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Meagan Marie May 2014
I write only the poems that I would enjoy reading.
Meagan Marie May 2014
Two things come to mind at that end of the year:
1. Thank goodness!
2. Stress! Stress, stress, stress, stress!

If high school was a story, where would the falling action be in the plot?
That's the thing, though,
There isn't one.
The new year comes
and our stories only rise up
and up to the ****** building and building until suddenly

STOP
Do not go on.
Do not turn the page.
This is the end of the testing session.

The sudden fall.
We learned so much, so fast
But we lose it just as quickly.
****** to resolution, there is no in between.

Another year gone like that.
And thus comes the "new" beginning.
A "new" story,
A "new" chapter,
history just waiting to repeat itself.

The beginning:
Of a year the same as all the rest.
Of time wasted.
Of knowledge gone.
Of saying this time, yes, this time will be different.
Of saying it won't be the same as you've made it for the past eleven years.
Because this year, you're going out with a bang, giving it your best shot.

Until it all doesn't matter.
Until that disease sets in.

So yes,
It's the beginning.
Will you make it new?
Meagan Marie May 2014
Hello poetry
sigh
It's been a while.
Oh I hate these encounters,
why am I forced to deal with this every year?

I, uh, wasn't expecting you...
Why are you here?

Whatever, lets just get this over with
so you can get out of my life, at least for now.




Well... I guess you can go now.
It was
actually
kind of good to see you again.


Wait!
Oh, what am I doing?
Come back!
I'm sorry, for everything.
Everything I said about you,
I was wrong.
I was blind.
Why don't you come back in and
stay for a while.
Meagan Marie May 2014
This backpack has been sitting on my shoulders since last May.
I didn't really notice it at first, at least it bother me much.
But now it's May again and I've come to realize
it's grown quite heavy on my shoulders.
Who knew that this whole time all I had to do was just take it off.

  And I'd be free.
Meagan Marie May 2014
I have a theory about this game, why people love it:

  2        4       2
  4        2       2
  8       16     32     64
1028  512   256   128


The moment when you failure is
breathing down your neck,
then,

row two, column three to the left
now, take that tile down
right
right
right
down
left
left
left

And you're alive.
You won.
Meagan Marie May 2014
I thought when I realized what made me happy, what motivates me to work hard I could have peace.
Maybe it would make me better having this realization.
I pictured myself actually working hard and feeling motivated to something before 9 o'clock at night.

But then I didn't.
Why didn't I?
Why does it seem so hard for me?
It really isn't.

Finding out that I'm kind of just a disappointment because of my love for cramming my life with as much as I can didn't really help either.
I don't understand how it could be bad.
It just means I fill all that wasted time with not necessarily productive things, but certainly nothing bad.
Then, when I'm done at 9, it's productive time.
It's perfect!
for me...
But not so much when 9 o'clock doesn't roll around until breakfast or just before the bell rings.
And I guess not so much when I let them down, even though I still don't understand why.

Is that ignorance?
Like a puppy dragging mud through the house.
Never truly understanding why it's so bad cause he just went out to *** and came back in.
Only learning through the scolding looks and raised voices that he should avoid it, not because he agrees with his parents and thinks it's wrong.

It doesn't really even matter though.
The passion seems to be gone either way so why not cave in and learn to wipe my paws before I step in the door.

But I'm still searching.
My passion,
my motivation,
my strive,
they're all there just waiting,
waiting for me to find them.
So I keep searching.

I will find them.
Meagan Marie May 2014
Some days,
well..
most days lately,
I hate it!
Or at least I think I do.
But it isn't so bad,
really.
I think,
just maybe,
it's all in my head.
Well,
not just my head!
I'm surrounded by these thoughts.
We all,
more like a lot,
no,
many
of us think it is so bad.
But how hard do we really try?
It just comes from our tongues
right into our ears
then straight
into our
heads.

Would I do it all differently?
No.
Well,
yes.
I would.
But not that kind of differently.
#ib
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