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 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
Margar
Flower
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
Margar
I'm a little flower.
I am as delicate as the petals of a flower.
Tear me,
And you'll never be able to repair me.

Step on me,
You just lost a breathe of your life.

Rip me from my roots,
I'll die within seconds.

Spit on me,
Thanks for that one more drop of rain.

Make fun of me,
Look who's talking.

Little flower.
Bold heart.

One thing I know,
Is that if you cross the line,
I won't be that little pretty flower you knew.
I don't know. I didn't mean the look who's talking part mean. I just... Couldn't come up with anything else. Oh and who talks about flowers without talking about potatoes! Join the potato league #jointhepotatoleague and become an official potato!
Through tears she screams her story
In love we find her hate
With shivers, she finds her warmth
She's skinny, but only sees weight

She's a fire that craves water
A sunbeam wanting rain
She doesn't like to be hurt
But enjoys all the pain

When quiet, she is her loudest
Alive, but feels so dead
In a crowd, she gets so lonely
Thinking words unsaid

Someone wake her up
She's been asleep too long
When will people notice
That there's clearly something wrong?

Her heart beats more slowly
As they still fail to see
That the more alive she is
The deader she wants to be

She lies her head down tonight
Closing her eyes so sore
Stop the restless nights
And sleep forever more
Attempting to find the difference between my nightmares and reality, only to discover that reality is the nightmare.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
Dayana
there are poems raging through my head
they burn me inside out
but if i were to write them down
they'd burn the paper and the reader
just the same as they burn my soul
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
Dayana
I see the way you look with those brown innocent eyes
The eyes that see the world in it's best light
You see the world in a point of view which i yet have to unravel
The way you look up at the sun, forming crinkles around your face
The way you look up from the ground, to take a short little glimpse
Your eyes, they magnify at the positives and only see the best in everything
The beauty of this world and the true hidden person within can only be seen by someone like you
Remember that girl?
The one who looked at herself with so much hatred?
The one with death gleaming in those pretty brown eyes?
They’re glowing now.
Her laughter is so filled with life, she can hardly even recognize herself.
She’s growing.
She never thought she could feel so much love.
She feels very deeply still, but with so much light.
She could love so effortlessly.
Why wouldn't ya want to love on a girl with so much love in her heart, and life gleaming in those pretty brown eyes?
I remember
Those brown eyes
I had a dilemma for almost an entire day
Is this love?
I lay down on my bed
Just thinking of that girl
These thoughts were a wonderful escape from the present
She ran through my mind
Spun dreams of
Wanting her. & those brown eyes
I started to think..
Details upon details, playing with the fragments of my dreams.
He looks down on me
Not with belittling eyes
They are soft, softer than the pillows on his bed.
They are a deep brown that swallows me, distracts me from everything terrible.
They are addictive, absolutely necessary for me to get through the day.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
aj
sweet bright eyes, what can i say?
i wouldn't lie to you if i told you that your light led me down this way.
sweet amber eyes, why can't i stay?
maybe it's better that my heart is nothing more than your prey.

celestial, copper eyes, with lashes that shadow like a veil,
a stare, a glare, physique that could never compare.
lustrous, luminous eyes with the allure of a panther,
it didn't take long to see your eyes bore the answer.

i shake and shiver.
sweet brown eyes, make my soul quiver.
serrated lashes that stab like knives;
sweet bright eyes,
become my soul's reprise
...
A biography?
You dare speak the word?
Nothing but iconography
Simply absurd
This is nothing
But an eloquent display
Of petty posturing
Not my forte
So speak your incantations
Your brazen bitter biography
Drizzle it in honey
And paint me a picture
**Of who you would like to be
I despise how biographies and social media allow us to paint a perfect picture of ourselves, present a false person to the world. All our flaws and mistakes hidden behind a few simple well chosen words.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
Lindsey
Nothing is wrong
But everything is wrong
There’s no reason for this sadness,
But it’s inescapable
It’s pulling me down, drowning me
Over and over again
Lost in this sea of thoughts
Unable to find the way home
Tired of being here,
But unable to move
So lonely, but so unable to talk
So exhausted,
But always awake
The waves of guilt and shame never sleep
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