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They found a little courage
That simmered in the sun
They blended it with patience
And just a little spice of fun
They poured in hope and laughter
Then with a sudden twist
They stirred it all together
And made an **optimist
Who said I always had to be depressing?
Lights fade, days end
Lone nights, daydreams
Broken down in agony
Just trying to find the light
I looked back at him until the picture slipped away
Hearing voices;
“When she cannot help but hurt you do you read the words I wrote you?”
They tell me to smile, but I just can’t pretend.
I let you slip away…
If I could go back and do it again
I’d be someone you might call a friend
I would stay, and I would say:
“I was never meant to fight on my own.”
Please, please believe that I’m sorry.
Inspiration came from listening to 3 and a half hours of music!
Death by ******, death by chance
Death by a certain circumstance
Death by number, death by fight
Death in colour, black or white
Accidental, plan prolonged
Death by always doing wrong
Death by self, a timeless art
Death by one last broken heart
Let's just say that I like Stephen King...
Dealing with the dangers of everyday life
Each day alone with stress and strife
Praying to God to sort it out
Remembering what brought it all about
Every day a different test
Securing a future, nevertheless
Seeing its secrets and letting them go
In life itself, and the world we know
Only thinking that maybe someday
Nice things will happen, like peace, we pray.
Fear:
Hurting me
Killing me
With cold hands
Tearing my heart
And twisting my soul.
Hiding underneath
The cold-blooded veins
Like a dead cherry-blossom
Seeing life:
"Forever alone."
Fear is taught. You aren't born with it. So why am I scared of the dead cockroach in my locker?
There is no true meaning of life;
We are all born to live
We all live to die
But while we're here,
Why not make the most of it?
Take chances
Risk everything
Outgrow yourself.
Life is short,
Let it happen
Love the people that treat you right,
Forgive the ones who do not
And never regret anything that made you smile:
Everything happens for a reason
Nobody said it would be easy,
But trust me, it's worth it...
Submission for poetry competition at school, what do you think?
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
I want to be thin, pretty and tall.

Mirror, mirror if I starve myself,
I will be beautiful, forget my health

Mirror, mirror if I cut my wrist,
Will I still cease to I exist?

Mirror, mirror don't you see;
What you show is killing me.
You go home. You look in the mirror. You cry. You think you are ugly. You think you are fat. You want to die. And the worst thing is, the next day, it happens all over again. Until the day you give up.
On Valentine's Day,
There's cards and roses.
No need for acts or lies or poses.
Because there is only one thing you need to know,
As there is only one feeling you need to show.
You need to be honest, clean and sincere.
So here it goes loud and clear,
My love for you is so very great,
And it has been up to this date.
But still I'll remain your silent lover,
And leave you wondering who's undercover.
I love you, I love you with all my heart,
And ache all the time we are apart.
This poem of love is from me too you,
No matter how you feel or what you do.
I tried to write something different...
Red** was aggression that you made me feel,
You had courage, strength and audacity,
You stripped it from me.
Orange was the sleep dispossession I had,
Out of food, warmth, emotional security;
You gave a knife to me.
Yellow is my emotional fragility,
If not for what you have done,
I would have seen the glass as half-full.
Green represents the boredom, the stagnation
Instead of harmony, love and balance,
And I only ask you why?
Blue is the colour of intelligence and trust;
You say that life is a game of trust,
I say it is a grand psychological lie.
Violet shows inferiority in me;
You don't love me, you never did,
Because you don't destroy people you love.
And worst of all, BLACK, with the power to ****,
Gives oppression and heaviness
And a ticket to Brazil...
http://www.colour-affects.co.uk/psychological-properties-of-colours
Random Fact of the Day: In 2012, Brazil had the highest ****** rate in the world.
Our lives run different ways
Maybe it is just another phase
I’ve been here before
And I want to do it no more
It’s dog eat dog all the time
It’s dog eat dog to survive
You’re in all of my daydreams
But that’s okay because I’ve got no self-esteem

I’m not the one that started it all
You sarcastic mister know-it-all
You’re rejection’s got me so low
If you keep then I just might go
I’m just the same as I was back then
And I’m never changing who I am
I feel quite poor, much to an extreme
But that’s okay because I’ve got no self-esteem

Why would you want to break my heart?
Why would you want to tear our love apart?
Now I cry, but I don’t tell anyone
Because I’m no longer your ‘Golden One’
And I know that I’m being used
But it’s okay, because I like the abuse
I’m in a nightmare; no one can hear me scream
But that’s okay because I’ve got no self-esteem

I know, after time in that horrid jail cell
The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell
I love you, please forgive me, for I know not what I do
I only wish that I once had the chance to actually meet you
Why did you not tell me who you really were?
Why did you not care if I was really hurt?
I know that you don’t care that you’re mean
But that’s okay because I’ve got no self-esteem
I’m just a sucker with no self-esteem…
Dedicated to all those that have suffered in silence...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkFH0KMO0G0
I know not how to thank you enough, my dear
When I am walking over to you
I just want to see a wave
But you showed me the ocean

I know not how to thank you enough, my dear
When I am walking over to you
I just want to pick a ring
But you gave me your ring

I know not how to thank you enough, my dear
When I am walking over to you
I just want to find a simple heart
But you gave me a broken heart
She painted a pretty picture,
But her story had a twist:
Her paintbrush was a razor,
Her canvas was her wrist.

She painted a pretty picture,
In a colour, a quite deep red.
After using her pretty paintbrush,
She ends up, finally dead.

She painted a pretty picture,
That faded slowly on her arm.
With blood no longer racing through her,
She no longer do any harm.

She painted a pretty picture,
But her story had a twist:
You see, her mind was her razor,
And her heart was her wrist.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
            Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
            Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
            This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
            Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
            Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
            With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my *****’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
            She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
            Shall be lifted—nevermore!
I quite like this poem, suspense...
Written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1845.
Do I fear
The sleepless
Nights?
You
Have no idea
How long
The dark lasts
When you cannot
Close your eyes
To it...
Tyler Knott Gregson
Liam Neeson movies,
Lop-sided smiles,
Dandelion fields,
Fake marriage proposals,
Grass-stained knees,
Ketchup lips.
TRIGGER WARNING
“I put my first boyfriend away,”
I say at parties
Because I am a dangerous girl.
I am better at Russian Roulette
Than I am at beer pong.
I have stared down the barrel of a loaded gun,
This blonde girl stared back at me.
She doesn’t look anything like me.
If I didn’t look anything like me
Maybe he wouldn’t be able to find me.
My mother makes me dye my hair back;
She tells me judges don’t trust bleached blondes.
She asks,
“How is it abusive if he never hit you?”
TRIGGER WARNING
Plastic tiaras and performance chefs.
“No one will love you like I do.”
TRIGGER WARNING
I sleep with a baseball bat under the bed,
Carry hot pink pepper spray in my purse like lipstick.
My friend Dolton tells me he can get me a gun.
TRIGGER WARNING
No one will love you.
TRIGGER WARNING
I do not know my own triggers;
They are the way a stranger walks down the street
Or the way that my lover's lips
Form around a word.
“I put my first boyfriend away,”
I say at parties
Because everything is a trigger;
There is no safety on my mouth.
I say it because I’m waiting for it
To stop feeling like a lie.
TRIGGER WARNING
I signed the papers.
TRIGGER WARNING
I called the hotlines.
TRIGGER WARNING
He sat in a jail cell.
TRIGGER WARNING
I sat in a stairwell,
Shaking with the recoil
Of everything that we had done to each other.
I walk to work even though I feel
Too small to be a babysitter today;
I need someone to look after me today,
To cut my apple slices for me,
To hold my hand crossing intersections;
Keep me away from knives
TRIGGER WARNING
And cars
TRIGGER WARNING
And men on the street
TRIGGER WARNING
Who look like knives and cars.
I don’t believe in lying to children
But when she asked me what was wrong
I still tell her the storybook version.
I tell her that once
A bad man broke into my house.
I wish I had also told her
That the bad men look like respectable young men,
TRIGGER WARNING
That the bad men will compliment your grandmother
On her cooking from across the table,
TRIGGER WARNING
That the bad men write love poems,
TRIGGER WARNING
That the bad men smile so wide
They will swallow you
And you will then convince yourself you asked him to.
"Stalkers can’t be convicted unless their victims prove they feared for their lives."
How do you prove fear?
How do you put months of hell breaths into words?
And will you please come with me?
And he will **** me!
TRIGGER WARNING
He will **** me!
TRIGGER WARNING
He will **** me!
TRIGGER WARNING
But I told you so on my gravestone,
Because you can’t ever say
"She didn’t scream loud enough
"Into a ziplock bag
"For the ladies and gentlemen
"Of the jury."
TRIGGER WARNING
Loaded questions,
TRIGGER WARNING
Filling every chamber of my heart
With ammunition,
TRIGGER WARNING
Always a weapon,
TRIGGER WARNING
Always an ultimatum,
TRIGGER WARNING
He shoots me,
Underage,
Underweight.
TRIGGER WARNING
Contorted in his favourite positions,
TRIGGER WARNING
Tells me he knows how to upload the pictures,
TRIGGER WARNING
Without leaving any fingerprints.
TRIGGER WARNING
Aim: loving someone,
TRIGGER WARNING
Handing them a map of your weak spots.
TRIGGER WARNING
Fire!
TRIGGER WARNING
Fire!
TRIGGER WARNING
Fire!
No warning shots.
My friend Dolton tells me he can get me a gun.
I tell him I have seen a gun go off,
Yet I cannot shake the habit
Of believing, I can stare down the barrel
And gently wrap my fingers
Around the trigger
Without pulling.
Harsh words & violent blows
Hidden secrets nobody knows
Eyes are open, hands are ******
Deep inside I'm warped & twisted

So many tricks & so many lies
Too many whens & too many whys
Nobody's special, nobody's gifted
I'm just me, warped & twisted

Sleeping awake & choking on a dream
Listening loudly to a silent scream
Call my mind, the number's unlisted
Lost in someone so warped & twisted

On my knees, alive but dead
Look at the invisible blood I've bled
I do not go, my mind has drifted
Don't expect much, I'm warped & twisted

Burnt out, wasted, empty, & hollow
Today's just yesterday's tomorrow
The sun died out, the ashes sifted
I'm still here, warped & twisted
Originally written by Osoanon Nimuss
When tomorrow starts without me, I will not be here to see,
That the sun will rise and find your eyes; filled with tears for me,
But please know you're always in my heart, and I will forever love you,
And know, each time you think of me, I will be missing you too.

When tomorrow starts without me, I need you to understand,
That an angel came, he called my name and took me by the hand.
He told me it was time to go up to heaven far above,
And that I have to leave behind all those I dearly love.

When tomorrow starts without me, I know that you will cry,
For all my life I’d always thought that I would never die.
I had so much life ahead of me; I had so much to do,
It seems almost impossible that I was leaving you.

When tomorrow starts without me, I think of the good days, and the bad,
I thought of all our fights, next to all the fun we had.
If I could have stayed, just for a little while,
I would say I'd always be here, and then I'd make you smile.

When tomorrow starts without me, I'll realise that this could never be,
As all that would be left of me, is frozen in memories.
Then I thought of all the beautiful things that I would miss tomorrow,
I thought of you and when I did my heart was filled with sorrow.

When tomorrow starts without me I will walk through heaven’s gate,
I will feel at home even without my soul mate.
I know this is what I wanted, deep down within my bones,
And God looked down and smiled at me from his great golden throne.

When tomorrow starts without me I see everything He promised me,
“Today your life on earth is past, and now you can be free.”
“I promise no tomorrow as today will always last,
And since it's all the same you will not be longing for the past.”

So when tomorrow starts without me don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me I’m right here in your heart.

— The End —