers me.
She is like a part of my childhood. Nothing important, just a blurred piece of the framework, but still.
I can’t let her be defiled by the man she doesn’t know with clear bad intentions who is leading her by the small of her back out the door, his hand slipping a little too low.
I tap the guy on the shoulder and he scoffs at my request to leave her alone.
She is confused but vaguely recognizes me and earnestly informs me she doesn’t like me because I didn’t used to be very nice to her.
I tell her I know and I’m sorry but she’s got to listen to me.
I manage to convince her not to go home with the man.
I get her to tell me how she got here, she drove herself, alone.
She is far too drunk to remember where she lives and she doesn’t know anyone here.
Reluctantly, I bring her to stay at my house for the night.
She vomits and passes out in my car on the drive there.
I carry her in and mean to drop her on the couch but I find myself pacing up the stairs to my bedroom.
I gently lay her down, and watch her sleep. She doesn’t scowl as much as she used to when I knew her when she is sleeping. I notice she is pretty, then grab a pillow and sleep downstairs on the couch for the night.
…
I wake up and roll over to the sight of her lying on the other side of my bed.
Her eyelids flutter open and I smile at my beautiful 7 year girlfriend.
A used-to-be part of my childhood, and now a part of me.
I whisper her name, and pull out a diamond ring.
…
Hop off the plane when it touches down back from my business trip and dash to the nearest taxi to the hospital
Maybe all those three AM cravings and watching my beloved wife cry because of the hormones will be worth it when I hold my baby girl in my arms
I reach the waiting room, holding the little baby blue (appropriately so) socks I bought for my unborn daughter, and a nurse stops me asking my name.
They take me into a room. Why is no one smiling when the most wonderful baby the world has ever seen is either born, or about to be?
The doctor comes in and as he speak I decode the medical terms and slowly his words fade to a ringing silence. All I catch is: I’m so sorry about your late wife and child.
…
Blue socks on my dresser.
Her picture by my bed.
My half empty bed.
Never to be married again.
Who else could I possibly fall in love with? Besides the girl with her car window open and her eyes closed?
…

Repost if you know anyone with a child or wife or both lost in childbirth.
Comment please! I LOVE to read people's interpretations of my work.

I as much as I hate to admit it,* I honestly love him more than the sun.



Although...

+

+

+

+

+
I absolutely despise the sun with fiery loathing...



So I suppose that leaves him in the **"I really hate you" slot...

What?
Oh no that's alright

I never liked my heart anyway

By all means, please
go ahead and beat the living hell out of that useless thing

all it does is get me into trouble anyways.

Please, go on

Rip it out of me and stomp on it

Pierce it with a poisoned blade

What do you care?

You don't know how that would feel

How could you?

You've always been

And will always be

HEARTLESS

You’re crawling on the tips of fiery flames
You’re dancing with the shadows.
There’s no way back
You’ve gone too far
You’re creeping along
a bloodstained path
and it just isn’t fun anymore
not the same thrill to be the only one
“brave” enough to leap off the ledge
And tumble into a chasm of eternal agony
You got lonely with only the silence to talk to
Truthfully
You used to like this feeling
Like a sense of empowerment
Because no one suspects the secrets you keep
But there comes a time
When you don’t want
To keep these secrets anymore
You don’t want to feel strong enough to face the pain
You just don’t want the pain there anymore
You’re crawling on the tips of fiery flames
You’re dancing with the shadows.
There’s no way back
You’ve gone too far
No.
There’s always a way back.
There is no such thing as too far.
And I’m back.

Please repost if you too have made it back from an abyss of despair :)
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! 

I was dancing
With him
I didn't even know him until I was in his arms
Handsome, though I hardly care
Charming, but because of his soul, not his words
And warm, in a way that wasn't physical
He held me like he knew what he was doing
Like I would be safe with him
Like a promise
In the most beautiful white dress
And I was beautiful
The most beautiful girl there
Everyone wanted to dance with him
But he chose me
And I couldn't believe it
We danced all night
And of course
I messed up the steps
Tripping over myself
Clumsily, as usual
But Lord I was beautiful still
And he just smiled and somehow found it lovely, that I was imperfect
He whispered to me
And we danced and danced
And I was beautiful
**Then I woke up

Restless nights
days dreary and dour
abandoned in
our darkest hour
treacherous actions
yet unloathable soul
desperately living
off burning out coal

And as the clock struck 12
You probably kissed her
With alcohol on your breath
And no trace of me on your mind

Surreal messed up poem. Only my friends will get the references.

Weaponized turtles
Moaning Myrtle!
Platform 9 and three quarters
Oops, wall is out of order.
Now you’re concussed
This makes you crazy enough
To take a flying car (because you’re fool)
To a snake infested hog with dermatology problems school
Adhesive sloths!
Polka dotted moths!
Oh wait, that sounds like butterflies
With this poem, literature dies.

I apologize, I just felt like writing something absurd and I am really REALLY tired and my brain pattern is weird, and I read too much harry potter…
OSTRICH ATTACK!!!
Hey, I told you I was weird.

She met a boy
And she's in love
Her mother disapproves

Her mother says he's trouble
But she adores this boy
He's someone she'll never lose

Forbidden to see him
She meets him in secret
Every single night

He calls her many
pretty things
They keep their affair out of sight

The boy she loves
Has killed a man
Police are on his trail

She has a choice
To hide her love
Or watch him rot In jail

In the dead of the night
She leads him to the house
Through the creeky back door

Gun still in his hand
The pair tiptoe
Across the kitchen floor

Her mother finding out
About this situation
Is among her highest fears

They sneak up
to her bedroom
And she bursts into tears

What have you done?
She cries to him
He shoves her onto the ground

Tells her to shut up
Curses at her
Warns her not to make a sound

There's a pounding on
The door they came in
She follows him down continuing to cry

The stranger he owes
Stalked him here
And tells him to pay or die

Her lover's gun fires
The stranger falls
****** and still as a rock

They turn to see her mother
Who heard voices and came down
Her eyes filled with horror and shock

Without even flinching
Her lover aims his weapon
And says she's seen to much

Her mother's screams
Echo off the walls
She's bleeding and cold to the touch

Sobbing at her dying mother's side
He shoots her too
Saying I'm sorry it had to end this way

Then leaving them both
To die alone
Her "lover" runs away

Father comes down to his ****** family
She whispers Sorry daddy
He calls 911 and they all wait

But by time they arrive
Just like her apology
It simply is too late

Repost...if you like the repost button ;P
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

Dear Silver Tongued Shadow,

I came across your poetry and I can see traces of your soul inside it all.

I don’t know you, you don’t know me.

Neither of us know what the other has been through.

Seems from your style of writing and the way you portray your images
made out of letters that you are strong. Not one to be messed with. Fierce.

You seem to be your own shade of beautiful darkness.

I have selected some of my favorite lines from your poetry.

They are magnificent.

I think you deserve appreciation for your work.

Because our work, is a puzzle piece of who you are.

So I recognize, acknowledge, applaud, appreciate and admire who you are.

Thank you for writing, because regardless how small and insignificant I may be in this big, big world

Your writing has powerfully affected me.

I am inspired by the stories you tell

The feelings you express

The messages you spell out

With the words of your poetry

You are a truly phenomenal writer.


It is the ones who know the pain of reality that make their dreams true....
-Silver Tongued Shadow

A beautiful, tragic and truthful phrase. Sort of like literature’s equivalent of a tearful smile. Lovely writing.

Sitting in a class with unfamiliar faces
Trying not to collapse while my heart races
None of them know of the hit I took last night
It wasn't even worthy of calling a fight
-Silver Tongued Shadow

So achingly relatable. An important hardship so many of us face, and yet we are always alone when we do. To have been hurt and have no one nearby you know, trust, or who could possibly understand or care enough to possibly understand. To be lonely despite not being alone, to have a heart going faster than the speed of light and trying desperately to keep on a brave face, and know inside yourself that no one here knows at all the pain that lives inside of you.

I feel a little lost, but that’s okay
I can make it another day
-Silver Tongued Shadow

I marvel at your emotional strength. It is only the nerve and sinew found within ourselves that is enough to keep us going when we are at our frailest and many of us can never be strong enough to discover it inside ourselves. It is beautiful and heartbreaking to be lost but to have to be okay. For you to muddle through it and accept difficulties is an inspiration to me and all of those who have felt that.

Love to me
Is about seeing the light inside the one who can only see darkness within
-Silver Tongued Shadow

Such an exquisite thought. A fresh perspective on love that has entirely altered mine.

I’ve never been much of a person. So many mistakes I have already made.
And it is quite too obvious, that no one would care if I was to fade.
-Silver Tongued Shadow

I don’t know if you are writing this about someone else, or yourself or if it is current or a feeling from the past that doesn’t hurt you anymore but if it is yourself, just in case, I want you to know that I would care if you faded. You have made a difference in my life with your poetry and view on the aspects of life, love, reality and dreams. Mistakes ARE what make people. Whatever bundle of flaws you might see in yourself, are like jagged pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Together they make a beautiful picture. If it was just a general comment, it was very well written and many people who DO feel that can find comfort in that sense of empathy reading your work particularly this line. Thank you for writing this.




Dear Silver Tongued Shadow

I hope you never change a thing about yourself or your writing.
-Ember

Losing something precious
Real or unreal
Alive, dead or neither
A loved one, an opportunity, someone’s trust, maybe the wedding ring you still wear even after a shattering divorce, no matter how furious you still are
The loss decorates your soul with flames the color or ink and charcoal
It burns away all that was linked to or too near to what you lost
Forgetting something precious
Hated or dearly loved
Broken or shining
A dalliance, an old friendship, or possibly even just an old worn sweater
from your first day of kindergarten
It doesn’t hurt as much as loss because you don’t realize it has happened
But there is this cracked and crumbling sense of longing
When you desperately search in your pile of thoughts for that memory
But it’s gone now
Like the panic that grips you when you drop something tiny and treasured
And it’s gone forever, lurking in the shadows
But it is so much worse to forget than to lose
It might not be an agony that is quite as blaring and ****** as loss
But it is a different kind of excruciating pain that never ever fades
Like a dull ache
Because even if you lose something
and the anguish rakes its blood-caked fingernails down your heart
Every. Single. Day.
One moment long ago, you never wanted to forget it
And now that you have,
It’s too late to recall it.
…
Never forget what you have lost even if it is gone
Because if you do, your heart will never lose the stinging stabbing
of what you forgot.

Here it is Creep :) Thanks so much for the collaboration invite, and accepting my earlier collab. invite! Such a thought provoking concept. Plus it was fun! I'd love to do it again anytime!
-Ember

TO DO LIST:
-Paint nails black and silver
-Finish reading that novel I started
-Finish writing that novel I started
-Offer my bus seat to an elderly lady… unless I’m driving the bus.
-Make tea
-Practice piano
-Clean out closet
TO ****** LIST:
-People who have hurt those I love
-Depression
-Suicide
-Unrequited love
-Rejection
-Inadequacy
-ppl who lyk legit totes talk lyk this lol as if they are lyk, texting or whatevz cuz they think its lyk totes adorbz and stuff *** lyk ***** rofl
-People who respond to my paragraph text with: K. or Lol.
-Slow walkers in front of me
-people who sing Xmas carols in June.
TO DATE LIST:
-That guy I’ve liked since the first day I saw him
-Chocolate
-Chocolate’s cousin: Caramel
-Tea
-CHOCOLATE BROWNIES
-Every fictional character I am in love with... there's alot

I am not writing and doing nothing because I need a break from working, I am doing it because I am upset and I am trying really hard to escape myself.

I'm either always second choice
or not even a choice at all
I'm the girl who fights tears during slow songs
at the dances no one ever asks me to go to with them
while my friends go off and dance
in the arms of guys who asked them to
but I never get asked to dance
so I watch silently
because nobody wants to dance with me
I'm the girl who has never looked in the mirror
and felt beautiful
or even pretty
not even half decent
never even average
not even just plain
never felt ugly either
but every. single. time.
I feel hideous
and worthless
and repulsive
and ashamed of my face
and my body
and then I feel ashamed all over again
of my vanity
and pathetic obsession
with being beautiful
with FEELING beautiful
because roses are roses
and weeds are weeds
born a rose, you're a rose
born a ****, well, you're a ****
like me.
and roses will be beautiful
but weeds won't.
End of story.

Being comfortable enough in your relationship with a girl to tease her (playfully I mean) means you have a better relationship than you would if you were comfortable showering her in compliments.

So help me God, if any guy ever hurts you I will make sure he wakes up wondering where his internal organs went.

You are really lucky my best friends don't know where you live.

I gave you a little part of my heart
Not the whole thing, thank God
But I did give you a tiny piece of it
I know, you didn't throw it at the wall
You didn't hurl it off a cliff
You didn't even beat it to bits with a baseball bat
But you dropped it
Accident or not
That little piece I gave you
You shattered it.
Thank a lot.
I love feeling worthless, it's great.
Just, fabulous.
Thanks.

Thank you for teaching me what it means to find someone not only attractive, but incredible, but know better than to sacrifice who you are to make them like you.
That's pretty much the best thing you taught me.
Other than that, you just **** and really hurt me.
That's about it.
So thanks a lot.

I don't like good dreams because when I wake up I realize how impossible what my mind just made up really is.

I thought it might be fun to do and I enjoy collaborating with others when it comes to poetry. If anyone else enjoys this I would really love to write a poem with you!!

Please comment and message me if you are at all interested!

You don't text me for months and months

Then suddenly you have the nerve to say "Hey how are you?"

Then I don't hear a word from you for a full week, and suddenly my phone buzzes once again with a message from you.

Apparently you miss me.

That doesn't even make sense, I'm not the type people miss.
Why are you doing this to me? Telling me I used to make you nervous when I sat near you, saying you were too scared to even make eye contact with me, and I throw my phone at the couch because you need to stop this. It's not fair. Stop doing this to me.

I know that you are a poet
I know that I don't matter to you
I know that I didn't really matter to you back then either
But back when I was actually on your mind
When I was under the impression that maybe you cared about me
I wonder if you ever wrote a poem for me?
I sure wrote many for you.
That's all I know.
I'd like to burn them with you now.
Along with all the memories and feelings.

I love rainbows and unicorns.

What's it like to be liked?
To be the one who causes that jolt
In the chest of the one who sees them and likes them?
What's it like to be liked by someone who doesn't just like you because they found out you liked them and they wanted a girlfriend?
Because I have liked so, so many boys
Felt that rush if adrenaline when they walk by
Gotten nervous when they speak to me or meet my gaze
But I have never
Ever
Been on the other side of that
Never even been asked to dance more than one time
And it has been nearly two years since then
And he was basically ordered to ask me to dance
I don't dance
But what I'd give to be asked...
What I'd give to be liked...
What's it like to be liked?

Repost if you are lonely. Makes me feel less alone to know someone else Is too. Or if you have never been liked. Or if you just really like the repost button.
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

I sort of know why things are this way
I sort my thoughts about it into little glass jars inside of my mind

Making light of my troubles I smile past them
Making light beams shining through the darkness that is my heart

The race that I belong to of crooked misfits without the appealing
rebellious pride
The race I run everyday wondering how I'll ever chase down Time and pass it at the finish line, but I can't keep up and Time, just like Life, goes too quickly

The club trumps my heart everyday, every moment, and I do loathe being second best, yet again
The club of Inadequacy that beats me ****** and bruised everyday

The fairness of your face can alter your fate and change whether you are adored or disliked
The fairness of reality is horribly off balance and nearly nonexistent

So I must act fine and dress fine and look fine because only the lovely are loved in this world
So I must act fine even though I am not okay because I can't be what I am not and I get to be what I was born as and that is my identity and my identity only gets a single definition, only one single meaning I get to be Me and that means Me, it can't mean Me as well as Lovely.

and I just can't be a double meaning.

Repost if you cannot be a double meaning.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! :)

I don't have a new years resolution this year
But it always ends up becoming the same thing

"Aim to become less ugly, learn how to be pretty"

Still working on that

Maybe I'm shallow
Or maybe
I'm just broken

Maybe I just would like one year to he truly pretty
Because I don't have enough inner beauty to rely on that
And you know what

To everyone who sees me
I'm just and Ugly Girl.

I honestly kind of thought it would hurt more when we parted forever but I miss you in the way someone misses their old house after a move.
If they went back to it, it would look basically the same on the outside but the house wouldn't be at all the same on the inside. The new inhabitants would have changed everything since they'd been gone. Walls that once hung photographs and other captured memories would be eerily bare. The air wouldn't have the same warmth because it's set at a different temperature now, and worst of all the people that were always kept safely inside the house will not be there anymore. I t would be the same house, but not the same house at all. Not the same home, anyway. It's quite the same with you. You look the same but are not inside. Parts of you are missing, precious memories you held and treasured have faded, you've grown cold inside and you don't hold the same people you used to love in your heart anymore. People like me. You are the same girl, but not the same person. I'll miss you, the old you, but I lost the old you a long, long time ago.

You are such a waste of poetry

A souless cavern of regrets in which my pity wallows and crumbles into an endless abyss of despair, a chasm where hope fades into fiery loathing and destruction.

Okay, new rule:
My friends who I love are not allowed to die on me ever.
I don't want to have to find out like the friends and classmates of this student did today.
Don't. Die.
I don't want to be called into class to be told that you died.
Don't you dare die on me
Because I won't survive.

Why do I care so much about my physical appearance?
You think it's because I actually give the slightest **** about what you think of me?
Ha. No offense but I couldn't care less what other people think of me. I mean this in the nicest way possible but if you don't like me, ***** your opinion. You're beautiful and you don't have to think I am.
You think I would act like I was thrown into a ceiling fan as a child the way I do if I cared what people thought of me?
No. By all means, please. Feel free to find me ugly!
Write poetry about it!
Etch it into bathroom stall doors! Put up posters for all I care!
I don't care about BEING beautiful!
I DO care about feeling beautiful though.
Feeling like I'm not hideous.
Because it HURTS to feel that way.
Don't you dare comment about my inability to leave the house without lipstick on unless you have BEEN me for a day and felt this pain of inadequacy.
Please.
I really don't care if I am pretty.
I just want to feel like it.

Repost if this is you...or if you just like, feel like reposting.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my work and really anything else you have to say!

Yeah, I do have an image in my mind of a "perfect man"
few girls don't,
but here's where I differ,
I don't want perfect.

The boy with the nice eyes
I saw you on the first day
And I liked your eyes
Green and glistening
Like tiny ponds of mystery
I wonder what your irises hide.
You smile and laugh
with your many friends
You don't even know my name
But I know yours
What are names anyway?
A title of our own, yet out of our control
And I noticed your new haircut
before half your friends did
I doubt I'll ever work up the nerve
To even talk to you
Or meet your glossy fern green gaze
But I still whisper
Whenever you pass by
The name I know you by
Despite knowing your real birthname
I'll still call you this
And murmur the phrase to my friends
There goes the boy with the nice eyes

Repost if you have been struck by the beauty of someone's eyes before. Unless I'm just weird and the only one who has.
I love to read interpretations and thoughts on my poetry so please comment!

Does anyone else ruin other people's knock knock jokes 'cause it's funny as hell? :P

example: knock knock

it's open

no!!!! knock knock!

Go away I'm sleeping!

stop it! just do it properly! knock knock!!

sigghhh who's there

Lettuce!

Oh! Hi Lettuce! Come on in, I haven't seen you in forever? How's life been? Stuff at the office going well?

NOOO!!! stop wrecking it!!!



Does anyone else get WAY more excited about the bubble wrap in their gift than the actual present regardless how old you get?

Does anyone else try to register under a username that is actually significant or symbolic somehow but every single one is taken and eventually you end up going: *pfftt ***** creativity. I'm just gonna smack my forehead into the keyboard and hope for the best. 78yl4hkjgosreiuh. there. good enough.

I'm fine. I promise. Please don't worry about me.

I feel like a *****.
I say a lot of really unforgivably cruel things
To myself
All day
Everyday
It's been years since I have spent a day
Not muttering insults at myself
But they are all true.
I can't decide if truth or kindness should win when it comes to hurting myself emotionally.

It's so dark
It's so dark
I can't meet my own gaze of my reflection
The pain refuses to fade
It won't stop
It won't stop
I can't turn on the lights I'm too afraid of what I might see
The bleeding won't stop but I can't tell anyone
Panic
Panic
please please just stop
no one can find out
Then I call you
and I don't even say anything
But you see my name on your caller ID
and you hear the catch in my breathing
a stifled sob
I whisper: I can't
You say: I know
I'm here
and we simply remain on the phone
the empty dead air between us
not a word to fill it
but we simply exchange silence
and somehow it's comforting
but what twisted secrets we keep

Repost if you have a twisted secret
Please comment, I love to read interpretations of my poetry!

I see your face everyday in the crowd
I never say hi, of course. We were never really friends.
I consider giving a tight smile, you know
Just to be polite
After all, we did sit in the same classroom for two years
After all, we have known each other's names since kindergarten
But your friends all hated me
I don't know if you did
But I sure never remember you sticking up for me
Anyway
Now I see you everyday
And just like you used to
You pretend I don't exist
And just like you used to, you look perfect, you're pretty and popular
All the boys want your number
And I don't mind
It's just that, well
I still find myself
Jealous
Because I will never ever
Be like you
And that's the only thing I ever wanted
Way back then
When you at least said hi

I wrote you a goodbye letter
I still have it folded and creased and hidden
Inside of my bedroom
The bedroom that has concealed so many of my secrets
Over the years
I know our bond died
Fourteen months ago
But our loyalty never did
And my love for you like a sister
Is undying
I didn't want to say goodbye
I couldn't think of the words
I put it off until the absolute
Last
Possible
Second
The morning of the last day of school
June 26th
Social studies final exam
Still unable to accept I'm saying goodbye to you
Forever
I typed it up at the breakfast table
Rushed words I over thought the night before
Tears refuse to stop flowing
As I write to you words
Of how much you mean to me
How much I miss the old you
How I will never forget our friendship
How the memories are eternal
And nothing
Has ever
Ever
Hurt
So
Bad
As losing
You.
I waited for you
Alone
For ages
For a thousand eternities that past
Within seconds
...
...
...
...
...
...



You weren't there.

I wrote you a goodbye letter
With tearstains and love
Even though I hate you
Because I love you
I wrote you a goodbye letter
That you never read
And I still keep it hidden away
And I feel you forgetting the mememories
The laugher
The blue heart
The loveliness
The strength
The love
Forgetting it all
With every breath
Forgetting me
...
It's okay
I'll be okay
...
It's just that,
Well,
You didn't say goodbye.

And I wrote you a goodbye letter

I find when I am told
To only highlight the important parts
The entire thing ends up highlighted
Because I can’t tell what is vital
I can’t tell apart what I need to understand and what I can’t dwell on
So I end up spending all my time
On what isn’t important
And then time slips by
And when it really matters
I haven’t spent my time on the right stuff
Same as in life
I obsess of details that seem important
Until they are put to the test
And what others had to say about me
Was all I cared about back then
I didn’t feel worthy of life
And I genuinely wanted to die
But now I realize
I shouldn’t have dwelled on that
I shouldn’t have let their judgemental loathing for me
Consume me the way it did
And now I want to live
But I can never get back that time I lost
That time I wasted
On someone else’s ignorant opinion
I can’t take back the things I did
The things I thought
The pain I felt
But it was self-inflicted harm
And not by knives or scissor blades
But by my own highlighting
I hurt myself
Because I placed so much value
On what they thought of me
Highlighting all the wrong things
Because no matter how much they hated me
Regardless what level of derision lived in their thoughts about me
And disgust at my looks
and amused at my pathetic personality (as far as they were concerned)
It was all meaningless
But I let it matter
And that was my fault
No one else’s
I always seem
To highlight the meaningless

Repost if you Highlight the Meaningless
Please comment I love to read your thoughts on anything really :)

Glistening starlight
Piercing the chilling darkness
Eerie and haunting

Repost if you have found "starlight-hope" in a time of darkness
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or any thoughts you have, really! :)

So I have a friend
So beautiful inside out
Beautiful beautiful beautiful
FREAKING beautiful
Her silence is glass and her smile is starlight her words are silver and her soul is a creek
And her heart is woven out of ivory and ebony wire
Her whispers are pine tree thistles
Blowing in the whistling wind
Amazing person
So strong
So perfect
Except ONE itty bity
Little thing....
She won't tell me who she likes
She denies it's anyone.
She tells me no one has snagged her gaze
Her attention
Nor caught even the corner
Of her endless maple eyes
But I can see through denial as the
Letters fall away and change
Denies
D
   enies
   e
     nies
     Lies
Just tell me already! :P

Repost if your beautiful friend won't tell you who has snagged the corner of their eyes either ;)
Please comment!
    
Hard to make this one poetic sorry but it's a commom struggle with friends! So it's now my hobby to annoy it out of her :P

If I were a celebrity...
I would contact all the rest of the female celebrities attending an upcoming red carpet event and try and get everyone including myself to show up without any makeup on at all to display not natural beauty, but a lack of concern for outer beauty to society and the media.

If I were a famous music artist...
I would write songs about imperfections I would write songs to heal people emotionally in the way only music can and get people who enjoy my music to contact me with their stories and meet with them so I can write songs personalized to their story so they can always have a song that they can 100% relate to.

If I were a famous author...
I would write books from the point of view of a girl who is unarguably NOT traditionally physically pretty, not necessarily traditionally ugly, but not particularly pretty (by society's standards and definitions I mean because beauty doesn't have a REAL definition), but my character would be so beautiful inside. I would write about a character who does all the normal things a real person does and not everything in her life would end in happily ever after because in real life, not everything does. She would be a real type of person, she would walk into rooms and forget what she was there for (which I do an embarrassing amount of times in a day) she would occasionally trip down the stairs (and up it too the way I ever so clumsily do) she would hate having uneven hoodie strings, her favorite song would come on all the time on the radio when she pulls into the garage, she would press those little buttons you find on the lids of fast-food drinks and she would always get stuck behind slow-walkers at the mall. I would create a character people can relate to because there are far too many books about perfect beautiful people with perfect lives where things turn out perfectly for them and I’d like to create a role model of a character who is not perfect.

If I were someone who could reach millions of people with my words, I would want to do so much. But I am just me, and my words cannot influence the whole world. I can’t change society, I am so small in our big, big world I don’t have a voice. I hope those who have a voice use it well.

Repost if you wish you had a bigger voice
Comment and tell me what you would do to change the world if you had a bigger voice