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luapharas Mar 2016
I find social networking distorted communication
you hardly see face to face conversations
just excessive clicking on keyboards
n’ anxious minds waiting for replies
no one takes the time to enjoy the company who is present
I can’t decipher true emotions through all this commotion of texts, and private messages.
talking to people who aren’t in the same location is vague
The internet is an addiction widespread like a pelage
my frustration with corrupted socializing starts with facebook
Never again will I sign up for any false friendship making world wide web connections
I give you no other choice.
use your voice,
to say what you need to say,
use your hands,
to paint what you need to convey
use your legs,
to sway your own way
What worries me the most, is its not only teenagers,
adults are getting ****** in too.
TRY logging off, being disconnected is relieving  
I’m notified about the **** that matters when it happens
can count the number of sincere friends I have on one hand
I don’t understand how some people  can spend hours surfing through a news feed filled with constant updates from others.
It took me two years to realize I was wasting my time posting about my journey through existence to people who don’t give a ****
What really make me insane is those people who post every **** detail of their life, as if trying to write an autobiography of ALL their vacations, foods, relations, moods
These posts of so called “picture perfect” lives is none of my business
So instead of sitting in front of a dimly lit screen trying to save battery power, I charge myself up and play this funny game called life
I spend parts of my day with my best friend mary jane
I might even bury my face into a book, which is highly doubtful
but more likely than me posting on social media about what I’m doing at this moment in time.
Now first impressions come from profile pictures,
and number of likes you get on a status.
Think next time you post something personal
cause thats being stashed in cyberspace, not knowing where its stored
posting when you're bored, about how you scored at a party last night
in spite that its your best friends girlfriend,
but you were to drunk to remember.
Even worse sharing photos of underage drinking
not even thinking about who can see the evidence
of your stupidity, not lucidly taking in your actions
but you look at the fraction 9 out of 300 facebook "friends"
liked your status, thinking you've got a stratus
letting it ruin your day,
bruin about how a girl with half her clothes on has
700 likes n’ 5,000 comments from pigs,
because thats what social media is
a popularity contest, with the best updates
sluttiest photos, and juicy drama
log off
doff the social content through technology completely
its easy.
brace yourself,
have to talk to my face
not through the space of miles, through your screen
I'm not an ordinary teen, just wanting to be seen for who I am
not my online profile
which you won't find because
I don't tell facebook what’s on my mind
tweet about what I eat
  instagram my outfit of the day
I am what you see, plus my poetry
my distinctive personality isn't shared
through an internet related source
This isn’t out of force, my own choice in which I rejoice in the fact that I no longer waste my precious time reading about everybody else’s life,
and just living mine
thus giving me more of a voice, rather thinking I need to type everything in my head
instead, I speak my mind aloud for everyone to hear,
bolder than my outfit, shoes, and my hair.
I do this without shedding a tear
you'd realize if you stepped back
you lack the strength
to go a length of time
its not a crime,
its time
to log off.
Corona Harris Mar 2016
Punk, Hoodlum, Delinquent,
I'm the one who's the heathen
While your the one who's deceiving
Never asked for help finding an identity
I don't need something to believe in
Maybe some answers on why I'm still breathing
Nobody to trust, even Pastors slither when preaching
Rebel, Insurgent, Agitator
Obtained the belief "The Man" can't shape me
I'm not as easy as some of my peers
I won't just let you mentally **** me
That's why teachers,police and parents
All corrupted officials hate me
I'm not tied to religion
So not even your crucifix can break me
Indigo, ******, Alien**
This puzzle piece too deviant to fit in your society
My blood too filled with Bohemian pride you see
I fell to this planet when our stars collided
It was depressing to find so many people divided
So I'm fixing my shuttle to travel back to Planet X
No I won't listen to your mixtapes on the way
If its just a ballad on guns, thoties and ***
Money and drugs aren't moral values they're demerits
Peace, Knowledge and Love what we all must inherit
LatteQueen Mar 2016
and she talks to her friends once a month
if that
if she has them
if she can find the words
Even with the quiet ones
I'm the quiet girl
The antisocial one
But it's not all my fault
I can't help I feel unwanted
And left out
I get tired of forcing my way inside
I just want to be included
Even if I don't always say much
I don't mind just being with you guys
When you make me feel like I'm not a ghost
But tonight
I'm a ghost
Translucent
Im not a social person
But I don't want to be lonely
Even with everyone here
I don't feel like I'm someone
I'm see through
GaryFairy Feb 2016
on the other side of the mountain
where the winds are whispering
how i dream to be surrounded
by the mist of mystery

on the other side of the mountain
the water flows so shimmering
how I dream to be un-counted
sitting in the glimmering
Ellie Martin Jan 2016
it's funny how much my anxiety
causes fear for my life
but then
gives me so many reasons
to end it all.
life with anxiety.
Peter Roads Dec 2015
A closed door is a simple premise
and you should know
That when I do this I'm not being rude
I just need my room to be empty.
If you do decide to knock
Please have something more poignant
Than seeking reassurance that I like you
Or to ask me if I want food
I know that I forget sometimes
And I'm six foot two of bones
Right now I just want to be alone
I'm not swinging from a rope in here
I have rope yes, but no rafters
So respect the distance, act as
if the door doesn't open.
I'm not unhappy, my opus
demands solitude, my beating chest
Is uncomfortable with guests.
Your intentions an unwanted anchor
sinking the sofa I'm sailing
to nowhere special
in my own good time.
I'm not being crude,
But I swear I might be ****
******* to pirate ****
or watching Pokemon
These are things I do
and I don't need you for them.
If you must come in, don't hover
like a beast without thumbs,
at the edge of my awareness,
I can hear your footsteps wanting
to talk, please just keep walking.
I mean I DO like you,
probably,
but understand that I don't need
to say goodbye and hello,
to stand at the door and watch you go,
The demands for connection
undermine my withdrawal.
I don't need help,
to be dragged with the herd
I'm an introvert and I like,
unobserved, quietly judging you
without needing to actually be at the party.
Contrary evidence might suggest
That you're welcome
Because I invited you here
Or promised you dinner,
you can stand to be one meal thinner
Because the door is closed;
I'll see you when I come out
And I'll come out when I'm ready
Charlotte Huston Dec 2015
In the darkest of our valleys
    By dark angels demented,
‘Twas once a regal temple -
    Serene spring - tauntingly tormented.
A Queen in her Domain,
    It stood there!
Under Lock and Chain;
    A maiden so fair!


Lavender curtains laden;
    On this Temple may flow
Along the Times of this Maiden -
    In the ****** snow.
And every gentle air in that field,
    Of Doomsday,
From the Black Rose’s shield -
    Their aroma passed away.


Witnessing this Ominous blolly;
    Through luminous windows -
Spirits sing in melancholy,
    In the malicious meadows.
Upon this throne I bore;
    A tintinnabulation of air -
Befitting glory’s chore,
    Of this realm’s affair.


With many a jewel gleaming,
    Against the Temple door -
The River’s light came beaming,
    Sparkling for evermore.
A troop of Angels; on their duty,
    At my doorbell, sing -
For the Silent beauty,
    Who burdens the King.


Then, the Reaper came,
    Along the Temple’s River -
For the distressed dame;
    And the sorrows within her quiver.
Above this temple of glory,
    Sagacious scenes bloomed -
Of the maiden’s story,
    The clergy that loomed.


Now; Within that valley -
    Through the reddened windows see,
Figures dancing delicately;
    To her disbanded melody.
The river - now a pale white,
    Is her decor,
Night’s sweetest silent fright -
    And flows - Nevermore.
This is based on "The Haunted Palace" by Edgar Allan Poe, although Poe told the story of a king who eventually met his demise, his castle eventually becoming haunted by the phantoms of his family.

Instead, I told the story of a woman who locked herself away from society - and speaks of how the outside world seems to her.
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