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This tedium is suffocating
sitting here like a good girl waiting
for your love, a hint or smile
just to tide me over for awhile.
It’s like a drug, they didn’t lie,
when you touch me I get high.
I need a fix as I sit here, still
I would wait an eternity for the thrill.
All alone, my thoughts they burn,
But through my pain I do learn.
I am me, I can’t be fixed,
There is no cure, it doesn’t exist.

All alone, I do survive,
Through my pain creativity thrives.
The words flow out, they are my soul,
Keeping me sane, keeping me whole.

All alone, I do cry,
Writing these words that never lie.
No one can feel it, they can’t possibly understand,
The only one that really knows is the pen in my hand.

All alone, I dream so big,
Hoping for a life I know I’ll never live.
The dreams live on inside my mind.
I think about them all the time.

All alone, my heart still beats,
Through all these nights I do not sleep.
I count my blessings; thankful just to be alive,
Without this mantra I just couldn’t survive.

All alone, I see so clear,
Wishing my hardest that you were here.
I’ve learned to let go of so many things,
But this isolation is really what stings.

All alone, I feel the pain,
It wears on my mind, it stabs at my brain.
I am not bitter, I won’t be like you
I’m not a coward; I know I’ll pull through.

All alone, I know it’s temporary
But I am only human, this time makes me weary.
My spirit is low, it needs to be refilled.
I’ll never give up, I never have, I never will.
It is like you are on another planet
and the planet I live on is slowly losing oxygen
minute by minute I breathe a little heavier.

The only way to survive is to get your attention,
yet there is absolutely no way to reach you,
no matter how loud I scream for “HELP!”.

Pretty soon it will be completely depleted ,
and I will die probably grasping my throat,
while you remain on your perfect faraway planet
breathing just fine and none the wiser.
She wants to know what it's like to be young,
Born into a grown up world
where Peter Pan never existed,
Neverland just an insane creation.
Alice is just a long forgotten dream
and the idea of Wonderland is nonsense.
Her hair isn't grey like the hearts surrounding her,
Yet she's lived twice as much as their combined existence.

The Fairy Godmother never gave her a shot
to lose a glass heel that the prince would never even find.
Her dreams are whiter than the purest snow,
Though she was born with a ruby red apple in her mouth.
She will remain a beauty, sleeping for eternity,
a princess locked away forever in a cold, dank dungeon.
This beast is savagely cruel, a truly heartless entity.
Their is no changing it, no saving it, no saving her.
Take me away.
I can’t stand my reality,
so I will consume yours
like a ravenous beast.

I care more about the people
who live in your world
than those in my own,
I consume and feed; a beast.
We live in a culture where binge watching tv show is considered normal. Many people (including myself) become obsessed with various shows and forget to live in reality. Binge watching is an escape, but sometimes we should face the world.
The screen stares back into my tired eyes
as if snow fallen freshly from the starless sky.
My fingers rest upon random keys
as a sailor stuck on calm, unmoving seas.
The thoughts suspend inside my head
as if I were a corpse, freshly dead.
I am a writer who cannot write
as if I were the moon without a night.
A poem about writers block.
Iced over eyes show a hint of despair,
there is no escaping that soul-wrenching glare.
A heart of gold encased in stone,
she has become numb from all the time spent alone.

Holding on to all the things that are real,
though living in another world has its' appeal.
Recollections engage her every thought,
pushing aside phantoms she's already fought.

A fabricated utopia is hard to leave behind,
such a perfect place is impossible to decline.
Far away from the thoughts of home
and the sights of familiarity,
I still believe that you will be on the other line
if I were to dial your number.

Far away from all the memories
and the sweet smell of your house,
I still believe you are waiting,
ready to hear my tales of triumph.

Far away from all the sleepless nights
and the loving glow of your eyes,
I still believe that you will be there to hold me
when the monsters come back to play.

Far away is the distance between you and I
and for a while this shall remain fact.
Close to heart are all of the lessons
that made me who I am and who I will become.
If only my eyes were just a shade lighter
my skin just a little smoother,
my teeth were slightly whiter,
my hair a bit straighter,
my waist a tad smaller,
my ******* a size larger,
my lashes were longer,
my lips even softer,
If only I was lovelier
I’d say I’d be happier,
that my life would be better,
and the stars would shine brighter,
that everything would be easier.
But I wouldn’t be smarter
clearly not wiser.
I wouldn’t be healthier,
or a better sister or daughter.
My words any sincerer,
though my friends might be faker,
because they couldn’t be greater.
I wouldn’t be less of a worrier,
and my heart couldn’t be truer.
If only I was prettier then that’s all I’d be.
Revolutionary ideas of a world without pain,
all the contemplation has been but in vain.
A storm is coming, a war of the soul,
The fierce blizzard will engulf the sun whole.

The aftermath will bring chaos and rage.
The clouded sky will set the next stage.
Endurance will persist as the tide rolls in.
Out of the darkness a new era will begin.

Pain will not vanish for it is part of who we are.
Strength will ensue, we'll be proud of our scars.
I wrote this poem a few years ago when I was going through some pretty dark times due to health problems. I randomly found it in a drawer and thought I'd share.
These four walls are closing in,
quickly becoming my only friend.
I want so badly to call them foe,
but they’re the only sanctuary that I know.
Outside these walls I am free,
to writhe in such eloquent agony.

These four walls leave something to be desired,
their meticulous blandness has left me quite tired.
Emotional or physical, which pain is worse?
I suffer both in this place to which I am cursed.
Do I have a choice and which would I choose?
Rational thinking has completely lost its use.
It seems I am forced so suffer both blows
amidst these walls where all time slows.

These four walls have crushed me whole,
they seem to demand my once pure soul.
Encased in pain, my heart has fallen hard,
I suffer in silence, playing my cheerful card.
I have foolish notions of what I could be,
if all these searing wounds didn’t plague me.
I don’t want to be sad, don’t mean to sound bleak,
but I’ve rarely felt a time when I wasn’t weak.


Out of these four walls I will move on,
though the memories will never be gone.
I’ll pick up the pieces and continue down this path,
I wish I could say that I knew I wouldn't be back.
Back between these four walls where I’m forced to heal
from the treacherous fate that my DNA has sealed.
My heart aches with an envy so real.
My head can’t rationalize all the things that I feel.
My body yearns to be held so close.
My heart betrays me with the emotions I show.

My eyes are jealous when I see him with her.
My heart pounds with all the feelings that stir.
My ears hear all the tears that I cry.
My mind knows I am upset, but it doesn’t know why.

My heart rules everything that I do.
My skin tingles every time I see you.
My mind and my heart are forever at war.
My life is a battle with no one keeping score.

My soul forever bares the weight of the two.
My heart and my mind can’t decide what to do.
My heart will keep beating confused and surreal.
My mind will keep trying to understand the things it can’t feel.
I never knew that I could feel
desirable, beautiful, and strong
because I've always been told
the way that I look is all wrong.
I am a large woman,
so I must not be appealing,
I have been cruelly brainwashed
into shamefully concealing
my body and even my mind
all because I was assured
that love, I would never find.

Suddenly my world has opened
and slowly my confidence has grown
all because he came into my life
and called me his very own.
I am now certain of my beauty
though it is a tragedy that I could only see
after he entered my life
and declared that he truly wanted me.
I look back in utter disgust
that I didn't see it long before
a man showed me my worth
by gracing my bedroom door.
I can deal with aches,
bear the unbearable pain.
I can accept the worst
and somehow stay completely sane.

I can fight the hardest battle,
take a bayonet or two to the heart.
I can say that it doesn’t matter
when life is tearing me apart.

I can pretend that I’m not jealous
of those who live without a care.
I can hope that things will get better
though I dream with refined despair.

I can live and say that I’m alive,
though I’m not sure if that is fact.
But I can't give up and never know
if my existence has left an impact.
You’ve got fake blood
all over your hands.

Crowns of kings
line your shelves

each from an ever
more distant land.

Monarchs disemboweled
by your spiny swords.

A pen made out
of the finest gold

will mark you a
legend among the lords.
You remind me of someone I used to know.
Such familiar eyes, but yours are emptier.
You remind me of someone from my past.
Such a familiar smile, but yours is faker.

You remind me of a time gone by.
Such familiar memories, but yours seem bleaker.
You remind me of a different path.
Such a familiar story, but yours grew darker.

You remind me of someone I wanted to be.
Such familiar dreams, but yours just shatter.
You remind me of a hope once known.
Such familiar feelings, but yours became duller.
Mirror, Mirror, I know this girl, but I can’t recall her name.
I am a fool,
I know this to be true,
that I should dream
of the morning dew
covering the unkempt grass,
while birds sing wistfully
a song nothing else could surpass.
Yet the night is beautiful,
a darkness I call home,
still I dream of morning
while laying here all alone.
Overfilled stomachs, sick on fried food.
Too many people, all of them smiling
and having a grand time, oblivious.

Children begging for what they don’t need.
Mothers pushing strollers, with a glow
next to their husbands who stand tall.

So much noise, senseless chatter, laughter.
I sit alone at a picnic table, surrounded by strangers
the sun beats down on my pale skin, I nearly faint.
This is something I wrote after having a bad experience (due to my chronic illness) at the New York State Fair last year. I was feeling sick and nearly passing out, and around me everyone else was having fun and being carefree and I wished I could be like them.
Springtime has come once more,
though this year winters grip won’t seem to let go.
Happy flowers begin to bloom again,
though frost threatens to dull their petals.

New life begins to grow as expected,
though death looms close to my heart.
You are the robin that we once watched
in the silent morning on your front porch.
Flesh is not my forte
though zombie was once my guise.

Years spent roaming the barren earth
in search of the ultimate prize.

****** air untouched by darkness
extinct in an apocalyptic land.

Crystal clear lakes of peace
undisturbed by the folly of man.
This is a short little poem I wrote a few years ago.
I honestly can’t tell anymore
Where it ends and I begin.
The monster inside my blood cells
I fear, is beginning to win.
It has never been a fair war,
It’s been cheating from the start.
Attacking me since birth,
From the very first beat of my infant heart.

It knows when to hit the hardest
And where I’ll crack the most.
It knows just how to make me tumble,
It is the parasite to my weakening host.
I have become so ****** tired
Of trying to smile through the pain.
It’s become like standing in the middle of a storm
And pretending not to feel the pelting rain.

I have lost count of all the battles
It has won and I have lost.
All I know is that it’s a lifelong fight
And it will try to defeat me at any cost.
The only way to **** this beast
Would take me down as well.
Bone by bone he falls apart.
Nothing to hold him together,
no nerves, no muscles, no heart.

He lies on the floor in a scattered pile,
dust slowly collecting bit by bit,
and still he wears that haunting smile.

He is not losing, nor can he win.
He is not happy, he cannot feel,
yet still he dons that mocking grin.

Most cry out for his poor lost soul,
knowing that he breathes no more
and never again will he be whole.

Alone I envy that pile of bones.
Never again will he suffer of hurt,
he has found his resting place among the stones.

Maybe my green eyes are being severe,
but my logic seems sound and concise,
and my feelings have never been clearer.

I do not desire to share his state,
I wish to breathe in the cool night air,
this is a stance I cannot overstate.

Though still his teeth and empty eyes
have gotten deep down under my skin
because his prying glare shall tell no lies.
I watch from the outside
because I cannot seem to move
towards smiling faces, laughing.
I stand here with something to prove.

A poetry reading, a crowded pub,
even just a trip to the local store
are mountains that stand before me,
over which I achingly long to soar.

Home has beccome my sanctuary,
imprisoning me in my shell.
Alone I find my inner peace,
alone I find my inner hell.

This duality is laughable,
paradoxically holding me in stasis.
I have the ability to act
but my potential is simply wasted.

At their mere thought of people,
I sweat profusely, my heart pounds
and no matter what I do
I cannot seem to calm myself down.

What am I supposed to do?
How do I change what I feel?
How can I convince myself
that the fears I have are not real?
Big. Large. Curvy. Voluptuous.
No. I am fat, and that is okay.
You use flowery words
to dignify my existence
in an attempt to not hurt my feelings.
You drop these terms like
petals fallen from a cherry tree,
so delicately, so artfully, so daintily
yet they beat upon my heart
like a violent downpour.

By avoiding the word "fat"
you have accomplished the opposite
of your intention.
By avoiding the word "fat"
you are telling me that how
I look is inherently wrong.
By avoiding the word "fat"
you only confirm that I am
something to be massively ashamed of.

I am not ashamed of my body
though I do struggle to love myself
in a society that tells me I am not worthy
by avoiding three little letters,
or using them to insult me,
but I do not take offense.
Big. Large. Curvy. Voluptuous.
No. I am fat, and that is okay.
Heavily inspired by the amazing and thought-provoking poetry of Rachel Wiley.
How can a man of science
also be a holder of faith?
How can this arbitrator of fact
deal with such possible fiction?
What would Darwin say
if he saw this man on bended knee?
Would Hawking judge him
if he could quote scripture from memory?

Would God think him a sinner
if this man taught the theory of evolution?
Would God strike him down
if this man believed in string theory?
How could this man stand before the alter
when his work might contradict the good word?

"Science without Religion is Lame, Religion without Science is Blind"
Once said a simple patent officer from Germany.
Violently shaking straight out of the womb,
But you were right there to sooth my nerves.
Violently shaking on the very first moon,
But you were right there to lull the cresting waves.
Violently shaking for twenty moons,
And you were always there to calm the rising tide.
Violently shaking on the twenty first moon,
And you are no longer here to save me from being washed out to sea.
I wrote this on the eve of my first birthday without my grandpa. He will always be missed.
It's a shame you'll never get to see
all the amazing things you said I could be.
I know you're watching from above,
Though you're gone I still feel your love.
You left a hole that no one could hope to fill,
even with time I know nobody ever will.
When I thought I wasn't good enough
you looked at me and called my bluff.
Because you loved me I am strong,
you believed that I could do no wrong.
You taught me how to stand up tall,
even through the times when I felt so small.
I will not say goodbye, for this isn't the end.
I know that one day I will see you again.
I am drawn to the possibility
of your ****** feathers,
black, blue, white, endless variety;
chances I will never take.

I am awed by the beauty
of you soaring high above the world,
your song echoes in my heart;
A life I will never live.

— The End —