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Makayla Oct 2019
why
i just wanna know why
why i'm never good enough
for anything, for anyone
why am i always the selfish one
why can't i just want to make myself happy
why do i devote myself to fixing people
that don't care if i'm anywhere close to whole
why do i live my life to other's expectations
i'm feel like i'm living someone else's life
i'm living for someone else
and i just don't feel happy
or whole or loved or appreciated or
hell,
i don't feel ******* real
and i really just don't know why.
Makayla Dec 2017
You used to kiss me like
the sun kissed the moon.
You used to hold me
so lovingly,
so caring,
so adoring.
You let go,
like a child lets go of a kite
on a strong windy day.
You didn't even chase after me,
until I was too far gone.
Like the sun chases the moon.
You made me feel, dumb, stupid, used
without meaning to.
I loved you.
You didn't make me feel loved.
I guess forever doesn't mean forever
and soul mates aren't infinite.
I'm sorry means nothing anymore
and I don't even care.
Like the sun and the moon...
we don't need each other
not
any
more.
Makayla May 2017
I am sorry
that I am going to come off as a *****
but I,
my friend,
Can't stand you like I used to.
You brag
and you scream
and you ignore me
but say hello to me
when no one is around.
Please tell me
what I did wrong
for us to grow apart-
It's almost like you didn't care.
Did you?
Or was I used to boost your ego?
I wasn't like you,
not good at the things you do.
I'm inferior
so to speak.
I complimented you.
I supported you.
That I didn't get in return.
I got ignored in return.
So tell me,
old friend,
Did I boost your ego?
Makayla Apr 2017
My hands
wrapped in yours
My hands
wrapped around your hips
My hands
holding you hostage to my
             love

Your hands
wrapped in mine
avoiding a goodbye
Your hands
holding my heart
Your hands
squeezing at my
metaphorical throat
asphyxiating the bad dreams

My hands
Your hands.
Makayla Apr 2017
I hear the plunking of the rain
as I sit alone
once again
looking through the
big window in English
as it is
pouring the rain.
What even is rain?
Some say God's tears,
others say it's simply science.
Maybe it's the tears of the angels
looking down at the pitiful world.
Maybe it is my feelings poured out
in a way I don't control
helpless and inconsistent
Drip drop, the rain is done,
and I'm still sitting alone,
over and over again.
Makayla Apr 2017
Hello,
you don't know me yet.
I'll bet you wish you wouldn't.
My name is Irrational,
and my hobbies include worrying about the world,
myself,
and everyone else.
My talents include cynicism and anxiety
and lacking variety
living in a not-so-high society.
Living with welts
on my heart
from being alone
for so long
begging for attention,
living with condescension.
Wondering what'll be on my gravestone.
"Loving mother, daughter, sister, wife,"
in the death of a cynic
another critic
comes another poem
about just some boring life.
  Mar 2017 Makayla
Jessie Latham
sometimes the highest hopes
can pull you from the
darkest depths
& I fear
we're at the bottom

I'd like to climb my
tree
& live in it for a
while

& maybe someday
I'll come
down
& maybe so
will you

the grass won't be
so brown
& my eyes won't
be so full of
moon
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