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  Mar 2018 Megan
boys like you smell of mint and wood and pain
and taste like my insatiable thirst and the midsummer rain

bringing an array of gifts to girls like me
chocolate for breakfast and heartbreak for afternoon tea

boys like you rarely have time to stop, stare and rue
but boy, time stops to stare at you

boys like you bolt their hearts in golden chains
and have vengeance in their eyes and titanium in their veins

an impenetrable fortress deaf to my love's incessant humming
Boy you are my wreckage, my destruction.
My unbecoming.
  Mar 2018 Megan
I’m tired of living
For everyone but me
I’m tired of being
What you need me to be
I’m tired of helping
Everyone but myself
Tired of trying
To live for everyone else
But I can try to be happy
And I can try to be me
To become that girl
That I hope that you see
Because I have so much to live for
And so much I can do
And I’m tired of knowing
That I’m doing all this for you
Although you may love me
Which you know means a lot
You can’t force me to become
A person I’m not
I’m dark but I’m happy
I’m cold but I smile
So just listen to my voice
And I’ll stay here a while
I know that you saved me
I will never forget
But I need to live for me now
And I haven’t started yet
  Mar 2018 Megan
phil roberts
As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts
This may well be my last poem here.
  Mar 2018 Megan
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
  Mar 2018 Megan
If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.
This is the first poem (that I have a copy of) i wrote that I actually thought was good. I was in seventh grade, twelve years old, and I wrote it for a newspaper competition. I knew it was really great but I didn't think I would beat all other applicants in the state in my age group. So you can imagine my surprise I'm sure when I DID win! That is the first time I was proud of my writing. So this one has a lot of special sentimental value. Thanks for reading.

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