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I spent my life
trying to please my family

It didn't work

I spent my life trying to
Please others


I spent my life......
Be yourself
 Apr 2015 Sydney Marie
lily
your hands running through my hair
your hands tracing patterns on my skin
your hands cupping my jaw
your hands curled over my hip
your hands sliding over my bare back
your hands gripping my nape
your hands caressing my face
your hands pinning my arms above my head
your hands under my shirt
your hands roaming restlessly, possessively, and tenderly.
 Apr 2015 Sydney Marie
UK Sidd
Staring at my steering wheel when our song came on
Sitting in traffic backed up on Lake Shore
Backed up like the blood in my veins
Cause my heart hasn't had a beat since you left
The only thing getting through are thoughts of you
Sitting bumper to bumper inside my mind
The road paved with good intentions and broken promises
The words I wanna speak
Sit single file at the tip of my tongue
Waiting to take their exit
I finally start moving
And just when I pick up speed
I pass by where we first kissed
I collide with the reality
That I'm stuck in place
The world may keep spinning
But I'm not going anywhere
This is a rough draft
 Apr 2015 Sydney Marie
Sydney Ann
Day 2 to no prevail
with infinite available
my thoughts are, going
Idle              
No pressure , Zero gravity
Speaking my mind
In freaking rhymes

I'm bored
Can't even call
up a chord

It's dire,  yet today
I'm impossibly smiling

but I'm afraid
this can only work once
Why?            
the same                                
Dang                            
thing                        
Comes out      
Every time

Bored                      
My train of thoughts
looks like graphite
trains are _  I don't
Know

(The following was written in the margins)
So now I'm
going Sideways
my life is sideways
but no one ever got
anywhere
cool
by
walking
**forward
I found this in my Creative Writing class notebook. I tried to type it up exactly how it was on the page so ^ there it is ;)
 Apr 2015 Sydney Marie
Laura Ann
Pretty, skinny, smart, kind,
How many people see through my lies.
Maybe that's then reason I want to burn with him,
I'm part devil, part bad girl, that's just who I am.
You say "What's a good girl like you, doing with someone like him?"
Maybe that's why I hate you, maybe that's why I sin.
Do not judge him by the way his skin is his canvas,
Do not judge him by the metal piercing through his lips.
Know that the words he whispers into the dead of night,
The fears he keeps hidden, away from your sight,
And the stunning eyes that showcase what he's seen,
That's who he is, reflected in pools of green.
So why don't you judge me the way you judge him?
Because I'm pretty? Or skinny? Or have unmarked skin?
Don't you realize the outside covers the person within?
 Apr 2015 Sydney Marie
Stu Harley
cold rain
why are
your hands
still
made of stone
 Apr 2015 Sydney Marie
degzvdg
I will go now.
I won't be far.
I will always be at your side.
I wish you the greatest grace.

I will go now.
Light the fire in your heart once more.
So when darkness approaches,
The light of your love is the guide
to this excruciating life.

I will go now.
Don't mind me.
But here is a heart that longs for you.
You are the greatest faith that I had.

I will go now.
I'll leave you be.
Be still, my love.
Your name will always be the harmony to my ears.

I love you.
Farewell.
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
You count me down
1 night to make peace but, the
2 of us can make the world stop
3 nights and you must leave on day
4 before the sun
5 reasons I need you to stay
6 because I might just love you
7 different ways to do the wrong things and
8 ways to say it
9 without six means you're mine
10 fingers as I hold your hand for the last time
For the author of "You count me up"
Sawyer Westerfield. Your art does things even if you can't see.
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