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 Feb 2014 lina S
Harry J Baxter
That’s why they call it falling in love
because at best it’s going to hurt
and at its worst
you end up splattered all over the concrete
 Feb 2014 lina S
Abbigail
Mom makes you smile for a picture in front of the bus
on your very first day of school,
"You only have one first day of kindergarten!" she says.
But every time you hear the scratching of leather seats,
You are back to that day
When tears rolled off your tiny pink cheeks,
onto the front of your Lion King tee shirt
The first time you ever had to be afraid that you
would never see her again.

Brother tells you not to worry about the boy that bothered you,
the impact of a fist on his right eye is a warning
that guarantees he'll never disrespect a girl again.
But every time you step in the pebbles on a playground,
You're still struggling to run just slow enough not to slip
yet fast enough to keep from being caught and held captive
by the first boy to ever kiss you without permission.

Grandma tells you to "appreciate today" every day
because you'll never get it back.
But every time you hear the crash of waves against a shoreline,
You're there with her in your favorite place in the world.
And the sun is overhead with looks of never coming down,
But you'd be okay if it did because you swear these colors of
the sunset don't exist when you see it from anywhere else
And you never feel so close to God as you feel right here.

Dad is sad when you're growing up
because you'll only be little once.
But every time you get the surprising scent of metal and grease,
You're five years old again and dad is getting home from work
and he lifts you up in a hug and you bury your face in his shirt and breathe in,
And you're confident that he will carry you to bed later that night
on that same shoulder when you fall asleep on the couch.

You're told over and over to forgive
and your mother keeps trying, too.
But every time a green van passes by,
you're a vulnerable twelve-year-old with a record that says easy prey
and you're back at that police station and you're both still crying
and forgiveness still seems so far away.

Everyone tells you that "first love"
is something you only feel once.
But every time September rolls around,
You're still staring back into the first eyes to look at you in awe,
His palms feel sweaty in yours but you don't mind.
And you can still taste his lips and smell the sweet mint Stride on his breath
and you feel everything.

It’s strange how they promise that you can't turn back time,

yesterday is gone,

today will only happen once.

Because I go back all the time;
And I still feel everything.
 Feb 2014 lina S
Amanda
Big
 Feb 2014 lina S
Amanda
Big
We had big dreams,
you and me.

You & I,
I mean.

Thing is, kid,
all of that lived and died
in
the backward
of
*time.
Hi hi hi there. x

Good morning, Good Afternoon or Good Night where-ever you are!

Much Love,
A'manda
 Feb 2014 lina S
D - Matter
I've noticed
There are a few types of music
Music when you're happy
Music when you're sad
Music that makes you think of someone
And music that doesn't mean anything to you
Until certain things happen In your life
And it just moves you, speaks to you.

Heals you
Pushes you through the rough
Glides you through the smooth
Music that I listen to when I'm only thinking of you.

But I never tried poetry
And now I realize

Poetry can be used

To explain love in great detail
An image in a readers mind
But love can mean many things
To the writer.

So the reader has to relate to it in someway
Dig deep within the lines
It's like finding a diamond in the rubble
But when they do their eyes come alive.

See a poem has to flow
Tell a story in someway
Poems that only make sense to me
Lust
Anger
Passion
And Rage

My mind is thinking of new
Lines every, single, day
See I never wrote poetry before I came here.

I see it as a land of peoples
Story's and Dreams
A land of people who
Get heat-broken and Shattered
And write about the things they've seen
People that write about the dark valleys in their mind
People who write poems about their lovers,
as you read their words come alive.
People who write about their struggles and addiction
A place where everything in their mind is in one place
and most of it is non-fiction.

But poetry for me
Are my Demons scrawled
Across these pages
And my story's to tell
This place is where I drown them
They lay there in that thing
The thing I used to call the Wishing Well.

If they're here, they're not in my mind
Emotion in my lines
But the reader has to Look, Imagine and Relate
But when they do, their minds come alive.

Now I know this
Poem may not be the best
And It's not meant to be
Because this poem might only make sense to me
Just another Demon
I have thousands and this is just one less.
But now I come here everyday
In the hope I can feel something and relate to somebody else in some sort of way
People who I don't know but I can read and read
Pages upon pages and for a moment my mind becomes less tense and I start to believe.

I didn't mention the Angels
Because they're quiet
They only come when I rest
I think a lot
But I know they're always silent
During the Test.
 Feb 2014 lina S
Madison
I contemplated driving to your house and crashing through the window on your front lawn, the one that we gazed through while we were tangled up in your sheets and thinking about how insignificant we were in such a complex world

I dialed your number and deleted the digits over and over and over again when all I wanted was to gently press call and scream profanities at you at the top of my lungs despite the fact I knew you wouldn't have picked up your end of the line
I should’ve just left a voice mail

I wanted to claw through your skin and break your bones and tear your heart out of your rib cage so you would have just a minuscule understanding of how it feels to be without you
I can’t let go, I hate you, I love you, please call me, lets never speak again


It was never my choice to love you
As gravity bounds me
To this thing called earth
I look all around
And see nothing of worth
I know my day is near
it's long overdue
To stand at the gates
And have my own personal breakthrough
To see my family
to hear my sins
I'm glad I'm not in hell
Because there, no one wins
 Feb 2014 lina S
Aarya
Breath
 Feb 2014 lina S
Aarya
What does it mean?
To live
To exist
To feel the solidness
Of this breath

The firmness
The rhythm
The pureness of air
Things you regret

To many people
It is only air
going in
going out

A cycle to keep living
From the nose
Or the mouth

But what most of us
Do not know
It is more than just a breath

It is forever going
Infinite
When we don't realize its there

It is not only a symbol of life
But there's another meaning
Hidden

Within each breath
Lies simplicity
It will never be ridden

Somehow
This was overlooked
And for now
It is just a breath

Air
going in
going out
Even when you rest

Scientific knowledge
That is all people see
As long as we have breath
What more could we need

But tell me
What does it really mean
To live
To exist
To touch
To feel
To smell
To taste
To hear
Tell me
What more is real
Wrote this in middle school.
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