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maxime Apr 2017
I'm sorry baby but you can do that for you so I don't have anything for me anymore and you have no worries I love it tho lol okay I'll text your mom if she wants you too but she is still a little too bad she said okay good night but she is so happy I got to see her tomorrow morning so she could have a great time she said thank goodness for you so I don't have anything else for me anymore lol okay so sorry to say I don't want to do that but I'm sorry for you so much but you have a great day and you will see it all together again.
maxime Nov 2016
How dare you push aside your most precious possession?
Do you not understand its value?
Its rarity? Its unique and original gifts to you?

It's perfectly clear that you don't understant.
What you hold in your hands is a treasure,
A treasure that is not commonly found,
And once lost, a it's impossible to find again.

Yet you treat this treasure like an afterthought to fools gold.
You treat this treasure as a stepping stone to something better,
When I think you know that there truly isn't anything more valuable than what you already have.


Take time, heed these words.
Youve come close to losing this precious possession once before,
And there is no way you'll regain it should you come close once more.
So tread carefully.

Best not lose the best blessing that you have ever received.
Some people don't know how lucky they are.
maxime Nov 2016
my fingertips are numb
filled with feathers that ferry no feeling
i press, i ****, i reach out for more
i know my fingers are there
they're simply just numb

my ear drums are throbbing
silence smothers them in a suffocating stillness
i strain, i scream, i yearn for a sound
i know my ears are viable
they're simply just unsound
I've been feeling scared to publish poems likely. I'm not really sure why.
maxime Dec 2016
Music is white noise
Destroying my eardrums
Muffling the screeches around me
Drowning out my own sobs
The louder the music,
the number I feel
Yet the pounding bass
Is the only thing I can sense
maxime Dec 2016
I watch the pendulum swing on my Grandmother’s old clock.
It’s three hours and twenty minutes off, and she can never fix it.
She keeps it anyways.

When I was little I used to sit in front of it
And sing along when each hour hit
Three hours and twenty minutes off.

The old clock used to wake me up at night
And I’d climb down off the top bunk
To check that it was three hours and twenty minutes off.

Now the clock is shoved in a corner,
Old and forgotten,
But still three hours and twenty minutes off.

My Grandmother’s new husband fixed the old clock.
He did what my Grandmother could never do.
The old clock is no longer three hours and twenty minutes off.
It will never be again.
maxime Oct 2016
i would rather die than have to face the life i am living right now
maxime Mar 2017
I've never felt so stupid as when I forced my hand into the fire and was surprised when I got burned.
maxime Oct 2016
i am so full of fear and self loathing that i can't even see clearly enough to find an escape
maxime Oct 2016
i'm just counting down the days until my body stops breathing
maxime Nov 2016
i listen to the same album on repeat, hoping it will make me feel like i used to
maxime Nov 2016
i miss drinking your poison, though i know it kills me
maxime Dec 2016
i want to tell you how much I love you, but i choke on my affections every time
maxime Mar 2017
i can't tell you the number of times i've wanted to take back what i've said before the words had even left my mouth
maxime Mar 2017
i hate my heart for betraying me whenever i see a rare smile on your face
maxime Mar 2017
I can only hope that you can understand the message in my eyes.
maxime Dec 2016
i will scream until i have no voice, even if i have no chance of anyone listening
maxime Apr 2017
reading through the lines
desperately trying to find a meaning
a message
a long lost letter
a blip in the dead of night
you're looking where there is none
while the answer stares you dead in the face
yet your blindness is unconscious and overwhelming
your ignorance is involuntary and compulsory
open your eyes, little one
the outside world is more obvious than you think.
maxime Oct 2016
Unsatisfied
Left empty, void, hollow.
It's unsettling.
It's nerve wracking, unable to follow.

No matter what you try to make it fit
Nothing is perfect, nothing is right
Nothing is working and it's all simply ****
It's ****, it's ****, it's ****.

I struggle and I fight.
I scream and cry and groan and whine.
People tell it's not a problem;
That it's really absolutely fine.

Both you and I know that it;s not
and it never will be
because it's not going to be perfect
And I don't think it ever will be.
maxime Jan 2017
I watched her play with a knife last night.
It twirled beneath her fingers,
letting the moonlight glint off of the metal devilishly.
It seemed tempting.
Something so elegant couldn't possibly cause such desperate violence.
Something so refined couldn't possibly cause such dreadful wreckage.

I watched her play with a knife last night.
It tapped upon her desk,
creating invisible scars that cut deeper into the wood each week.
It seemed ridiculous.
She could simply put down the knife and she wouldn't be in pain.
She could simply put down the knife and her scars could heal.

I picked up the knife last night.
It darted between my fingers,
daringly darting and narrowly missing the edges of my skin.
If I slipped, I could be just as scarred as she is.
If I slipped, I could finally feel something other than fear.

Oops.
maxime Oct 2016
press restart
simple enough
a new beginning
a brand new experience
but really, it's not all that different

press restart
for the nth time
again and again
another attempt
how many will there be?

press restart
and wonder now
how long it will be
until restart is pressed again
and it doesn't work

press restart
everything i write is **** so i've decided to just give up and publish whatever the hell i want. better than doing something else that's stupid
maxime Mar 2017
Children play with puppets,
little rag dolls with yarn hair and felt dresses.
Their voice morph to characters,
yet their giggles remain the same.

Children play with puppets,
living the life they've always dreamed of.
Through cardboard sets and imagination,
the puppets explore the world.

Children play with puppets,
and earn a false sense of freedom.
Their words and actions are not their own,
though little to their knowledge.

Children play with puppets,
until those puppets wear thin.
They're left in dust, have lost the trust,
of their controlling child puppeteer.
maxime Nov 2016
puzzle pieces fit together perfectly
or so they should
sometimes the pieces are laid out perfectly
each delicately handled with care and slid together easily
sometimes the pieces are scattered haphazardly
thrown aside and yanked back and forced to fit together
each method creates a picture
beautiful and original, yet grotesque and obsolete
if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, who is to say which is which?
sometimes the puzzles that are aligned perfectly are disappointing
they are drab, dull, ordinary
and sometimes the puzzles that are forced together are enticing
they are alluring, captivating, enchanting
so next time chose to force a two pieces together
surely you'll find something new that's better than before
maxime Jan 2017
How long are you going to let your happiness be decided by her actions?
maxime Feb 2017
Do you really think you've won if I am the one who came out stronger, and you're still pained and miserable?
maxime Feb 2017
How can I be so aware of my own insanity and yet have no power to control it?
maxime Mar 2017
Remember when you told me you had never seen snow?
Somewhere so far away, so unknown to my own Northern tendencies
Obviously wouldn't know frigid temperatures like this.
While you dreamed of drowning yourself in rushing waves,
I fantasized about being buried under the blanket of a blizzard.

But, darling, I wanted you to know the beauty of snow,
For nothing else can glimmer so beautifully while it suffocates you.
So I wrote you a story about you and I in the snow.
I can't remember where I placed it so long ago.
It must have been taken when you were ripped from my arms.
maxime Oct 2016
fidget change move
i'm honestly interested, i swear
change move fidget
i'm not trying to interrupt, i'm sorry
move fidget change
i don't understand, i'm trying
fidget move change
i can't sit still, i'm restless
change fidget move
i want to learn, i'm doing my best
move change fidget*
i need to do something, i'm going crazy
maxime Jan 2017
Sometimes I wonder if you still think of me
I’d like to think I was important enough for you to remember
But a part of me knows that I was just temporary entertainment
A part of me knows that I was but a pest
You let live a while longer than the rest
So you have moved on with your life,
You’ve probably found a new toy to entertain you by now,
And I am sitting in your dust,
Wondering if you’ll ever come back for me.
maxime Dec 2016
I rise from ashes.
I am not washed away by rain,
or carried away in gusts of wind.
I am renewed. I reform. I rise.
And by God, you should be terrified.

Every time I rise again I am stronger.
Behead me and I'll be born with double the power.
Your fear of me only fuels my fire.
And each time the ability to end you becomes stronger.
Each time I rise, I know more, can be more.
maxime Sep 2016
please take me to a safe place
where everything is bright and shining
where it's never raining and dreary
where the water is pure and food is a delicacy
i want a safe place
where i'm never afraid of being myself
where i don't feel guilty for being happy
where i won't be forced to be unhappy
take me to a safe place
where my family isn't falling apart
where no one is a disappointed in me
where i'm not afraid of my best friend
just take me to a safe place
please.
maxime Jan 2017
Sand slips through the cracks in my hands
As a struggle to keep it close.
It always finds a way to go,
No matter how tight I hold.
My grip must be weak,
Or maybe it’s betraying me.
Because a better part of me knows
The sand will always slip away.
maxime Sep 2016
dependent, dependent, dependent.
i hate to be dependent.
it's something that shows weakness.
it shows i can't defeat this.

sorry, sorry, sorry.
you tell me not to be sorry.
even though i try my best.
i never succeed, so i cannot rest.

stupid, stupid, stupid.
i feel like i am stupid.
obviously i'm the least of all.
no one cares when i take a fall.

weakling, weakling, weakling.
i am truly just a weakling.
melting from your sweetest words.
hoping my promises have been heard.
a small little snippet. not my best honestly.
maxime Nov 2016
A little bug sneaks past the window
Completely unseen and completely unheard.
A bug so small can barely be detected,
a bug so tiny it will never be noticed.

But the bug lands on a flower,
which was previously undisturbed.
A beautiful flower it is -
Colours brilliant and bright.

The flower seems unharmed,
facing towards the shining sun.
Little does it know,
it's own death has begun.

The small bug leaves -
Flies away with the blink of an eye.
The Flower faces down now,
Pretending not to cry.
When will you get out of my life.
maxime Nov 2016
darling, i can see the pain in your eyes.
you cannot even force a full laugh.
it's empty and cold, half-hearted and broken.
you tell me that you're fine,
when you and I both know you're far from a safe place.

i know that you lied when you say you're okay,
then your text notification wakes me up in the dead of night.
i know that you lied when you say everything is fine,
then i can't find you because you ran away once again.
you're not fine. you won't be for a long time.

but darling, i know you'll get there.
i know that someday you'll truly smile again.
i know you'll never forget her.
and i hope that you'll never forget me either
because we're the two that destroyed and rebuilt you.

someday is a day that you cannot even imagine.
it's foreign and lost in your panicked and damaged mind.
but i'm here to prove that someday truly does exist.
i'm here to guide you along a path to meet me here too.
i will never abandon you, no matter how evil you think you are.
because i love you. whether your someday is near or far.
pretty much all of my poems are in lapslock and i'm not even sorry about it
maxime Nov 2016
They call it a descent. A spiral. A fall.
As if you have failed over and over
Feeling new emotions with each new failure.
The truth is, it's the same every **** time.
The same nightmare.
The same uncontrollable shaking.
The familiar feeling of bile rising.
The familiar ache to be grounded.
And you can't help but give in.
The old blade is dug out,
Though you thought it was long forgotten.
The pain is sweet.
It seems to bring you down,
Bring you back to an Earth you hate
But are too afraid to leave.
The same events repeat.
The next night, the next week, the next month.
And the only difference between each one
Is that you hate yourself just a bit more
For spiraling once again.
maxime Apr 2017
i'm hurt
you're hurting me
*and whatever
oh **** oh **** oh **** !!!!!!
maxime Mar 2017
This place is numbing. This place is overwhelming.
Rumors say that this is the place dreams o to die.
What happened to the streets paved with gold?
I have to get out. I have to get out!
I can recognize every face I pass on the sidewalk,
And I know that every face recognizes me.
I can't live like that. I can't live like that!
If my face is known, my mistakes are remembered.
But I cannot remember their mistakes because I'm dwelling on my own.
I fear if I remain much longer, I will die if their hatred doesn't **** me first.
maxime Mar 2017
You always want what you can't have, sweetheart
Greedy hands grabbing at goodies
That are far out of your reach
You lost your ability to receive them
You destroyed your chance long ago
Don't come crying to me, sweetheart
Because I'm sure you already know
That I care nothing of what you become.
maxime May 2017
terror is feeling like you're losing everything: your mind, your friends, your family, your sanity, every single unique characteristic about yourself, and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it
maxime Aug 2016
“Drown in acid rain,” you told the monster.
Do you think of me that way,
Now that I've hurt her as well?
Because we all know that she can do no wrong,
At least not in your eyes.
So, of course, I must be the one at fault.
Me and my twisted gray world
That blurred all your carefully drawn black and white lines.
She learned that from you didn't she?
She took her worldview from you:
A man that never smiled,
A man that only ever saw black and white,
A man that I completely baffled because I had joy.
That was completely foreign to you.
Does that mean that, in turn, you stole her naivety?
Her happiness?
Her joy?
You forced her into a boring world.
If that's so, I'll meet you outside,
Drowning in rain beside me.
Toy
maxime Nov 2016
Toy
Toy: a thing or matter of no value or importance
Doll, plaything, trinket
Handled, moved, manipulated;
Exploited, fondled, groped

These words should send a chill down every girl's spine
They should raise the hair on their arms,
Make them look over their shoulder one extra time when they go outside
Replace a few hours of sleep with nightmares of terror.

Because here, you are nothing more than a toy.
You are not human with hope, dreams, and aspirations.
You cannot conduct yourself with dignity, maturity, and respect.
You are nothing but a body, here to be a toy.

Remember that, as a woman, your safety is worth nothing.
Remember that a ******'s fear for his safety is more concerning that a 15 year old girl's.
Remember that your dignity, your self worth, your self respect, your entire identity
Isn't worth more than a couple months in county jail to a man.

A woman’s ability to create life is not even her own.
It is something that is debated between men a thousand miles away.
It is something that is controlled by the hand of a man.
The most basic right and role of a woman is stripped from them.

To a man you an object.
There is no difference between you and the doormat into a man's house.
You are thrown on the ground, covered in pine needles, and walked all over.
No difference.

A woman’s concerns can be dismissed because this is just “locker room banter”
You are used as a ploy to further a man’s political presence.
This is a part of our daily lives now.
Get used to it.

We will no longer teach our children to stay away from drugs and be safe around wild animals
We will teach our daughters to fear a beard instead of the click of a gun.
We will teach them to be afraid of their fathers and their brothers, simply for their own safety.

They will be forced to cover themselves.
Hide their joyful smiles. Cover graceful legs. Mask skillful hands.
Because otherwise, they will be blamed for their maltreatment, told that they asked for it.
They still might be, because, remember, a woman’s word means nothing.

Toy: a thing or matter of no value or importance.
Doll, plaything, trinket.
Handled, moved, manipulated.
Exploited, fondled, groped.

I am a woman. I am no more than a toy.
A spoken word poem I had to write for a class. I decided to share.
maxime May 2017
will you just leave me alone
maxime Oct 2016
Does she still think about me?* asked the Owlet.

I don't think she cared about you enough for you to remain in their thoughts replied the Wind.
apparently I'm starting a little snippets series
maxime Oct 2016
I hope to finally meet the sky one day* the Owlet admitted.

You shoot too high the Night laughed. **You'll only fall, never fly
maxime Oct 2016
I don't know if I recognize the person in the mirror anymore.* the Owlet admitted.

Doesn't matter. said the Night **You're worthless no matter who you are
maxime Nov 2016
Do you think she will leave me?* the Owlet questioned.

Everyone moves on to the next best thing the Wind replied.
maxime Mar 2017
I told you that writing would only perpetuate your anguish* the Night laughed as the Wind chuckled in the background.

I thought I was strong enough* the Owlet admitted.
v.
maxime Jul 2018
v.
i thought i knew pain and anguish but nothing has pained me more than reading those poems and wondering if they were for me

or for her.
vi.
maxime Jul 2018
vi.
dear god i'm a demon
maxime Oct 2016
Paint yourself with sores and wounds
Broken bones and a broken soul
Allow yourself to wallow in self pity, self loathing
You deserve it

I truly believe that you are the worst kind of person
Apathy is all you deserve
You used another person as a toy for your own pleasure
I feel no empathy when you are terrified by the horrors you've created

Your eyes have finally been opened
Watering as they are bombarded with smoke and flames
The destruction you have caused, created, entertained yourself with?
It's permanent. You cannot fix this. It's done.

Don't crying poor victim,
When both you and I know you're not.
Leave her alone to she can find her smile again.
Try to fix yourself before you go fixing someone else.
venting session
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