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677 · Jan 2017
friend
M Jan 2017
You've never been a good friend,
But what do I expect
You to care about my every woe
And not leave me in neglect?

It's not like you're my mother;
You shouldn't have to keep me whole,
But you set me up again and again
And with my feelings you will bowl.

I just want you to be happy;
That's all I care about.
It doesn't matter that I cry alone,
If your heart still beats loud.

So I will drag myself through the day;
'round my stomach, my arms wrapped tight.
You don't see my insecurities
Or tell me it's alright.

I no longer feel my soul;
I've given it to you.
I tell you that you're beautiful,
And you say "Thanks you too".

I can't bare the thought that you are sad
Or hurting deep inside.
I want you to be happy
to enjoy all of life.

I repeat my words of praise,
so you know that you are loved,
But I don't recognize the words I say;
My voice sounds much too rough.

People tell me I don't look so good.
Have I been getting any sleep?
I don't know how to tell them
That I no longer eat.

I just don't have the energy
to lift a fork up to my mouth.
What If I need to say I love you?
I cannot miss my rounds.

I'm slipping slipping slipping.
Are my eyes open or shut?
Did I tell you are smart?
Have I complimented you enough?

I don't do it because I have to,
I just know it should be said;
How much I appreciate you,
How much I'm glad that you're not dead.

You're all the emotions I have left:
Love and lust and pain.
I can tell you don't care if I'm there;
You have nothing left to gain.

But I don't mind,
Why don't I mind?
My light has fizzled out.
I should mind,
I should try,
To be cared about.

I know that it is pointless
Because there's nothing left to love,
But when I see a certain someone
I feel he was sent here from above.

Yet I could never tell you this
Because you loved him first,
And it will never be the same
You'd say "i guess he could do worse".

I'm not a decent person.
I am not very "nice".
I slice open my skin,
And put mascara on my eyes.

No one asks if I'm okay;
I don't think that they see.
That you're friendship drained all I had
And left a mess of me.
                                                          -M
M Mar 2018
Com·mu·ni·ty
/kə'myoonədē/
noun
1. A group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.
synonyms: group, body, clique, faction

How do you define your community? Does it fit this definition?

My roots run deep in this town.
We have been here too long, yet not long enough.
We all grew up here and everyone knows everyone, but I do not know my neighbors name.
I think that is the problem with this day and age.
The word community has taken on a new meaning.
It tastes sour in our mouths when we say it because it is lost all sense of direction.
We say we seek community, yet it is in small groups, of those we deem worthy and fitting.
We let the homeless and the jobless slip through the cracks.
A tiny town filled with tiny lives.
Lives that are only important to ourselves, yet that is enough.
No one cares about anyone who does not benefit our own importance.
We are a broken people, a fractured community of lost souls searching for individual places in a too small world.  
We feel infinite, but our names have already been forgotten.
Despite our brokenness, our ripped and damaged edges, we are beautiful.
-M
an answer to an application question.
276 · Mar 2018
Gone with the Rain
M Mar 2018
The girl was walking in the center of the sidewalk with her head up and the few drops of rain falling on her face
Letting the motion of the wind and the leaves carry her forward
Her Dark eyes were so fixed to the world that no move escaped them
A kind of gentle hunger that touched over everything with a tireless curiosity
She whispered
I love to watch people too much
No one has any time for anyone else
Sometimes I ride the subway all day and look at them
I just want to figure out who they are and what they want and where they’re going
They say I’m antisocial but it all depends on what you mean by social, doesn’t it?
I don’t think it’s social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk
They run us so ragged that by the end of the day we can’t do anything
Everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another
People don’t talk about anything
Isn’t that funny and sad?
They make me say things; they want to know what I do with my time
And sometimes, I tell them, I like to put my head back, like this, and let the rain fall in my mouth
The rain was thinning away
And then Clarisse was gone
Everything was empty
It was something about not seeing her in the world.
-M
Found Poetry from the novel Fahrenheit 451.
176 · Feb 2018
breathe
M Feb 2018
Our chests rise and fall
with the sweet burn of cold
Hope fills our lungs
We are so young, so naive

The pain is too much for us all
Breaking beneath an invisible weight
What hope do we have now
How can we breathe

How can there be oxygen amongst so much cruelty
How is there room
Where does it go when all the space is filled up with
screaming

and we are all screaming out, all of the time
Tortured souls trying
to find the hope; trying
to find the will

                                                               ­                                  to continue on.
                                                          
                                                            -M

— The End —