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wakeupnirvana  Sep 2013
9pm woes.
wakeupnirvana Sep 2013
It's 9pm and here is me;
sitting on my bed,
asking why did I awoke?
to the singing voices of
last year's nightmare
from last year's trauma


It's 9pm and here is me;
thinking about again last year's
trauma, of when I felt the razors
kissing my skin with such feeling
I can never describe.


It's 9pm and here is me;
Overthinking what will be tomorrow woes?
and listening to the hush sound of silent's noise.
and then I sit there
replaying last year's sadness.
Oh dear lord, this is such a distress.


It's 9pm and here is me;
whispering a prayer to cradle myself to sleep
and thinks blessings, and thinks about hope
that somehow might eventually show,
and then I exhale for the depression to go
because I can't sleep when I worry about my woes.


It's 9pm already, and yes i know
for I tucked myself again to bed
and whispered "Please give me a rest."
for I need it now,
because i feel so weak,
and then here again I dream,
for not again the bad dreams
but the happy ones,
and now I sleep now,
with a smile on my face.


and yes, it is now 9am.*
I am awoke by the sun's beam by the window,
I raise my arms up as I blink and see thy shadow,
and then I pray and thank you,
and smiled
for God saved my poor soul,
and made me calm.
Here goes the birds flying by the window,
greeting by a tweet,
telling to never frown
for today's a new day,
why worry if you're going down?
*Based on my nightmares and the bullying i've been through
*Inspired by the poets that I follow on one blog site.
Gwen Pimentel Dec 2015
12mn: I was babaw. I made a "funny" joke. You didn't laugh. Usual. I made a funner joke. And this time, you laughed.

1am: I changed our chat emoji to a nose. You realized you were turning 17 in 23 hours. I asked you what you learned from this year, and you said "I hate people", and I wished you didn't hate me.

2am: I was asking you what picture I should tweet for your birthday. Why didn't we get a picture last night. You're laughing at me for wearing the huge *** NASA shirt you gave me. (Thank you a bunch for that.)

3am: I asked you how the Mcdo was. You said "good". My tummy grumbled.

4am: You asked me if I was up and honestly I wasn't – you just woke me up. But conversations at this hour are the best so why not? You sent me some songs. And my groggy self listened to them half asleep. You said 20 hours til you turn 17.

5am: Kuya Soy just left. I am sad. You said jmsn at this hour is great – and he is. You're now gonna try to sleep (**** it, just when I was awake). I asked you what time you were born so I could greet you on that time. But **** it was at 7 am, still, I set my alarm. Goodnight and goodbye, for the mean time.

6am: I write because you exist. Woah that dramatic effect though (just kidding). But really, I am awake, writing my greeting for you. I fell asleep with my notes open.

10am: I was still asleep, you messaged me in reply to "I write because you exist", you said same.

12nn: I just woke up and I just saw your message.

1pm: I followed you with my 2016 account. You followed me back.

2pm: You sent me a hugot quote about walking away or trying harder. I think I'm going for the try harder option. You never know how close you actually are to your goal, right? You said you're turning 17 in less than 12 hours.

3pm: Easy to talk to, hard to understand.

4pm: I learned that your mom's name is Nilda. Hi Tita pls like me half jk. Actually not jk.

5pm: You told me everyone was making 365 accounts. Actually, it's 366.

6pm: I told you I was sad about kinder eggs having genders. "idk lol ugh HAHAHA"

7pm: I asked you if you were okay, you said yes. (And I wished that you'd never lie to me whenever I ask if you're okay)

8pm: Some ungrateful btch be tweeting about not wanting to get food for Christmas. You say "BRUH FOOD IS ONE OF THE GOOD GIFTS MY *****", I laughed.

9pm: You made me listen to Jidenna (aheheh ahas) and I'm reminded of your great music taste.

11pm: You told me your family was fighting. This is your "worst christmas". I want so desperately to do anything to make you feel better, and I am trying to help you.

12mn: Still trying. I wanna hug you to absorb all your sadness.
hbd jm
Avery Glows Aug 2014
My mom sleeps early.
She isn't a night owl.
She lives in the day.
And everything around when
the sky is bright.
the streets are loud.
She leaves the house at 9pm. sharp
And went off in her snores.

My dad stays up late.
Until twelve.
And when the last 60 seconds
ended the day.
He'd turn off the TV
"Has been a long day"
he'd say.
Yawn.
And he'd go to bed.

And me.
I'm no bubbly girl.
or pretty.
cheesy blondy.
Maybe just a good nerd.
But I know the night.
And I love it.
1a.m. is free.
My private afternoon.
with cookies and tea.
And I'd turn on the lights.
Walk with my ankles light
off the ground.

Turtle hasn't sleep.
no he's like me!
He'd wiggle his tail and
swim
towards my face.
As if to say,
"heya buddie"
he should have eaten but
he knows.
he knows.
I feed my Turtle at
one
in the morning.
And he never says no.
Taylor  Jun 2014
2am
Taylor Jun 2014
2am
the early hours of the morning, when light has yet to show itself, and the streets are quiet.

2am is not for the happy people.

it is not for the lovers.

it is for the shadows that finally feel accepted.

it is for the poets, who are still up because their mind is filled with an unimaginable amount of words about someone they love.

it is for the broken-hearted who have been crying since 9pm.

it is for the people who love but are not loved.

it is for the one who finally feel like they can be whomever they want to be (or need to be) at 2am. and only 2am.
Dacia B Feb 2015
**** men, guys, dudes, boys... in fact anything that walks on two legs and has a ***** between those two legs, or any other kind of elongated genitalia for that matter.

**** the simple ones who guzzle beer and scream at other men in a small box

**** the sensitive ones who weep at the intensity of their emotions to you

**** that cool ones who speak in a language of esoteric band and brand names

**** the intellectual ones who have their opinions shoved  so far up their **** it bleeds out their mouth

**** the business types who's cool indifference is callous

**** the health-conscious gym-working-out ones who's 9pm bed time leaves you star gazing alone

**** the hippy ones who's lofty, hot air talk leaves you with a nasty feeling in your nose like you need to sneeze but it is stuck inside

**** the ones who are "different" but an trip on the bus is more entertaining than their recycled conversation

Last of all **** the decent, hard working, ones who have girlfriends that are non-flaky, pulled-together, skinny-organic-soy-latte-drinkers, only-wear-Karen-Walker, I-have-no-daddy-issues, law-majors

**** it all really
jersey  Feb 2021
Lover
jersey Feb 2021
A wise woman once said she’d like to be defined by the things she loved.
Not the things she hates or fears or the things that haunt her.
This idea very much stuck to me.

This is my attempt at defining myself by the things I love or the things I find love in.

I love the sound of ocean water hitting the shore.
I have never been more at peace than I am at a beach.
I can freely think, freely breathe.
I can just be free.
I think the ocean is love.

I find love in good morning and good night texts.
They may be meaningless to some,
a nuisance to others,
but to me it’s the purest form of endearment.
I can’t look at a good morning or good night text and not smile.
I think those texts are love.

I love and find love in music.
I would go through hell as long as at the end, there was a good song.
I love to sing my favorite songs at the top of my lungs
and can’t help but tap my finger to my least favorites.
I think music is love.

I love books.
Even with the worst books, I love the lessons they had to offer.
I love the time put into writing it.
I love the time I put into reading it.
I love starting to read a book at 9am and blinking to find out it’s now 9pm.
I think books are love.

It’s so easy to get wrapped up in what I hate,
even easier to get ******* in what I fear,
sometimes I forget love is a thing.
I don’t want to live like that.
I want to continue to love and find love in things.
I am a lover, not a fighter and some may hate that cliche
but you know what, I love it.

I think being a lover is love and that may be redundant but maybe, just maybe, I love that too.
Audrey  Jul 2014
Blue & Purple
Audrey Jul 2014
My room is quiet
Blue curtains block out the world that lurks just outside
Waiting to hurt me.
8 pm.
I know that purple dusk is gathering outside my walls
The same way the bruises in my heart threaten to eclipse the sun.
I'm scared.
I don't look at the veins showing under my skin because they
Remind me too much of the indigo, under-oxygenated blood
That spills too often from my arms,
Reminds me of my father's face purple with rage
When I told him I didn't think I was supposed to be
In this body, wear these clothes, be this gender.
9pm. Navy skies peppered with stars I will not see again
Purple pen writing apologies to my parents
Heart pumping indigo, under-oxygenated blood too fast,
Knows it doesn't have much time,
Can't breathe, face purple, face blue,
Can't breathe, dark vision, indigo stars,
Can't breathe.
Part of a group poetry piece

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