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I'm a cloud of useless waste of particles.
I float freely, I fall slowly.
I'm a useless dust of chalk. Wasted.
What is my purpose?
After my knowledge?
After I have made my marks on the board?
What am I bound to do?
After I sit steady in the cold, dark place that I stain? That I ruin?

I'm a useless powdered material.
I stay stationary, I move slightly.
I'm a useless left over matter of chalk. Unimportant.
No appreciation for my knowledge.
No notice for my wisdom.
Is my purpose to be unseen?
Is my purpose to irritate eyes and wreck souls?

I'm a chalk dust in a dark, cold corner...
Soliloquy is my game.
What I play. every time. everyday
Intentionally left behind,
By my knowledge, my wisdom, my faith, my truth.
I'm now
A Nobody.

I vanish, and I flourish and I fly.
I'm a chalk dust with no purpose.
And so, the soul had fled the existing body.
And in the end, I see...
My useless soul, my life...
Under appreciated


** jnldm
first timer. pardon the emotional poem. this was actually for my lit. class and  my lit. teacher told me to hang here and post some of ze works. hahaha... lol bye. nvr mnd this note. it's so useless lol. -jnldm
They said high school was a home of learning
Oh I learned alright
They said it would construct my future
All it did was destroy me with the past
They said it would be safe
They have no defense over the demons
They said it would develop me as a person
But I remain who I was... only shattered

They said so many things, yet understood so little

This goes to the pillow-clutchers
to the broken who carry soaked and salty handkerchiefs
to the flesh that thrive for streaks of red dripping out
to the souls that are constantly bombarded by screeches of lies
Lies that overrun every beauty in and out
Lies that lead to masochistic actions
Waiting for the second heartbeat after every punch
Hoping this would free the monsters trapped within
This goes to the insecure
No, we are not emo
How can one contain our being in just three letters?
We are not superficial pain lovers
We are violated, dispirited, downhearted, beaten, unsettled, splintered, forgotten
But we will never be merely emo

A high school is not filled with students
It is filled with labels, rumors, divisions and fake personas
filled with eyes that look straight into your soul
filled with whispers that spread like a virus
Getting worse and worse after every ear it has jumped into
Savages looking for the flaw that can destroy you
Until you break and mindlessly follow their example

High school is where you lose who you are
And be who everyone else wants you to be


Everyone thought I was just being vain
Always staring at the mirror, trying to be cute
Never did it come into their minds that I was already believing the lies
ready to accept the rumors
using FINE as my own maxim
**** I'm Never Enough
But I waited
Waited for someone to drive out the beasts
to heal my scars
to fill my emptiness
Yet until now I remain drenched in loneliness and fear

High school is worse than hell
A quick and small crack in your soul hurts more
Than an eternal burn of your flesh
This is why we're ready to see the light come out of our eyes
But I'm holding on
For you need pain before you're declared strong
For you need darkness before you see the stars
For you need death before you reach heaven
For where there are angels,
*there will always be demons
Extremely personal poem. Forgive the length. - a.b.
Last night I prayed
Softly, peacefully, and still,
No strain, no grief, no disbelief,
No doubting of His will,

Last night I prayed
Softly for His strength,
Since I am weak.

Then with peace-of-mind
Worries and stress left behind
I quietly fell asleep.
 Nov 2013 rommelgto
Emma Matson
You're standing in the rain
it's 4 am and the wine you drank
is still dancing in your blood,
the cigarette smoke still lingers in your hair,
and lipstick is smudged on your skin.

Where you are is unknown
the streets are thick with puddles
and all the people have wandered off to bed
but you didn't.

Because going home meant being alone
and you hate lying in a bed
with cold sheets
with  no one to hold.

You hate waking up without someones fingertips
tracing your lips
or combing your hair.

You hate standing in your kitchen
looking out your small ***** window
wondering where the person who was made to love you
disappeared to.

So you stay out
just to feel less lonely.
Even if the only company you have are a few scattered raindrops
and the faint glow of street lamps at 4 am.
 Oct 2013 rommelgto
raðljóst
i guess you were sick of shooting the moon
because all you did was miss, and you never cared about the stars.
you said you needed solid ground to hold onto.
and now i know i'll only be your earthquake;
no solid footing here.
 Oct 2013 rommelgto
Broken Lights
The sun.
Emitting light.
The right amount,
Not enough to blind.
But enough to see,
What was hidden
In the dark.
The truth.

The earth.
Revolving the sun.
Moving farther away,
Moving closer together.
Never far enough
To be free of it's pull.
Never close enough,
To be burned by it's heat.

The moon.
Revolving the earth.
Showing the light,
In times of darkness.
Pulling it towards
The right direction.
A symbol of beauty,
for all the world to see.

The sun,
My light.

The moon,
My guide.

The earth,
My world.

My light, my guide, my world,
My universe.
But the universe has flaws.
Mine has only one.

It has too much space.
 Oct 2013 rommelgto
Broken Lights
Why can't you see it?
Why is it that you can't see the truth?
Is it because you don't know?
Or are you blinded by lies?

I wish I could make you see
What an amazing being you are
One that isn't just a random collection
Of billions upon billions of particles

I wish I had enough heart
To pour into this poem
To tell you how fantastic you are
To show you that you aren't what you say you are

I've tried numerous times
To try and move the right words
In the right positions, in the right order
But I can never find the right combination

Maybe because it can't be done
At least not by me
I am not the right person for this
If I was, I will try to my last breath.

I will try to find the right words
The right adjectives, the right nouns, the right verbs
The right order, the right length, the right sound
Trying to make a poem just as beautiful as you are

It may never finish
It may never begin
Because you cannot simply be defined
By just a few words

Not even a few hundred
Not even a few thousand
Not even a few million
Because there is always more about you

Because I don't want that poem to end
I don't like endings
Some things were never meant to be finished
Especially not you

But right now, I must go.
So I'll just say one word that I hope will be enough for you
Enough to last my eternal task to find the right combination.
Unforgettable.
 Oct 2013 rommelgto
thea
waiting
 Oct 2013 rommelgto
thea
Every night,
I read your poems
I read the honest thoughts of your mind
and every night,
I'm still wishing that I was the girl
behind the hidden times that you smile
the girl that makes you want to live
the girl that you hope for
the girl you wish for
and even though you don't believe in God,
I want to be the one that you'll pray for
the girl who can stop your nightmares
and turn them into dreams

I see the way you look at her
like she's one of the rare heavenly bodies
found in the infinite sky
and I'm just another lone galaxy
my elliptical indifference
spiral lies and mistakes
are reflected across the vastness of the void
and sometimes it feels like
I am the sun
and you are the moon
and we are cursed that the sun and the moon
will never collide
because you are too far caught up,
amazed by the stars
amazed by how she seems to shine and twinkle
across the darkness
and you don't care because you never notice
that my shoulders are near to breaking
from staying straight too long
every time I let you climb up on them
so you can try to reach her
but can't
the same way she doesn't care
that you write poems for her
and that you cast her as the princess
in your stories
I want to be the princess
in your stories

But everyday,
I am forced to fade into the background
because life has decided
that I am too broken
to be anyone's princess

Every night, I get pricked from the sharp points of the stars
when I collect them and try to weave them into a blanket
to drape over your body
to protect you
from the whispers and the screams
the truth and the lies
the fallen hopes and the cries
make you look at me
the way you look at her

but I still see you wishing
that it was her that you were hugging
and I am back into hiding
into that space where the superheroes have discarded their trash
the place for the people they've decided
are hopeless
the ones who still need saving
but are too convinced
that they've reached their end

I am the girl
that you share the deepest thoughts of your mind with
the thoughts that were lodged
into the small cracks
along the sidewalk of your secrets
You tell me the phrases
the rhymes and the metaphors
that no one else could decode
but she is still the concept
she is still the idea that comes up in your mind
when you think of writing something new,
writing something beautiful
And again,
I am just here
still the only girl
who can truly understand your poems
but never the girl inside them
Only the pretty ones can become princesses? Confirmed.
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