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i have already
blown out the
birthday candles,
closed my eyes on
11:11
and whispered upon
shooting stars.

the dandelions
in my garden
are now gone
and for some
strange reason,
so are all the
four-leaf clovers.
and in the fountain,
you will find
all my change.

and i am
extremely confused
to why we
haven't both
fallen in love.
now not only are the
wishbones
broken,
but so
am
**i.
i think its funny
when those who
get the largest parts
in plays,
only can act on stage.

its amazing
how i am surrounded
by so many actors.
the ones who can put
on a smile,
but are dying on the inside.

and the ones who
seem like the kindest
of those around me,
but end up sending
sending hurtful letters
to those who are dying
on the inside.

and then there are mothers
and fathers,
who seem to be giving
their children
perfect lives,
but when no eyes seem
to be watching,
they give them bruises
and say harsh things.
which causes the children
to send those letters,
which cause other children
to feel like
they are dying inside.

it just makes me wonder
why,
don't these hidden actors
ever audition
for the biggest parts,
when they hide,
the biggest lies.
"from the minute
i knew i loved you,
i was jealous of
the fact that you are
so confident.
and i don't blame you,
because you have
every reason,
to believe in yourself."

and he replied,
"and from the moment
i knew i loved you,
i was so confused
to why you
were completely
and utterly
insecure,
and i do blame you,
because you have
no reason
not to
believe in yourself."
I wrote this poem a couple years ago, and even then, I didn't quite feel anything. Years after it was written, I met a boy who made me understand the writing I initially didn't get in the first place. I finally found beauty in my writing because of the love I found in someone else. Thank you. You mean the world to me.
i think it is beautiful
that poets,
from all over,
are able to gather here
to share what we
have a passion for.
and there are writers,
who would rather
write about the bright side
than the darkness,
and there are others
who are comfortable doing
the opposite.

to create something lovely,
we write by ourselves,
but we are also writing
together.
and i am not sure if
this is as sincere
as i would like for it to be,
but i want to say thank you
for writing with me.
i just want you know
that you are beautiful
and i love you
more than the sun
could ever love the moon.

i know these are just a few
fragile words,
but you deserve to hear them.
i know we go through
times of obscureness
and insecurities,
and times when it feels
like we are
d  
  r
o  
  w
n  
  i
n
   g.
but please,
do not let these words escape from
your beautiful mind:
that you are strong, delightful, and lovely
as could be;
for it hurts me to see
you lose that very thought.

thank you for sharing such beautiful
(both of happiness and of heartache)
memories with me.
i know there will come a time
when we must leave each other
to achieve and meet our dreams,
but please don't forget me,
because i promise
to keep you in my heart
until the end of time.
thank you,
for inspiring me
and sharing such
unforgettable moments with me.
love,
me.
for my beautiful best friend.
Give me this friendship you have offered me
But since you my best friend that lives right down the road
You seem not to care anymore.
So why do I give you that second chance you deserve.
I'm always the forgiving friend that you could have
The one that chooses not to fight
The one that keeps each other on track with our friendship
But since you keep deciding to try and ruin my happiness
I guess we can never have a true friendship.
But if you choose to let me have the happiness I want most.
Then yes I will forgive you
and I will continue to be your friend.
I wrote this about a year ago because one of my friends had almost ruined my happiness and friendship, so I gave him another chance and I told him to read my poem and he took this poem and sealed to his heart because he doesn't want to loose my friendship.
i stare at photographs
until my eyes melt down my cheeks
i sit like this for hours
too overcome to sleep
it's like watching the dead rise up
and walk all over me
except they're so full of life
and it's me who's the zombie
thought i'd exorcised my demons
but they're back again
dancing around me in circles
trying to get back in
mocking me with glimpses of
what might have been
my childhood memories
are just a faded dream
work in progress

— The End —