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Kat Apr 2018

Hello hello to people I don't know.
Thanks for supporting the writing that I sow
I know it's sad.
It's kind of a mess.
But who really cares about my mess and distress.
2.
Hello hello to the people who care.
To the people who even bother to read what I have to share.
I'm not sure what to write for a bio.
But, thank you thank you to all the people I don't know.
3.
Welcome to this little community that I have,
It's really small and it's actually kind of sad.
No not the amount of people here,
It's not the amount of followers I have.
It's about the pain in my heart that I have come to share and make at least a few of you glad.
4.
Hello I'm sad
Just kidding I'm glad
You can't see it from your computer or your phone screen
But I'm smiling at laughing from all the poems from this team
There really no team here.
It's only the users of this site.
I just want to say thank you for all the people who decided to journey here to this web site.
5.
I'm sad you're glad.
Well maybe you're sad too.
Maybe it's the weather but this is currently my mood.
I know that my bio isn't changed very often
It's because my mood doesn't really vary and sadness is usually all I have to offer.
This bio is getting long. I don't really have anything important to say. I just want to say thank you to the people who came this way.
Kat Apr 2018
Lost fur flies through the air
Off the backs of black cats
There innocents yowls echoing with sorrow and pain
The traumatized cats have been dumped into the streets

Why? Is there a reason? YES, It’s their fur.
After hundreds of years, people are still scared of the black cats.
For reasons of magic,
For reasons of evil,
For reasons I don't understand because they are normal.

It doesn’t matter the color of their fur
Cats should all be equal because they are good.
Cats shouldn’t be like humans
Who has their segregation?
They make colored people feel bad because of past descriptions.

I don't understand why people just can’t move on?
Why don't they see that all humans are equal?
No life matters more.
People should learn to see and understand that instead of making them fall to their knees and have tears dripping off the floor.

Humans can scream
Humans can yell.
They make signs and protest until the segregation stops.

But imagine how black cats feel.
They experience the same brutality but they can’t
DO ANYTHING
Because they are cats.

They can’t make signs, they can’t protest.
All they can do is endure the pain or avoid it.
They feel the same thing that the colored people feel.
They are hurt and abused by people who don't care about their life
Humans are cruel and should value the lives of black cats.
Black cat equality and equal rights for all.
Fun Fact: Did you know that black cats are tortured on Halloween night because of people and their superstitions.
Kat Apr 6
Cloudy eyes
Broken heart
A sad soul about to fall apart

Telling them how to feel only for them to walk away
Saying no and another message underway
You aren't enough for me
You aren't enough for my no

Nosy and leering eyes
Judging smirks
with loud whispers

thump

ThUmP

THUMP

Banging against your ribs
Calling out only for pain to come
Crumbling pieces blowing away in the wind
Humiliation sinking in

A shaky step towards the street
A stronger one so they meet
Taking off like a plane
Soaring to quieter place

Trembling hands
Blurring sight
Fumbling to get the key right
A hard shove to the sticky door
Brain is sluggish so you fall to the floor

Buried in blankets and memories
only to keep on shivering
The heart feels raw and clawed apart

Piece after piece you build up walls
Only for someone to take a fall
Dragging you down
Destroying the walls

A rejection will always be there but fades to a memory when time helps you become strong

Cloudy eyes
Healing heart
A soul no longer falling apart
Kat Apr 2018
Everyone enjoys a good competition.
If they say otherwise it would be a lie.
They can say that they don't like to compete
But they enjoy watching.
They have races and competitions everywhere.
Everything in life seems to be a competition.

In school it's:
Who has better grades?
Who's better at sports?
Who can do this better?
Who can do that the best?

In families with children it's:
Who's better at this instrument?
Who's doing better in school?
Who's taller?
Who's this?
Who's that?

With me it’s:
Why is she prettier than me?
Why is she better at this than me?
Why does she think she’s garbage when she’s better than me?
Why is she more social?
Why is she better at music?
Why is this?
Why is that?

Humans are a completely social race.
No matter how introverted or socially awkward a person is,
At least once in a while,
They enjoy humans interaction.

Human interaction comes with conversations
Conversations come with stories and experiences.
The people having the conversation, they're competing
They spill story on story
Toping one another.
It doesn't really seem like a competition but it is.

You already know that life is a competition.
Who can become the wealthiest?
Who can become the CEO?
Who has a better house?
Who has nicer clothes?
Who has a prettier face?
These are just a few examples of things that people compete for in life.
Everyone just wants to be the very best.
This was so bad. I'm sorry. The part when it says why is she this or that, the she is a reference to someone irl. She’s on hello poetry and I’m kind of jealous of her.
Kat Apr 2018
I keep staring at you from far away
We know each other but never really have a word to say.
I stare at you from the table next to you.
I think that I want you to say "I love you".

I'll text you occasionally.
I want you to respond.
It hurts my chest when you say I'm bothering you
It hurts to hear you say I'm annoying
It hurts to see you walk away.

Is this a crush?
Is this love?
Or is this just a fascination?

I'm already your friend.
I don't want our friendship to end
just because of this feeling maybe called love.
*cough* me in the 6th grade *cough*
Kat Apr 2018
From what I see everyone fits in somewhere
I stare enviously at the people who others who shower them with so much care.
It’s uncomfortable for me to hang out with my middle school “friends” they all have similar interest and have forged something deep.

While I’m over here trying hard just to fit in.
Like in a YouTube video makes by Spechie,
I’m feeling like a snake because my personality is kind of fake.

Of course, this has changed the way I see things.
I’m no longer naive and see things as perfect and pretty like I did in the 6th grade.
When my eyes were forced open my the things my “friends” talked about I felt like my life was a lie.

The people I hang out with they are a little weird.
I’m not weird enough to fit in with this group
But I’m not normal enough to fit in with everyone else.

They all talk about things that concern each other.
While I’m over here talking about things that concern me.
I feel self-centered and conceded.
That’s not what I want not at all but I don’t know what to say.
If I don’t have something to say quickly the topic will change.

Everyone talks about their own experiences
Everyone talks about what they’ve seen
When I do it though I just get stares because I’m not funny
When I talk about me I think that I am self-fish.
I honestly don’t belong anywhere with these people.
I diffidently hang out with certain people.
Some of them I hang out with.
They are really kind
But I don’t fit in with them
And I always feel alone even when people surround me.
I’d like to add a happy ending but it would be lies.
This is something I’m feeling now, any advice?
Kat May 2018
I'd like to say that I'm a good person.
I'd like to say that I'm always calm and cool
I'd like to say that I always know what I'm doing
I'd like to say that my opinion on life isn't cruel.

I'd like to say that I'm a creative person
I'd like to say that I can sew.
I'd like to say that I'm good at anything I try but
But if I do,
Everything I'd had said would be a lie.

I'd like to say that I'm popular
I'd like to say that I feel like I fit in with my friends.
I'd like to say that I'm not a fool.

I'd like to say that I'm a good person.
I've been pretty inactive lately.
Kat Apr 2018
The u n i v e r s e is like glass,
hard yet easily breakable.
Even it shattered like a broken f r a m e
it will always be there.

But since it's so large and make me think about me,
I wonder about my life and people's v a n i t y.
The more I stare at myself the s e  l f - h a t e
p l a n t s and accumulates.

I stare at the s c a r s and
the charts for my e a t i n g  d i s o r d e r.
I wonder what if I'm
                                 n
                                    o
                         ­              t

                                             g
                                                o
             ­                                      o
                                                      d

      ­                                             e
                                                n
              ­                               o
                                         u
                                      g
                       ­           h
                               ?
I spend my time wondering about
d e a t h
s u i c i d e
e x i s t e n t i a l i s m.
              I wonder about the people around me, Am I truly
                                          a l o n e ?

The things in the u n i v e r s e all have each other.
They have many s t a r s, many m o o n s and many many p l a n e t s.
They all have each other like a simple ecosystem.
If 1 were to disappear a lot of stuff could happen.

I look at myself and all around the city.
The earth, my home,
it's covered in             or if you prefer
                       t r a s h                         l i t t e r.
This trash has caused at problem at my home.
It's caused a bunch of problems.
Like pollution and rising heat.

The humans are a huge problem too.
Because of what they're doing
The trees and grass are disappearing.
Fossil fuels power almost everything.
It's used to make electricity.

Electricity powering cars and technology.
The world slowly being run by computers.
Is this really the earth's future?
This was a word association poem I did for my English class.
It flows but the topics change.
All the words that I used are like t h i s
Kat Apr 2018
I’m sitting here in my living room.
The rundown building with pictures from when the house held no gloom.
That was years and years and years ago when the house wasn't sad
and I wasn't here living alone.

Standing up walking to picking a picture
My thumb runs across the glass of the frame
The people in the picture smiling and laughing in a house with a large window in the background.

Outside it was raining the gray clouds covering the blue sky.
I remember that day.
That day we laughed.
That day when we went to a friends house to hang out.
It was different then
When we were irresponsible and new to life.
Lates teens 17 or 18.

Constantly being at someone else’s house, talking about plans for a future we didn't know wouldn't exist
We didn’t know the horrors back then.
It was different it was shiny but now it’s used.

No wonder people changed their ways and I’m left behind.
I didn’t change the ways I worked.
I didn’t do what they did with their lives.
They wasted it away.
Now they're just corpses rotting in graves all because they were stupid enough to smoke, vape, and other terrible things they shouldn't have done.

But enough about the present
for that is not why you came.
You came to read about the nostalgia the pictures.
The pictures in the frames.
The ones that clutter that old living room.
The ones that are dusty and from so long ago.
Those pictures hold so much nostalgia it's hard to let go and live in the present.

For that is not where I seem to be.
Although I may be alive in the present my spirit will always be
in the past were the good memories are.
And that's where I'll stay until I rot away.
But when I do,
I will do one thing.
I will continue to stare at the pictures and experience the nostalgia they bring.
Don't do drugs, smoke, vape or any of that garbage because one day, it will majorly ***** you over.
Kat Oct 2018
A moment frozen in time.
An expression frozen forever.
A memory lasting longer than yourself.
An image worth a thousand words.
An image bringing a hundred expressions.
Photograph
Kat Apr 2018
I have a puppeteer,
It tugs on my strings.
It has a name, but I hate to say it.
It controls me in the background,
making my every move whispering bad things and lies into my ear
I hate my puppeteer,
It uses me for entertainment.
People just see me,
The Puppet
Not the thing controlling me.
The thing is though
I'm not the only one it controls millions of people in the USA alone are also controlled by my puppeteer.
We all hate it
We all want to break free
And some of us do
My puppeteer has a name.
Depression.
I'm not depressed I swear
Kat Apr 2018
School,
why do you cause so much stress?
You make my mind a living mess.

If you were to be gone forever I don't think you would be very missed.
Almost all kids don't like you,
They think you're a pain.
They think that they think you are annoying and should be slayed.

It's hard to be good math, science, history and such.
It's hard to remember a bunch of dates for things we don't care about.
Why should we have to sit here and listen to the teacher talk about things we don't care about.

Although schools important and I'm not encouraging you to skip.
I don't want to have to be silent and sit.
Aren't we supposed to have our opinions?
Then why don't you let us share them instead of giving us your opinions.

There are a few kids who really like school.
They think that it's important but I'm not sure quiet
if they think that it's fun or cool.

School is where bullying happens.
School is were pain is caused
So many kids have committed suicide because of all the stress it has brought.
I don't understand why you have to be so cruel it's hard to be good at academics in school
I wrote this for all my friends who spam my email with their complaints about school
Kat Apr 2018
I know you've already heard this.
I know that you already have.
This is a simply a PSA when I say that smoking is bad.
Maybe it's stress
Maybe it's a dare.
It was a stupid decision to even light the cigarette
But one day you'll realize that because of your decision,
you will stop your air
They'll **** your lungs
The lungs will rot away.
Your lungs will have to undergo surgery if you're lucky I say
I'm not making this up
I've experienced it first hand
I almost lost someone close to me because of smoking and their still slight of a hand
You think that's a metaphor that they are still recovering
But no,
it's not
It's a literal
They actually can't use their left hand.
It's been almost paralyzed because of smoking.
You may not know this about cigarette companies
They target the lower class citizens and genetically modify the nicotine to make it more addicting.
No matter what the labels say
No matter what the companies promise to do
They honestly don't care about your health and if there one thing they want.
It's your money.
So if you decide to even try smoking
you automatically lose with a small chance of hope.
Everything I've written is true.
Also, do you have any feedback?
This is for an English project.
Kat Aug 2018
What if there's a door that's always sitting there.
The surface is bare.
And it carries a mysterious air.
No matter what people do to the door that just sits there.
The next morning the door is always repaired.

Something so curious like the door.
Everyone finds it a bore.
After all it's just a boring old door.
After seeing the damage disappear you would think people would write lore.
But the door isn't interesting, the door is a bore.

The door's been places.
The door has guarded libraries full of bookcases.
The door has seen everything from schools to fireplaces.

Whenever the place, the door has been goes away,
the door is always there insistent to stay.
But eventually the door gets found and gets transported away.

The door doesn't change.
The door is always a door but no one thinks it's strange.
But the door moves from place to place.
No one knows where or which door frame the door will choose as a base.
I showed my English teacher and he liked it
Kat Aug 2018
From the blood on your wrist.
You draw a door in the mist.
In the small town far from New York.
Where there are trees and trees and trees some more.
In the small town far from New York.

It only works if they let you in.
The ones who have finished their stories choose to open the door with a twisted grin.
They always have a purpose to let you win.
But you never win, you can tell in their twisted grins.

At least 2 must be there.
One to go there and one to go nowhere.
The one to go in must be ready for nightmares.
The one to go nowhere must but be ready for pain they can't bare.

There are bridges in the form of certain people instead.
But don't think you're a tourist and think you can leave when you want to go home and it's time for bed.
You can visit a bar and ask for information ahead
But if you can't find a bridge, you're stuck, mess with the stories and you're dead.

But this is where you get stuck.
Unless you have intense good luck.

Althea lives all the way.
She's old and crazy but the spinner won't let her die anyways.
Travel like Alice it'll only be a day.
A day in the halfway
is 2 days in the real world okay?

Don't go seeking fairyland
Because you will age immensely in that magical dark woodland.
Don't go seeking fairyland
Because you won't be able to leave until the spinner says you can.
Anyone else read the Hazelwood? Just me? Okay I'll leave
Kat Apr 2018
In the dictionary, poetry is a                          work in which special
                                                  l i t e r a r y
intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.

Bland and boring that's what that definition is.
It has not any feelings
It has not any life
It's boring and bland like the words of a textbook.
That's what the definition is.
It's b
         o                                   .
             r                             e
                i                       m
                  n                 a
                      g   and l

To me, poetry is MORE!
It's when I write my heart a       w       a       y.
It's when I write about things I like or care about.

For me, poetry is a way to vent
be fuming and mad
but still be calm and cool
writing about an event that happened today possibly at school.
To writing about what/who I think should go                                away.
To write about the people I care about.

The poems I read all have affected ME in some way.
Making me currently happy, sad or anything like that.
Sometimes the words in a poem have so much meaning.
It's hard to disagree with the poet when you hear them basically SCREAMING at you with their strong opinions.
That's what makes a poem great and c l a s s y.

It's not the words in a poem that make it lasting
It's the effect it has on your
                                                l
          ­                                         i
                                                      f
       ­                                                  e
                                                             once it ends.
Something I threw together in 10 minutes.
It was based off of the last 2 lines.
Kat Apr 2018
Steps for Life:
1. Wake up and brush your teeth twice and use mouthwash.
    Make sure your teeth are pearly white.
    Floss so your teeth don't rot with grim.
2. Drop in some eyedrops,
    so no one can see that you cried.
3. Choose your clothes.
    Don't choose something that isn't name brand.
    Don't choose something that's **** or unflattering.
    Wear your waist trainer so that your waist can be thin and your
    stomach is flat.
4. Get your makeup together.
    Wear the right color eyeshadow, make sure your lashes long enough,
    make sure you choose the right color to match your outfit.
5. Pick the right shoes.
    Choose the heels that are in season.
    It doesn't matter if they aren't comfortable you have to wear them to
    be cool.
6. Go to school
    Go to school and suffer.
    Hang out with the popular kids.
    Be rude to other girls and criticize them for not having the money to
    afford clothes like yours.
7. Come home.
    Lift a few weights to keep your arms thin.
    Swallow a nasty concoction and have dinner so you can rid of it.
8. Repeat for the rest of your life because you won't ever be good enough.

To a girl, why is life about the size of your thighs?
The thinness of your waist.
The color of your eyes,
The color of your skin.
The flatness of your stomach
The shape of your jaw.
The length of your legs.
The way you walk and whether or not you fall.

They hid the pain.
Because pain is beauty.
And beauty was all that matters.
The biggest goal is to be popular but to be popular you have to be liked.
No one likes an unattractive girl.
No one likes a girl who isn't pretty.

To be popular, to awesome to other people, to be cool,
You have to make yourself suffer from the pain that is beauty.
You can't eat anything you want if you do you'll gain weight and you'll be fat.
You can't eat all 3 meals because you'll get fat. Instead, you have to eat a bit for some energy but then force it all back up because too much food will ruin your flat stomach and no one likes a girl who's fat.

You can't eat certain foods because it's messy and people see your face being a mess than say goodbye to your popularity because no one likes a messy girl.
You can't join certain clubs and you can't get straight A's. This is because no one likes a brainiac girl or all the other fantastic words.
You can't wear sweatpants if you aren't required too. Sweatpants aren't flattering and if no one likes you then neither should you.

You will suffer in silence
Because everyone thinks that you're fine.
You have to follow a strict diet or else your popularity will die.
No will see the cuts on your thighs because that's the only place they won't show.
You can cut your shoulders, your wrist or stomach but people will see and think of you as a depressed emo and no one wants to be seen with that freak.

Society has girls be trapped in a box where they follow the same horrible routine.
Inspirational people say that the box is paper and you can just break it to be free.
If the box is paper why am I so weak?
Why can't I break it?
Those inspirational people are wrong.
The box isn't paper.
It's stone.
*DISCLAIMER* This poem could be triggering
Kat Mar 2018
Someone once told me that I fat.
They said it behind my back.
I heard it from a person I'd never spoken too.

They told that I should trust them and that I would be fine.
I listened the followed their words blind.
I trusted their words more than mine.

I listened and did everything they told me to do.
I was afraid that without them I would lose evething too.
I gave them my heart and leaned on them for support but it turns out, to them, that I was just a sport.

Just something new for them to try out.
Only to think that it wouldn't work out.
Tossed aside like yesterday's cold, old dinner, they lefted me in the dust to go and find someone shinier and prettier.

Pathetic I was, watching them from a far.
Wondering what I did to make them want to go so far.
I wanted to make them come back to me.
I was reliant on the lies they fed me.

I fell deep into a pit of dispair.
I wondered why no one would notice me even though I am there.
I wondered terrible things.
I wanted to be friends again.
I wanted nothing more than to be with that person again.

So one day, I mustered it up.
All the courage that I kept inside of me,
so I wouldn't mess it up.

I walked to the person right after class.
Hoping that they would see me and not just pass.
Fifteen feet away, I stood from them.
Watching intently as they spoke to someone that seemed very close to them.

Walking closer and closer till I was five feet away.
I heard one sentance and the remains for my already broken heart, flew away.

I ran away from them, farther and farther.
Wondering why I was so stupid and when would I get smarter.
I kept running away tell I fell to the ground.
Trying to get up without making a sound.

I felt something warm on my cheeks,
I look up hoping to see someone comforting me.
Instead of seeing someone there, I realized that they were just my tears of dispear.

Choking down sobs,
I held in my sniffles.
I thought about my problems and how I got myself in such a pickle.
Like in true anime style,
just to set the mood,
It started to rain on a patheic person called me.
Someone sad and a fool.
Someone who can't think clearly.

Slamming my fist to the ground, I let my sobs come freely.
I wondered why no one would love me dearly.
There was a loud clash of thunder,
I looked up fearfully.
I saw mother and father the only 2 people who had ever loved me I thought clearly.

I thought they'd smack me for being ***** and on the ground.
But my mother held out her hand to lift me from the ground.
Father handed me an umbrella and we all walked away.
Wanting to forget what had happened today.

Sitting in my room I thought to myself,
I need friends but I don't need to ones that will cause me to want to hurt myself.
I find it hard to draw myself away from them.
But it's fine, I have found people who are better than them.
These new people, they make me happy.
The share their stories and make all of us feel giggly and laughy.

In the end,
I guess you could say,
I finally found a group of people who would care about me and weren't fake.

— The End —