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Sydney Forma Jul 2014
What would you do,
if it all came back to you?

Hide everything in the
vacant slots of your mind

Leave it behind in a memory
of a friend you thought you knew

Or look back at the mess
and try to put it all together

To make sense out of
something that was real

Or was til it became a figment
of the past

Now, the question is irrelevant,
simply part of a prologue
to an even bigger body of literature
In my first year of high school I began the year off with three of my closest friends from elementary school,
we experienced and did everything together and trusted each other with anything  
Over the years our friendships begin to fallout
through rumors, gossip, betrayal
from people who I believed I could confide in
I still shame myself for having a part in the lying, I'm reminded of it everyday even though I've tried to suppress it, my depression towards the matter didn't help either
Each year I began feeling differently towards the situation, I could either let it sit inside my head and let it eat away at me
or move on
With new relationships and being able to finally let people in again, I've realized what real friends are and how much better it is when someone is actually there for you because they genuinely value your friendship
This is my first poetry piece on here and although I've never been as good a writer as my sisters or some of my friends and a lot of my thoughts don't seem to make any sense when put together,
everyone has a right to express how they feel...
Like it, hate it, believe in it, don't, I'm in no position to judge and I won't
I just wanted to share a small summary of my past to whomever may actually care about it
So if you're still reading this, thanks
Sydney Forma Jul 2014
Why
do you keep coming around
knowing I won't change?
Why tell me you love me
when you know I
can’t
love? I always tell you go,
but you stay. I tell you
we
can’t be together, that I
ruin things. And still, you’re
here. I can’t love you, I only
give love
away. To people who
couldn't care less about me...
Just give me a reason to love.
One
reason not to give up
on it, on us. Please stop, I
don’t want any-
more
of this. I just can’t love you. I
don’t think I ever will love you
the way you love me. But… I
could try. I mean, we all deserve a
chance.
Had to clean my room today and I found something I'd written back in gr9.. I was a lot sappier back in the day
Sydney Forma Sep 2014
This is it, the way I've been waiting to feel since this year began. It's that kind of feeling you get close to the end of a really long, unforgettable movie, when you know everything's coming to a complete finish. The feeling is bitter and anxiety filled, but I have no real term to describe what this is. After it all, prom, graduation, summer break, I thought I would feel it, I believed I would, but now I wish I had just shut my senseless ******* mouth.. I want it all to go back to the way it was before.. I just need time to soak it all in
I need more time..
I had time..
My final and most emotionally unbearable year of high school, gr12
Sydney Forma Aug 2014
I have no idea
what I feel anymore
I don't understand why
I seem to be the way I am

I no longer can
tell what emotion is
even if I could feel any, and
none of it cares to make sense  

I want to be near
other people and feel as
they feel for myself, to know I
still can and connect with them

But I'm constantly feeling
disconnected from myself and
regardless of what happens to me
I'll always feel as though myself is slowly
pulling away
Idk man
Sydney Forma Aug 2014
In me I carry burden, regret,
and guilt from memories that
were planted in my mind a long
time ago and now seem hard to
forget.
They've grown roots which
attach to my nerves. Each move
I make I remind myself of what
I've done. Like a constant itch.
With passing days, and no
resolution to this madness the
roots begin to latch on tighter.
The plant grows stronger this
way.  
Eventually, sanity will slip
completely leaving only the
plant to control what's left
of my vacant human shell.
Sydney Forma Jul 2014
Parents shield young child eyes
As elders clutch their beating chests
These people look at us and think
"Punks"
"Burn-outs"
"Delinquents"
"Youths"

"Always causing trouble where ever
they go"
I'm not a bad kid, honestly,
I'm just playing your part
When I'm with my girls, we're always trouble

— The End —