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  May 2016 april
Autumn Stott
So you want to be a poet?
You want to make beauty out of **** words,
want to make people feel something,
you want the grandeur and glamour,
the clapping audience after your appearance on stage?
Well, kid, here's the thing,
A poet is not something you can just "be".
It is an illness passed down at birth,
it is the doctor handing you to your mother
and saying
"I'm so sorry, she was born with poetry in her veins".
It is your father begging for forgiveness
the first time he finds you
scribbling metaphors on your bedroom wall- just like him.
It is your first bicycle accident,
and the apologetic look
on your neighbors face when she
sees the ink pouring out of your wounds.
It is drinking too much,
not sleeping enough,
loving too deeply,
yet never loving at all,
It is walking up to every stranger you meet and saying
"here is my heart, would you like to break it?"
So you want to be a poet?
Good luck.
I've been really angry about this writer's curse lately.
april Apr 2016
you were like the green light
that i thought were the only one
that kept pushing me to go;
"go" as in not to leave but
to "go" as in to keep pushing me
to help me be more better
but what if
that is not what i wanted?
what if i just want
to be myself;
and not to upgrade
or even downgrade?
i'm always the red light
i always stop whenever
i try new things,
i always stick with the average
and not more
and not even less;
but i guess,
it won't hurt to try
because for you
for you, i will and
i can

i choose now to be better
because with you,
i feel like i'm becoming more
and more
that isn't bad right?
you make me feel more
and whole
and complete

i just wish i could do the same
to you
// 8:38am
april Apr 2016
i wouldn't mind drowning
just to be able to
reach you
because that's something
i wouldn't mind doing;
to be able to reach the
u n r e a c h a b l e
// let me reach you
april Apr 2016
no matter how many poems i write about a girl who loved a boy,
i always end my day, staring at the infinite skies above with the mere question: "why am i still not good enough for you?"

and then i realized,
maybe all of these poems made by my mind and hand,
were all about
me and you

although there's no exactly
me and you,
it was an endless possibilities of "what ifs" or "maybes"
and the question: "am i good enough for him?"
april Apr 2016
- +
at this instant,
i am ****** about everything
that you did
no matter how big or small,
or if we've left it all behind before

i am angry
i am mad
i am disappointed

but whatever negativity i am feeling for you right now,
i can't,
i can't seem to feel it right
because even though i feel everything at once,
i look at you
and it disappears

love, i can't seem to get mad,
or angry,
or disappointed
at you
because of all this negativity within me,
you're the positive that stays

whenever i feel less,
you make me feel more;
whenever there's someone greater than me,
you always show me that they can be the lesser ones to what i am capable of doing to you;
of loving you wholeheartedly
that no one else can;
you are my "addition" in this world of "subtraction"
you subtract my problems and add blessings to my life

so no matter what negativity i sometimes feel for you,
i can't continue feeling that way
because i always think of the good things that you did for the betterment of myself,
how you made my life better than it already is,
and i am thankful
for you being the greater, the more, the add-on, the positive one in my life
april Apr 2016
i am dying to know if you still have the tiniest bit of feelings for her;
so i can finally live
to tell the tale
of "the girl who loved a boy"
wait no –
**"the girl who loved a boy who loved another"
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