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They say a mirror breaks
Into a thousand pieces
When it is hit by
By anything that contains
The force to shatter it
And crack the glass,that
Might have been immaculate,
Or might have been *****,
With layers of filth-
There might have been a
Lady,who looked at the
Mirror and ogled at her
Perfect complexion and
Candy apple red lips,
Or there might have been
A teenage girl who
Looked at it,only to
Check if the acne’s gone,
There might have been a
Child who smiled at the
Mirror, to get that same
Sheepish grin in return
There might have been people,
So many people,
Who looked in the mirror,
Some to forget,and
Some to remember,
Some to dream big, and
Some to hide a guilt-
But now, all of it
Lies shattered in bits,
In shards that dig deep
In the skins of humans,
And sardonic blood
Flows warm against their skins-
All the faces are now nothing,
But sharp,evil shards.
 Oct 2015 Natalia Zigante
Sarah
On this morning,
where the road's
reflecting gold

I think of all the
promises I've
made myself,
the sun, a draping
curtain over daybreak

and I wrap a scarf
around my neck
and hold my bony
hands
against my heart

It's October and
I've learned to love
myself again.
 Oct 2015 Natalia Zigante
R
The Girl
 Oct 2015 Natalia Zigante
R
I don’t want to be the girl of your dreams. I don’t want you to put me on a pedestal because we all know pedestals crumble and break under pressure. I don’t want you to think of me as someone who’s out of your league. I don’t want to be the girl you secretly admire when you can’t muster enough courage to say it out loud. I don’t want you to think of me as the one who got away when in the first place, you never got a hold of me. I’m not going anywhere and this is going nowhere. I just want to be the girl you think of years from now when your hair is already gray, when your eyes are tired and you’re stirring your morning coffee, thinking that you should’ve poured less creamer in order to resemble my dark brown eyes.
to the future
I want to go home.
Not to the home I know now
but to the home I used to know,
I sit at home and I long for it.

For my naivety,
for my happiness,
for the memories that will
pale all others,

for the people who will never be young
again
and the ones that will never be alive
again.

I miss how bad I had it
and not even knowing
or caring
because I was happy.

I know now
and it hurts.
I want to go home
even when I am home.
"Hey man, like your hair."
Hours later I'm bare
and in bed
wine up in my
head
I have so much
love to share
but it's wasted
on birds
sitting alone
atop an electrical wire
my eyes that see
the beauty in everything
slowly expire
till the mirror
tells me
"You're nothing"
naked in my bed
wishing for
something
Daniel Magner 2014
 Feb 2014 Natalia Zigante
John
i never understood people
who preferred tapping on keys
to gripping a beautiful pen
and scratching thoughts on
paper

tapping, tapping, tapping away
all day
has it's advantages
but in the end
it feels so
hollow
so

empty

but still
here i am
tapping
tapping
tapping
tapping
away
staring at my pen
glaring at my paper
tapping
away
I'm just laying down, trying to fathom why my mind is so cruel.
Deadly thoughts, call it Freddy Kruger.
Because people don't even know how I'm dying inside.
Just get me a coffin so maybe I can lay down a bit more.

I've been laying down all day, maybe because everybody has been stepping on me.
And I'm just too weak to get back up, well I'm just use to it.
Living in the shadow of somebody else.
Always coming in second just means that I'm nothing special.

Maybe I come off the wrong way.
Come off as nice and caring.
And I hate that.
Because nice guys don't even come in second, they always finish last.
Letting everyone ahead.
Leaving no happiness and joy for themselves.

I'm just there smiling but making no sound.
Except saying, "I'm fine, I'm just a bit tired."

I let my words say nothing at all and let my silence explain everything.
Why is it that when I don't have a smile on my face, it's the only time  you ask me if I'm okay.


I'm sorry.
That for one day, I show my real emotions and made you worry.
I'm sorry.
That I was talking to your crush because she was the only one that could make me smile at the time.
I'm sorry.
For being me.
A snake, a bad friend, and a horrible person.
I'm sorry.
For getting out of bed this morning.
life is like a song
cause sometimes there are
parts where the chorus hits
and it *******
erases all the doubt of life
before that swell of chords
and voices scratching against throats.
i've been alive with doubt and now the guitars are humming and the drums are steady and i'm screaming the words so loud
and everyone can hear me but i don't care
cause i'm singing the chorus so loud it hurts
because i believe it and it's real
and the laughter outside my door
is overwhelmed and alone is a
beautiful thing to be screaming
along with.
The night was hazed with strobe lights
    Blinding faces of those 'round.
Bowling ***** were roaring their way
     Proclaim war against the pins
Drinks were downed with unquenchable thirst
       One after another
The music seeped through the floors, walls, and chairs
      Causing them to try and shake it out
        Only to be dancing with the rest
And then I became a blurred face
       A captain of war
          A consumer of happiness
              A soul moved by vibrations in the air.
                            On a Friday.
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