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You tell me
Keep pressing forward
but how can I go on
when I've reached the end?
I have no faith left
I'm standing here
With my own two feet
at the end of the eternal line
and no strength left to take another step
for
from now on
each step will be on hot coals
they will burn.
I like here
where it is safe
by the fire
I can bid my time
until I turn around
and take the easy road
back to despair.
What's on, what's there
What can't be touched.
What we think makes others beware.
Beware who we are on the inside.

Acne is the unfortunate
addition that causes the poor
young soul to lack,
confidence,
self-esteem,
and pride.

Stop.
You are beautiful.
You need to forget.
Acne is on everyone
You have nothing to regret.

So they judge,
so they criticize.
Secretly pointing out the
pink,
scattered,
stand-out surface
on what used to be
a bare and beautiful face.

Stop.
Every face is beautiful,
but never bare.
Stay optimistic in your attitude.
Look them in the eye,
wink,
and smile when they stare.

You're still and will always be you.
Only your heart speaks the truth.
Of how you create and what is part of
who you are.
Whether broken out or not,
you never
stop being
a beautiful, young,
star.
So this is my first poem I am actually posting. Wish me luck!
  May 2014 Forgotten Dreams
mia
i'm tired of being unhappy.
i'm tired of being the ugly and stupid friend.
i'm tired of being the ugly and stupid daughter.
i'm tired of putting everyone first when i get
put last.
i'm tired of feeling worthless.
i'm tired of being
myself.
my demons are screaming
and this time,
i won't fight back.
*i give up.
this is pretty ****** lol, but eh, this is how i feel atm.
  May 2014 Forgotten Dreams
AmberLynne
Your control over me is insane.
Do you realize that the words you say
       jiggle round and round my brain,
pounding, pounding,
tearing at me from within
and I can't even begin to make it cease,
this tortuous game
from which there is no release.
pounding, pounding,
You really have no clue, do you?
how much your words affect me,
make me reflect on everything
and the effect is nonstop
pounding, pounding,
causing me to clomp to the brink while
struggling, trying not to sink deep
into the very emotions you cause
by attempting to stop them. The ironic
pounding, pounding,
of a few words, you have no idea
the consequence they bring
and suddenly I'm running,
bounding, bounding,
leaping willingly off the edge.
  May 2014 Forgotten Dreams
Danna Evans
It is all a play.
We are simply acting out,
Infinite versions.

You cannot be right.
You are simply a version.
You cannot be wrong.

Infinite Versions,
Endless experiences.
Many ways of one.
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