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You're older now, soldier.
Your wars aren't the same.

Dust and the blinds they collect,
days that feel red, almost enviable
in their passion.

Shaky hands again, dry mouth
again, sirens singing low in
the black water day after day.

Death should mean something.
Encore for the epitaph!

It isn't real, but it is. It's replaying
in your head. It isn't real, but

it happened.
Sitting here at
10:09 on a Monday
sipping peppermint
tea
and all I can think of
is how much longer
my poems would
be if I wrote them
in a drunken rage
and I say longer
and not better
because drunk words
are sober thoughts
and all I write
is what I'm thinking
at the moment
and call it
Poetry
 Jun 2017 Em Orrman
Megan Elliott
I am a trained assassin
One you can't see
I bring forth happiness
So you can feel pain free

I am a trained assassin
One you shouldn't fear
I slay the monsters in the night
So you won't shed a tear

I am a trained assassin
One you know well
I love you dear, oh so much
It's for you, my heart swells
 Apr 2017 Em Orrman
EtherealOmega
We are not shattered glass for you to attempt to piece back together only to cut yourself using that shed blood as an excuse for us owing you.. We are not shattered glass. We are iron.. Dented by the toils of this world, and the fires of your abuse are tempering us into steel..

... We will steal ourselves away from you time and time again until our hearts learn to understand the difference between love and abuse. Until our hearts learn the meaning of the word "No."... And until yours. do. too.

                            - EPL (EtherealOmega)
It's just a small piece that I thought of. It would make a good end for a longer SW piece.
 Apr 2017 Em Orrman
Neko
Gender
 Apr 2017 Em Orrman
Neko
Gender is such a fun game, Isn't it?

I remember as a kid I would play Wizard101 and in the beginning before creating a new

Character, you must establish if you were a

Boy.. Or a Girl.

I had one female wizard, and one boy wizard and in my mind, that was okay until

I showed my heavily religious grandparent the game.

She asked me why there was one boy character, and one girl character.

I told her it was my friends and she smiled, as if she were relieved.

The next sentence that spilled from her old ancient lips made me almost cry.

She smoothed her khakis and said

I was afraid you would say that they were both you, because you should only have a girl character.

And no, Oma, it was not my friend's character because in my mind, I wanted to be that boy character.

In my mind, I  wanted to be that female character as well.

When I was Thirteen, I got a plaid shirt for Christmas. I put it on and my friends said

It made me look like a lesbian.

And only one of my friends said it looked good on me.

At that time, I was declaring myself "bisexual" finding both girls and guys

to be very attractive.

My favourite viner was a neutrois and I thought this was normal.

In fact, I wanted to cut my hair short  and wear guy-ish clothes for a longtime.

So many people have told me that I must identify as "boy" or "male"

Or ****, even "girl" and "female"

Well guess what.

I'm worth more than a ******* "Other" button.

So are other people.

People, humans.

That's what we are, isn't it?
 Apr 2017 Em Orrman
betterdays
bright, bright spotlight sun

showing my weakness'
to the world......
 Apr 2017 Em Orrman
A
What if I told you
I want to die?
That I'm tired of living,
of being alive?

What if I said
it gets worse at night?
The thoughts get louder
and everything seems wrong

What if I told you I lied
when I said I was fine?
When I said I'm fine, how are you,
I was actually crying on the inside.

What if I lied
and said everything is alright
No, I'm not crying,
I swear I'm fine.

What if I tried to take my life?
Would you send me to rehab?
Hoping the doctors would fix me,
and everything would be fine?

What if I told you hope is dumb?
That hope is a stupid thing to have
Because when I have hope,
everything falls apart.

What if I told you I lied, again, when I said I was better?
That I only said that so you wouldn't worry?
Well,
I did.

What if I said to you,
I've hated myself since the age of 9?
That I wish you could've helped,
before it was too late?

What if I succeeded in killing myself?
I doubt anyone would cry.
Would you even care,
If I took my own life?
My first poem.  Thanks for reading... xoxo - Avery
 Apr 2017 Em Orrman
Gidgette
The enjoyment they gather, from each
Black feather,
Plucked
So carelessly
from my oiled wings
They smile as pieces of me are worn
upon the brows of faint hearted paper mache
Death,
I'm served daily
upon
Silver platters,
with a side of flame
No extra charge
They smile red,
Placing my feathers in
Mine own hair
They like that
Those demons I serve myself to
I'm at the country club working right now. Yay me.
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