Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  Feb 2015 emm
Anne Sexton
By the first of August
the invisible beetles began
to snore and the grass was
as tough as hemp and was
no color--no more than
the sand was a color and
we had worn our bare feet
bare since the twentieth
of June and there were times
we forgot to wind up your
alarm clock and some nights
we took our gin warm and neat
from old jelly glasses while
the sun blew out of sight
like a red picture hat and
one day I tied my hair back
with a ribbon and you said
that I looked almost like
a puritan lady and what
I remember best is that
the door to your room was
the door to mine.
  Feb 2015 emm
anonymous
We think we're alone,
But we only have to look around,
And we're just like everyone else.

Typical, sad teenagers,
Aware it's generic yet it feels so personal,
Driving our insecurities more and more.

And I don't know which would be worse,
To be so alone,
Or to mean nothing at all.
emm Feb 2015
a lone star
stuck between galaxies,

                                                                                      watches the other stars
                                                                    wishing for a super nova to pass
                                                                     waiting for its chance to impress

as who can be impressed by the shine,
if nobody can see it?

                                                                                            maybe they can see
                                                                                     they just want to ignore
                                                                                             they ignore the last
                                                                                      glimmer of personality

the universe is never ending,
but forever this star is alone,
trying to impress, those who
can’t see, the hopeless
glimmer that wishes to be a shine
but that doesn’t want to be

annoying.
  Dec 2014 emm
Samri
i look at the mirror.
i stare at myself.
how could i be an alien
under my very own skin?

i wear layers and layers
to cover the alien outside
but, each attempt i make
adds to the demon inside.

i cry.
i reason.
i spend hours in the dark.
to fight away the demon that has already made its mark.
just something about what i'm going through.
you are your own demon.
emm Dec 2014
Guns they sit, cold and still,
Until they're fired, then they ****

Knives are fine, whilst they lay
Until they're fired, then they slay

Grenades are shy, in their shell,
Until the pin drop and the life they quell

Ropes are good, they have their use,
Until they are used for a noose

Words are brilliant, truthful, not vain
Until they cause too much pain
Until they make you use the gun, knife, grenade or rope
So be careful what you say
But how can you stop?
  Dec 2014 emm
Rl
He said she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.
She replied, monotone 'You obviously haven't seen enough girls, if its me'
  Dec 2014 emm
Natalie Walker
I want to look in the mirror and get butterflies
I want to become my own lover’s eyes

its so strange that I am the person who knows me best
and we still haven’t fallen in love yet

Looking at myself at arms length I can honestly say
I know your November birthday
and the way the Beatles make you twist and shout
I know your favorite books from cover to cover,
the magical mysteries you couldn’t live without
You hate monkeys, oranges and lies
you love horses, strawberries and quirks
you paint your eyelids a light silver every morning
just to hide the places that have so often hurt
I feel your every tear graze my eternally rosy cheeks
I know that Sunday mornings are the best parts of your weeks
I know what you love and I know what you need,
why won’t you take a chance on loving me?
-Natalie M. Walker
Next page