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Jared San Miguel  Dec 2014
Scary
Jared San Miguel Dec 2014
Life is scary. You know?

Not the kind of scary you get from horror movies or a haunted house.
Not the kind of scary like when you think you forgot your keys locked in the car.
Not the kind of scary like when you think one of your friends finally decided to leave this world for good.
Not the kind of scary that is sharp needle point followed by the release of realization.

No.
Life is not that kind of scary.

It's the kind of scary that follows you closely.
It's the kind of scary that shakes you awake at night just to let you stare back at its void.
It's the kind of scary that sits on your shoulder and taunts you for every waking second that it can take you when it pleases.
It's the kind of scary that pulls your blood from your arteries.
It's the kind of scary that revels in the sight of your tears.

It's the kind of scary that lingers, persists, torments, and never, ever leaves.
Cedric McClester Mar 2016
By: Cedric McClester

I took a journey in my mind
Back to another place and time
Now all I want is another line
Seeing is scary to the blind

Seeing is scary to the blind
Ya never know what you might find
Reality can be unkind
I feel the need to just unwind

The past and present gets confused
Just like the needles that I've used
My flesh was made to be abused
They say detox but I refuse

Seeing is scary to the blind
Ya never know what you might find
Reality can be unkind
I feel the need to just unwind

Now you might think that I'm insane
Cause I get off on my own pain
It's something deeper in the brain
A closer look and you might find
Seeing is scary to the blind
Seeing is scary to the blind

I feel the warmth of mother's womb
Or perhaps it's just impending doom
Could be the weight of my own tomb
So all that's left for me is gloom

Seeing is scary to the blind
Ya never know what you might find
Reality can be unkind
I feel the need to just unwind

Now you might think that I'm insane
Cause I get off on my own pain
It's something deeper in the brain
A closer look and you might find
Seeing is scary to the blind
Seeing is scary to the blind

Seeing is scary to the blind
Ya never know what you might find
Reality can be unkind
I feel the need to just unwind
Excuse me while I take a hit
Cause everyday I feel like ****
If I had sense maybe I'd quit
I  tell myself but still I find
Seeing is scary to the blind



Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.
ZACK GRAM Oct 9
Im Scary
Youre Scary
Shes Scary
Hes Scary
Theyre Scary
Were Scary
Everyones Scary

Everyones Scary

Till They Find Out
Only Gods Scary
So Fear Me
Dissapear
Mark Toney Oct 2019
~Dedicated to all victims of bullying, which include girls
& boys of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds.  (That includes me too.)~

Yvonne was very, very, very happy.
She loved her mother.
She loved her brother Phillip.
And she loved swans.
Oh, did she ever love swans!

She loved the way they looked
With their smooth, fluffy feathers,
And colorful beaks of orange, yellow and red.
She would watch them for hours
As they glided over water
In the pond at the park.

Her favorite thing was when two swans
Would get close, ever so close,
Head to head, forming a heart
With their beautiful, curved necks.

Her next favorite thing was
When baby swan cygnets
Would bunch together,
Closely following behind their mother.

She loved swans so much that she
Made a song about them.
Yvonne called it her Swan Song.

“Oh, lovely swan, as you swim in the pond,
Your baby cygnets play—I could watch them all day!
Whatever I do, when I think about you
I wonder if you think about me too!”

Yvonne sang her swan song
All the way to school in the morning
And all the way back home in the afternoon.

Yvonne loved school too.
She was a very good student.  
She studied hard for her tests.
Her grades were very good.
Her teachers were impressed.
Yvonne was helpful to her classmates.
And she was very, very, very happy.

One day a new kid showed up at school.
His name was Harry, and he seemed kinda cool.  
The teacher welcomed Harry to the class
And told everyone to be nice to him.
Harry was a little bigger than most of the kids.
And Harry didn’t smile.  He didn’t say a word.

Harry sat at the empty desk next to Yvonne.
Yvonne was excited about making a new friend.
“Hi, Harry.  I’m Yvonne.  Pleased to meet you.”
“Shut up!” Harry said.  “Leave me alone.”
Yvonne wondered why Harry was so mean.
In fact, he looked rather scary.
“Scary Harry” thought Yvonne.

Every day Yvonne and her friends would try to be nice to Harry.
Every day, Harry would be mean to them.
The only kids Harry liked were the bully kids,
The ones who were mean like Harry.
Harry was bigger and meaner.
Soon all the bullies were following him.

Every day they would pick on different kids.
One day they started picking on Yvonne.
Scary Harry taught his bully friends
An awful poem about Yvonne.  
They would shout it out when Yvonne came to school
And they would shout it out when she left for home too.

“Yvonne sang her swan song
She worked so hard all-day long.
When she came home she fell down
'Cause her legs didn’t have any bones!”

Yvonne was very hurt by their horrible, hateful poem,
And she would cry and run away as fast as she could.
Scary Harry and the bullies would laugh and laugh
And keep shouting it over again and again.

They also made up an awful poem
About Yvonne’s brother Phillip.

“Her brother’s name was Phillip.
He had such big wide hips.
When he tried to drink from a straw he couldn’t
'Cause his mouth didn’t have any lips!”

Yvonne was no longer very, very, very happy,
She felt fear, stress and sadness all the time.
Fear made her not want to go to school.
Sadness made her stop acting like her true self.

She no longer wanted to go to the park to see the swans.
Stress left her stomach in knots.
She found it hard to sleep.
What could she do?  
What would you do if this happened to you?

Yvonne did not want to be a tattletale,
But decided it would be best to tell her mother.
Yvonne told her everything.
About the new kid, Scary Harry, and the bully kids;
About them bullying her and her friends;
About the awful poems about her and Phillip;
About her fear of going to school;
About her sadness over not wanting to see the swans;
About the stress leaving her stomach in knots.
She told her mother everything,
And then she cried and cried and cried.

Her mother wept with her, and when the time was right she asked,
“What do you do when they bully you?”
“I start to cry and then run away” sobbed Yvonne.
“What do you WANT to do when they bully you?”
“I want to hit them hard and make them stop!”

With loving eyes, her mother replied
“Yvonne, I am so sorry for you.  But I know exactly what you should do.”
“Really?” Yvonne asked between sobs.
“Really!” responded her mother.  “Listen closely.”
Placing her hands gently on Yvonne’s shoulders,
Her mother kindly looked into Yvonne’s eyes and said:

“You can beat a bully without using your fists,
If you don’t react to their bullying.  
If you don’t react, the bullies will lose interest.
Don’t retaliate, or be mean to them,
Because that will only add to the problem.
Act confident, don’t be afraid.  
Bullies notice when you’re afraid.

Walk away, don’t run.  
It shows you have self-control,
Something the bullies don’t have.
Don’t walk to school alone.  
Walk with a friend.

Since bullies love secrecy, tell someone.  
Tell a teacher, just like you told me.
Even though you may feel like a tattletale,
You shouldn’t have to face it alone.”

Yvonne hugged her mother long and hard.
She was so happy she had finally told her mother.
“Let’s go to the park and see the swans” her mother said.
Yvonne, her mother and Phillip went, and had a wonderful time.
Yvonne felt like singing her swan song again,
So she sang it loud and strong
In the park by the pond and all the way home.

“Oh, lovely swan, as you swim in the pond
Your baby cygnets play—I could watch them all day!
Whatever I do, when I think about you
I wonder if you think about me too!”

The next day at school,
When scary Harry and the bully kids
Shouted the awful poems,
Yvonne remembered everything her mother had told her.
She even told her friends, so they would know what to do.
And she told her teacher too.

It didn’t take long before the bullying slowed down.
Scary Harry eventually stopped being as scary.
Yvonne was once again very, very, very happy.

She loved her mother more and more each day.
She loved her brother Phillip.
She loved her school too.
And she loved swans.
Oh, did she ever love swans!
4/24/2018 - Poetry form:  Narrative - This poem is dedicated to all victims of bullying, which include girls & boys of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds. (That includes me too.) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
CP Jun 2014
Vulnerability is scary
I guess that's why I'm always wary
In the palm of another's hand
I solemnly stand

Vulnerability is scary
Someone I know barely
They could *bury
me
In debris

I'm flesh and bones
Their words could be stones
The way you shake when you're crying
Or when you blink when you're lying
Because inside you know you're dying

When I tell you how I feel
I may begin to heal
This is so unreal-
Yet I still fear that you will squeal
What I tried so hard to conceal

Vulnerability is scary
I would like to say contrary,
I feel like a freed canary
How very wrong
I've made another prison
With bars made of vulnerability

My secrets have become a liability
For I foolishly trust
You will not run
When we are done

Vulnerability is so scary
Emily  Jan 2015
scary
Emily Jan 2015
it's a scary thing
to love someone more than you love yourself
to love someone more than you love anything

it's a scary thing
to need someone like you need oxygen
to need them so bad or else you'll suffocate

it's a scary thing
to want someone with every bone in your body
and you feel it in your muscles
you've come undone
you have to have them

it's a scary thing to devote every piece of yourself
and to commit every part of your life
to one person

you can't help it, though
that is love
love works that way
it's scary

it's scary because at any moment
things could change
and your whole world could come crashing down
your whole life will seem over
you will feel doomed
like you can never move on
you're suddenly out of breath
gasping for air
and that sickly feeling comes over you

i cannot live without you
please don't make me
it would be the end of me
more of just a stream of consciousness than anything else
L Oct 2014
The world kisses me
and begs me to be a man,
but I'm not gonna grow up
because I'm a work of art, Ma.

I'm a work of art.

I like hurting bad people
and I like hurting you.
I like hurting you,
but only because you ask me to.

No, Ma.
I don't wanna grow up
because I'm a poet,
a scary lover,
a miserable romantic.
I'm not gonna grow up, Ma.
Because I'm a work of art.

I'm a work of art.

The world kisses me
and begs me to stop.
The world kisses me,
but begs me to stop.

You can't blame me
for the death of your children
because I'm a child too,
because I was shot, too.

I'm a little boy.
I'm not gonna grow up.
I'm a work of art, Ma.

I'm a work of art!

Little girls
and scary worlds
make me a poet.
Little girls
and scary worlds
make me a monster.
Little girls
and scary worlds
make me a boy.

I'm not growing up
because I'm a work of art.
I'm not growing up
because I want to fall in love
with everything that breaks my heart.

The world kisses me
and begs me to be a man,
but I'm not gonna grow up
because Im a work of art, Ma.

I'm a work of art.

Little girls
and scary worlds
make me
a poet.

Little girls
and scary worlds
make me

a boy.
I'm not sure if I'm in love with a love story,
a man's poetry,
or the poet himself.
-
This is about a boy I will never see.
Ember Evanescent  Oct 2014
Terror
Ember Evanescent Oct 2014
She’s the type of scary that isn’t in horror movies or Halloween decorations, not the kind that makes you scream or want to run away but the silent sort that paralyzes you and makes you wish you had never, not just lived, but existed at all after witnessing that type of darkness. The kind that instills mind shattering dread in your soul and the desire to simply crumble inwards totally destroyed in a pile of dust so you may never feel again because nothing will ever fix what you saw and felt. The kind of scary that makes you properly comprehend the word’s meaning. I would be wrong, however, if I were to tell you she is the worst kind of scary because the word “worst” means it’s the furthest on the scale and this terror is not on the same scale as any other sort of scary. This broke the scale. This is beyond. This is its own kind of scary. On its own level, in its own dimension, under its own category,
this


....is true scary....

Please comment I'd love to hear any thoughts! This is a description of a free verse poem describing one of the characters I created.
Please comment I'd love to hear any thoughts! This is a description of a free verse poem describing one of the characters I created.
nadya s  Jul 2014
Scary Mary
nadya s Jul 2014
A little girl named Mary
Just wanted to play
But her mom locked her up
In a room everyday

She cried she starved
She wished she were outside
With all the other kids
She just wanted to run and hide

When her mom died so did she
She was left there to decay
While the little kids out side
Ran threw sprinklers and played

Mary came back to haunt the town
The little kids wouldnt dare make one little breath
For at night she would **** them
She would have revenge for her death

The little kids would tell stories
They called her scary mary
They made a song about her
They called it death fairy

"She's here its her 
Scary mary is in town
Don't open your eyes in the dark
Or dare to look around
She'll ****** you and claw
And take you away without a sound
She'll burn you and stab you
When no ones around
Scary mary is comin'
So whatcha gonna do
She'll eat you and **** you
You'd better run too 
For she's the death fairy
She's scary mary"
I found this and i love it so much

— The End —