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River Elise Nov 2010
Theres a symphony of muted strings collecting in her soul, and
the sunset deep inside her is an influential glow.
A downtown ballerina with her unborn daughter's face who
lives life inside her boyfriend's arms cos thats her favorite place.
The creativity inside her stirs up all that's gone away, so
she aches for them  to love her and it brings her down to pray.
One day she'll rise above the stars and let go all her pain.
Angels always show they're hurt by flooding us with rain.
Ellyn k Thaiden Apr 2014
Bigender
Pansexual
Asexual
Gay
Lesbian
Cisgender
Transgender
Agen­der

And many more
Labels racing through
My head
I can't even think straight
Or let alone be straight

I once thought pansexual
But I don't prefer physical interaction
Maybe bisexual?
But I like anyone and
Everyone

Asexual?
I've gotten off
I just don't prefer to
Shutting myself off
Is something I can do

Female and male stereo types
But I fit neither one
Sometimes I'm more of a man
Than my brothers could ever be
And sometimes I am more girly

All these labels
And I'm so confused
Does anyone really know?
Maybe I don't fit
Any labels

Maybe I'm just
Me
sara May 2014
by a crackling fire
with an untuned guitar
as the sun makes its way to its bed

just a few friends
and a bottle of drink
as we discuss all the signs we misread

the uncertain future
regrets of the past
we ask how the world keeps on spinning

from friends to lovers
and lovers to strangers
we're desperate for our new beginnings

so we stop all the talking
and find a way out
you pick up a guitar and you strum

we sing and clap
and knock our drinks back
as our minds begin coming undone
had one of the best days with two of my favourite people yesterday and desperately needed to write something about it
AnActualToaster Aug 2014
The dullest blade,
But the sharpest cut
The dumbest reason,
But it's all I've got.
I realized today,
I'm no one to you
I hid it for a while,
But what else was I to do?
I thought I could stop,
I thought that you'd help me
But they mean more to you,
That much is true..
I'm alone again,
Without a friend
Or a place here in this world,
The dullest blade,
But the sharpest cut..
Temptations have me made.
Genderfluid
I am a boy, at least to everyone but me,
I am gay, and straight too, and both, and neither,
I do not want attention, I even try to avoid,
But you call me a he,
But I am changing, every day,
I cry when you know I am not so,
I am a girl today...I am straight
You don't notice, or care,
You just put more cuts on my wrist,
And hurt me more with every word...
"Fag," you call with ease, But you do not know, I am a girl today
"Slut," you say... I am a virgin
Death my mind calls with every single word...
But you do not care, for you smile at my pain, as I call for my love,
"Jack..."
Me and Jack aren't together anymore...
Hail! generous youth, whom glory’s sacred flame
Inspires, and animates to deeds of fame;
Who feel the noble wish before you die
To raise the finger of each passer-by:
Hail! may a future age admiring view
A Falkland or a Clarendon in you.
But as your blood with dangerous passion boils,
Beware! and fly from Venus’ silken toils:
Ah! let the head protect the weaker heart,
And Wisdom’s ægis turn on Beauty’s dart.

     *       *       *       *       *

But if ’tis fix’d that every lord must pair,
And you and Newstead must not want an heir,
Lose not your pains, and scour the country round,
To find a treasure that can ne’er be found!
No! take the first the town or court affords,
Trick’d out to stock a market for the lords;
By chance perhaps your luckier choice may fall
On one, though wicked, not the worst of all:

     *       *       *       *       *

One though perhaps as any Maxwell free,
Yet scarce a copy, Claribel, of thee;
Not very ugly, and not very old,
A little pert indeed, but not a scold;
One that, in short, may help to lead a life
Not farther much from comfort than from strife;
And when she dies, and disappoints your fears,
Shall leave some joys for your declining years.

But, as your early youth some time allows,
Nor custom yet demands you for a spouse,
Some hours of freedom may remain as yet,
For one who laughs alike at love and debt:
Then, why in haste? put off the evil day,
And snatch at youthful comforts while you may!
Pause! nor so soon the various bliss forego
That single souls, and such alone, can know:
Ah! why too early careless life resign,
Your morning slumber, and your evening wine;
Your loved companion, and his easy talk;
Your Muse, invoked in every peaceful walk?
What! can no more your scenes paternal please,
Scenes sacred long to wise, unmated ease?
The prospect lengthen’d o’er the distant down,
Lakes, meadows, rising woods, and all your own?
What! shall your Newstead, shall your cloister’d bowers,
The high o’erhanging arch and trembling towers!
Shall these, profaned with folly or with strife,
An ever fond, or ever angry wife!
Shall these no more confess a manly sway,
But changeful woman’s changing whims obey?
Who may, perhaps, as varying humour calls,
Contract your cloisters and o’erthrow your walls;
Let Repton loose o’er all the ancient ground,
Change round to square, and square convert to round;
Root up the elms’ and yews’ too solemn gloom,
And fill with shrubberies gay and green their room;
Roll down the terrace to a gay parterre,
Where gravel’d walks and flowers alternate glare;
And quite transform, in every point complete,
Your Gothic abbey to a country seat.

Forget the fair one, and your fate delay;
If not avert, at least defer the day,
When you beneath the female yoke shall bend,
And lose your wit, your temper, and your friend.
AUTUMN is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.
The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us patt, ere the season of passion forget us,
With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.
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