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 Oct 2014 Reese Mauro
Rebecca
Ghost
 Oct 2014 Reese Mauro
Rebecca
Constantly blasting my music in hopes of losing my hearing
so maybe then I'll stop hearing the ghost of your voice
 Oct 2014 Reese Mauro
ratgirl
We think we're alone,
But we only have to look around,
And we're just like everyone else.

Typical, sad teenagers,
Aware it's generic yet it feels so personal,
Driving our insecurities more and more.

And I don't know which would be worse,
To be so alone,
Or to mean nothing at all.
 Oct 2014 Reese Mauro
Prodigy
If life is an experiment,
where are the variables?
Are they evident?

People come and people go,
places change, people age,
And you adapt as you grow.

Feelings vary through the years,
there’s love, there’s loss,
there’s joy, and tears.

The conditions change, from time to time,
Different settings, journeys new,
no set paradigm.

And the subjects shift,
in the focus of life,
some a curse, some a gift.

Some say happiness comes from within,
but I name it the dependent variable,
changing to reflect life’s every whim.

But there’s one thing I seem to miss:
If life’s an experiment,
where’s the constant in all of this?

Is the constant life, breathing, living?

Is the constant you, existing, here?
Is the constant love, growing, giving?

Is the constant intangible?
Is it time, or place?
What is the unchanging variable?

What does humanity all somehow share?
What connects us to each other,
and throughout our lives is always there?
Your body is your canvas.
You never keep it safe,
you adorn it with scars
of lost loves, of lost dreams, of all your burnt-out stars.

Your lifestyle's your easel,
the only thing that keeps you high,
be it the days when you just can't stay still,
or those when you shatter and cry.

Your thoughts are acrylics,
shades of melancholy, maroon and black.
They characterize your essence,
all the hopes and falls you've stacked.

Your words are your brushes,
imagine how many stories they tell.
With every sigh you define
another line within your personal hell.

Do not lose your ambition, don't give up your health,
for you are not just an artist, you are art itself.
 Oct 2014 Reese Mauro
ephemeral
She wasn't the kind of girl
You would usually notice
She wasn't super popular
Or loud
Or "hot"
Or super friendly towards everyone
Or surrounded by tons of friends
She was the kind of girl
You couldn't help but fall in love with
Once you got to know her
Because of her quirky personality
And her dry sense of humor
And the way her whole face lit up
When she laughed
Because of how much love and hate
She held inside of her
For the world and the people in it
As well as the way she smiled
At the most random-seeming things
And how her eyes sometimes
Clouded over
"What's wrong?"
"My mind's just stormy today"
Is all she would say
She was the kind of girl
Your mind would register as
"Trainwreck"
But you wouldn't care,
Because she was the kind of girl
You would find only in books
And you couldn't bear
To lose her
Hi I didn't really know where I was going with this when I wrote it but I actually really like it. Feedback would be awesome.
 Oct 2014 Reese Mauro
ratgirl
There's nothing left of me now.
I don't know what I've become.
I don't know if it's good,
I don't know if it's bad,
but I know I want to go back.

I want to feel young again.
Young enough to feel alive,
young enough to have a colourful mind,
and a heart full of ambition.
A time when nothing's ever enough.
If you can, make hell
For those who become demons
Make them feel at home
hell must be empty
the demons are all here

they live inside of the shell of me
they have been for years

kicking my stomach

tossing my heart

twisting my mind

their silence is deafening
it's worse than my scream

hell can be empty
the demons are all here

they play around in my eyes
and make me believe what i can't see
they trick me into hearing what i want
and make me need what i glimpse

they help me deceive people
hurt people
break my heart while trying to crush others

hell should be empty
the demons are all here

they're darkness and ropes
my blades and my nooses
my tears and my blood
my powder and my pills
my guns and my ammo

hell could be empty
the demons are all here

they help me scare people
to betray them in any way
because they say "no one cares"
and i can't help but believe them

so when i say run away
get away fast
you must do what i want
or your heart won't last
i'll push you away
build concrete walls around me

so the demons can't hurt you




nor



i



can




hell is empty
the devil is right here
This is quite a dark poem, but I hope you understand the twist of Shakespeare "Hell is empty" line from The Tempest
It's just my convey of depression, so, please, no hate.
Any CC is appreciated.
My stars, my three stars who guide me.
You guide me through the good and bad.
You guide me when I'm happy and when I'm sad.
You guide me when I want to be,
Alone, away from the World.
Locked away with a key.
My three stars circulate my every move.
You have that way of soothe.
You're my miracle,
And I'm yours.
Missing you is like thunder with lighting,
Always there.

Missing you is being struck by that lightning,
Making your thoughts the thunder.

Missing you is finding strength in yourself to stop the rumbling jumble that frightens others.
Yet you are used to it as it occurs daily.

Missing you is swimming in the tears shed for days apart.

Missing you is becoming the person you are today.

Missing you is something I will do,
Day after day until we are reunited.

I miss you.
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