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 Sep 2013 jad
LJ Chaplin
I am not okay with the idea of seeing a doctor,
To be told how broken I am,
I am not okay with the thought of seeing a therapist,
Purging my mind to someone who is paid to give a ****,
I am not okay with the thought of swallowing pills,
Forcing myself to swallow each ounce of false happiness
To please everyone else,
I am not okay with people hiding my blades from me
As if I'll never realise that they're missing
Or that I'll suddenly forget the desire to cut away the pain,
I am not okay with people telling me this for my own good,
Because who could ever know what's good for me?
I am not okay with my family telling me they are proud one minute
Then telling me to give up the next,
I am not okay with having to smile through each day
While trying to battle back the oncoming stream of tears,
Teachers asking me if I'm managing at college
Because I "look a little under the weather",
I am not okay with having to eat food
To look normal
When all I want to do is throw it away,
But people pay attention too much.

I am not okay with another breath escaping my lungs,
Falling asleep knowing that my eyes will open the next day,
I am not okay with living,
But nobody will let me go,
And I want them to.
 Sep 2013 jad
sinderella
people tell me that i gain from pain
some kind of desire from torture
whether from bite marks
which make me bleed
or from a lover
that dominates
when in bed

part of me can't function
without some kind of release
that only pain seems to fulfill

i guess i have a masochistic personality
a need to feel what i can't usually

i struggled with self inflicted hurt too
when nothing else was available to me
created marks and scars to fill my heart
with increased satisfaction
i am the canvas
which is my art
my body tells
a thousand
little tales
of a girl
lost in
confusion

makes me feel so alive
the memories carved
and painted on
© sinderella.
 Sep 2013 jad
Taye
One
I wrote you a love letter
Hid it in your binder at recess
And prayed you'd never know it was from me.
It hurt when you called it silly.

Two
You're behind bars because of me
I don't feel guilty
Because you tried to take my innocence.

Three
You were the one I'd spend eternity with
When I was in 8th grade.

Four
I never thought I'd love a girl
You had soft hair and lips
But I always confused envy and lust.

Five
You didn't understand my metaphors
Or the things that interested me.
I just didn't understand why you did so many drugs.

Six
Please tell me you'd like to see me again
I had a beautiful night with you
And I'm a sucker for boys who write and play guitar.

Seven
You are so handsome and you are so dull.

Eight
I'll always want you
But the butterflies that used to flutter in my heart
Are now eating it apart.
 Sep 2013 jad
JP Goss
3 a.m.
 Sep 2013 jad
JP Goss
Why am I always bereft of the thing that I seek the most?
I always seek a willing soul
A soul who would entreat my own
And I the same
I, the slave of my nerves
A slave to the pulsations of my skin
The very thing I’ve always hated
I want hate
I want to hate myself
I want inspiration
That comes from the hate that flows
So freely from my finger tips
So beautiful a thing that passes by
So ignorant of what I could say
What I could appeal to
What drunken emotions accentuated
By the feelings of night
My pointless words
My sickened intellect
What I perceive as truth and the right way
I’m sorry to everyone
All those with the displeasure
Of hearing my obtuse
Faked heart, faked mind
I’m sorry
But I’m not authentic
I’m a replica
I’m not genuine
I’m a thing so pinioned around
The thought of ***
It clouds everything else
I want this false notion of love
I want a distraction
Something that keeps me away
From the emptiness of existence
I don’t want to face it alone
There has to be someone who thinks my skin worthy
There has to be an individual
I didn’t trick
Someone with
The very fantasy of love within them
Someone as foolish as me
With fake blood pulsating through their heart
Like me
Someone with the raw, acknowledged beat of lust
Flowing through those impermanent veins
Like the worthlessness
Extending from every extremity
Nothing is right
There is no light
Goodness has gone beyond me
Genuine Morality
Only the flame of passion
Ebbs in my matter
Not that story
Not that fantasy
Only a lie
One I can’t even abuse
Everyone is gone
I feel like life
Is but staring into a mirror:
Nothingness
Abstraction
Distance
Let this failure,
This over interpretation of a life
Die in the obscurity
Of the night Time
Good night all
Enjoy your lives
If only I could distract myself
From the awful reality
Like you
I want to be like you
Where life has meaning
Like action has sway
I am nothing
And never will be.
If only love could find me.
can you miss
what has never been
if youve never seen it
can you trust your feelings
can you risk
what could be everything
on a chance meeting
with potential eternity
can you stop questioning
whats right before you
because you cant believe it
can what you want ever be
until you accept what she sees
isnt what youre seeing
can of worms
 Sep 2013 jad
Carl Joseph Roberts
Whats Your Number

We all have a number
That we think that we must get
Where each poem that we write
Must get that many hits

We change our wording often
To try to get a perfect flow
In hope the readers understand
What we're needing them to know

Only when we meet our goal
Do we think our poem's right
For our readers have acknowledged
That our poem is now liked

So we check our numbers often
And we hope our poem trends
So that we can reach the goal we set
And a new poem can begin

We all have a number
That we think that we must get
If my poems touch only one
Then my number I have met

Whats your number

Carl Joseph Roberts
Written with the help of Poet KM and we went back several times. This is the version I ended with.
 Jul 2013 jad
Chuck
Decades of Truth
 Jul 2013 jad
Chuck
Childhood
Innocence

Teenage
Awareness

Twenties
Indestructibility

Thirti­es
Caution

Forties
Confidence

Fifties
?
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