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How do I keep good grades
When I can't find the willpower to pull myself out of bed to get to school
How do I keep a good relationship
When no one can convince me I'm worth anything
How do I keep my friends
When they all move away
How do I smile
When all I want to do is break down and cry
How can I love others
When I can't even love myself
How can I be responsible
When I can't remember to eat or do homework
How can I do anything
When I try to sleep
And darkness slips through my dreams
"You're a failure"
"You're worth nothing to anyone"
"What's the point in living anymore?"
How can I face the dark
When you say to "just get over it"
"Just get out of bed"
"Be a good student"
How can I be strong
There's so much weight on my shoulders
Like a freight train of things to do
But I am so weak
My bones are brittle
I have cuts and scars that will not heal
I can't believe in myself
And no one else will
So this train will crush my brittle bones
I'll be nothing and no one
But that's no different than what I am today
I'll be gone with the wind
Shattered and swept away
With no one to remember
The girl who tried her hardest
Which was never enough.
A poem about depression.
Soccer, like baseball has legends as well
Some are great players, and some you can't tell
They have great careers, some ring the bell
But some are still legends,  others...legends that fell
Pele', no question is the best of them all
He could perform football magic when he had the ball
Is his World Cup in Sweden, the best of them all
None had his magic, or walked quite so tall
Team England at Wembley won in sixsty six
With Charlton and Moore, they were top of the picks
But since then, no more magic...something they can't fix
They went out as World Champs, but the curse..it still sticks
Maradonna, no question, has an ego like none
He thinks he is special, Jesus might be his son
The hand of God statement, just might be the one
That wipes out his achievements, and puts him under the gun
Head butts from players, hand ***** and bad plays
do we remember sucessess or is it failure that stays?
Is ithe team or the player or the fan who must pay
When they lessen their image that sets fans in a daze
Do we gloss over issues because a player is great
Or do we remember a player who reached legend by fate
Do we remember their battles when we chose to berate
Or do we respect how they acted and say "good on, mate"
All sports have heroes, and all sports have bums
But some are remembered for just flapping their gums
Remember a legend, is a player who comes
To the pitch as a player and makes the crowd hum.
 Jan 2014 petalsofhope
Rae Monroe
'Do not be afraid'
They said to him
For there is no greater pain
Than that of death

And afterwards
As he looked grim
They took turns in telling him
That he would improve

Cancer
They repeated in his ears
Cancer
His brain chanted

It is eating me alive

But, as he looked up
At the ceiling
Of a sterile, cold
Hospital room

He realized they were wrong

The pain of death
Would sooner turn to a pleasure
Compared to the turmoil
Of his disease

Cancer
Again and again
They whispered to him
Hushing him
Lulling him to sleep with their evil, evil sighs

He did not believe their lies

The next day
He left the hospital room
He sat on the bus
And sat for hours

Going wherever
Fate wanted to take him

Everyday he did this
Everyday he tried to live
In another person's shoes

The bus driver's
The woman across the street
The man in the window,
At the motel down the road

He lived like they did

Until finally,
He realized
He did not want to live
Any life but his own

He went back to the hospital
He fought
He ached
He scarred
He broke down
And he won

Live no life but yours
He said to me as I wrote
Write any lives you want,
He repeated,
But live only yours
 Jan 2014 petalsofhope
Emma Livry
Temptation came in sliding on his knees asking, “Will you dance with me?”

He didn't say “hello”, or “wow it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”. Just a simple question. He stayed on his knees waiting for an answer, but he didn’t get one quickly. After I stumbled on my words for what seemed like forever, I finally managed a yes.

The band just finished playing. The owners turned on a CD for people to waltz to, and the floor was already crowded with smiling couples and stumbling beginners.

“You are going to lead me the whole time, okay?” I asked him, but it was more of a demand. I remembered talking to him about this place and I knew he came here a lot. We had never danced together, but I had always wanted to dance with him.

“Do you even know how to waltz?” he asked.

“I do ballet. Of course I know how to waltz.” I managed to say with more confidence than I knew I had. The memories from last summer were unfurling inside my brain and I thought I was about to explode. I didn’t think I could manage another word but I surprise myself by asking how he was.

“Oh, I’m pretty good. I ship out in June. You can’t believe how much I want to leave this place,” he said. I tried looking into his eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He was holding his gaze directly on me, but when I tried looking into his eyes, I had to look away. After all this time, I forgot their color. He then said, “Loosen up, darling. You’re so tense.” he flipped our arms around and twirled me quite a bit and I was getting lost, but he is a very good leader. He was holding my hands firmly, yet it was still gentle and we ended up with our hands over our heads. “Bend backwards,” he instructed, so I did. He lowered me down into a dip and I finally looked directly into his eyes. How could I forget that they are exactly the same color as mine?

Our faces were only but three inches apart; about a year ago, we were at a place where those three inches wouldn’t even exist. He lingered there for only a second more before I broke our gaze and he decided to briskly raise me back up and continue the waltz.

“You are really tense; loosen up,” he said again. It made sense, I have a habit of holding my breath when faced with temptation, but he just continued smiling at me.

“Sorry, I’m used to holding myself all the time.”

He just looked around the room and then dipped me again and whispered in my ear, “I’ll hold you.”

I wanted to hit him. Did he forget what happened last summer? Because I did not. I flashed back to where we were. Sitting on the rocks next to the creek that leads into the larger river. He was playing his guitar and singing me the song he wrote for me. It was cliché, but at the time it was a sweet gesture. His voice was always angelic to me. From the first time I heard him sing until the last time, which ended up being this day.

When he finished singing the song, I couldn't find any words to say. I just sat there and then he leaned over and kissed me. This wasn't the first time he kissed me, but it was different from the first time. The first time was at church and was really short. This kiss was, well, not short at all.

He brought me back up to standing and whisked me across the floor. He kept leading me and twirling me and switching our arms around. The waltz still continued and so did our conversation. I looked up at him occasionally and he was still looking at me. Throughout the dance, we drifted closer and closer together. I didn't notice when it was happening, but in this moment I realized that there was almost no space between us.

“You know, I bet my boyfriend’s pretty mad,” I said. I looked over at him. He was sitting on a bench glaring in my general direction, so I turned around abruptly and then my dance partner got a peek at him.

He laughed at the fact that he was glaring at us and then leaned in even closer to tell me something through his smile, “My girlfriend is watching too, but them watching us just makes it more fun.”
 Jan 2014 petalsofhope
Nik Bland
May the many prayers of the ones you love
Push you towards the home you run to above
May the dawn grace your face and the memories stay
Your face remembered as the brightest of days

May tears grace the ground and flowers bloom in their place
May you always be remembered with a smile on your face
With each laugh that you brought, may they be blessings to you
As your loving Creator you finally come home to

Never fading and always learning
A dream amongst sleepers, a lesson worth learning
With wings of angels, in the sky may you roam
Till we meet again on our racing towards home
 Jan 2014 petalsofhope
annmarie
Once a writer falls in love with you,
you can't ever die—
we all know the saying.
But what happens, I wonder,
to those who fell in love
but never tried to preserve it
with paper and ink?
Was their love, I wonder,
not as real
as the love that all of us
have written down,
as if the feelings aren't official
until we find an artistic way
to express them in words?

So this one goes out to
all the athletes and the inventors,
to the photographers and the painters
and the musicians and the dancers—
to the encouragers, and the listeners,
and the readers—
to everyone who's ever been in love.
To anyone who's ever found themselves
feeling the same way inside as it feels
when you step into the sun
after spending far too long
in artificial lighting,
or when you feel the breeze again
after far too much air conditioning.

This one goes out to all of you.
To all of *us.

Because no matter how we choose
to express it,
we are the lovers,
and we can never die.
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