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Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the grass is not green:)


too much to bare
the polar twins resemblance in no fair

now the run I understand
still the twist of burning faces is what I can't

ran wind free
a second of nothing but me

the blonds in uniqueness stand under the red light
wait until the fear cripples and the big dog bites

the tea boiling somewhere for no one to drink
the ruined building leaves a pile to think

pupils dilate
thoughts shrink swallowing the bate

yet the crowd remains
I shower in public and fingerprints don't stain

a red rock star barks
stage shakes and throats are mic marked

nice dreams but crap
the plutonian not funny when children under your feet you have

                                                           ­                      -------ravenfeels
Raven Feels May 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, things can get weirder than ever---and I like it<3


welcome to the nation savor

a whole new destiny like a cinnamon flavor

although some rainy a bit abnormal to my harbors

yet that blond charm made it hard to delete from my markers

everybody wants to swim

in a world to bond and have a friend a twin

afraid if I was about to miss the rocking riff

I don't know if I can handle yellow anymore so stiff


                                                         ­                   ------ravenfeels
I colored my hair for you.
platinum blond, like the ones
you always looked at the magazines
that you stole from the department store;
pretending to stroll casually,
walking slowly, avoiding stares
while we held the laughter
trying to burst within
our cheeks.

I colored my hair for you.
because of the inadequacy I feel
whenever I hold your hand
as we walk across the
judgement of bystanders, gazing
whispering, but you and I knew
that they don't matter as
long as I am holding you,
and you are holding me
I felt different yet
with you I am the same.

I colored my hair for you.
to express the liberty of your choice
to be with someone like me,
with black of hair, beneath your chin;
and being with you elevates
my being, and the contrast
of differences among differences.

I did it for you,
or so I thought.

you asked me why,
and I told you
I shed the darkness of my old persona
and the absence of pigments
on the crown of my head
is a blank slate; could be anything

for white is the color of a fresh start
or of deceit,
or of emptiness.

and I am but a mixture of those,
for I am weak but perceived as strong
for I am friendly but alone
for I am a freshly painted wall, with scars
of a graffiti screaming for a revolution

blond, I am.
a simple choice
with a taste
for a *******
freedom
of self - expression.

blond, I am.
a color I chose
to be.

I colored my hair for you.
And I remember, inside my head
I made you.
you choose who you want to be
Sara Svensson Dec 2018
You're so much like our father
With the careless gaze you have
Your unempathetic, selfish ways
Your golden, bright blond hair.

Perhaps it is why you coloured it brown
So you'd look more like me instead
You must not have noticed yet, dear brother
I look so much like our dad.
Talia Sep 2018
The more I find out, the less I know
you gaze into the black abyss of my eyes
while I admire your pale skin like it's snow
you think I can't see through your seductive disguise?
your blue eyes only entice me more
I didn't mean to dive in this deep
lost in your ocean, no hope of washing ashore
as your blond hair glistens in the moonlight, the secrets seem to seep.
Bella Jun 2018
Imagine
blonde ponytail swinging from brunette root
angled in a straight line with her jaw bone
Pouted lips
and manicured eyelashes
layered in dark,
heavy fabrics
to counter her fair skin
and tall golden brown boots

Her hands are heavy
sharp.
Her eyes are tired
her jaw compresses.
Up and down
chewing on gum
she has a few red scars
scattered on her cheeks
like freckles

She's curved
not necessarily slouched
but more like
it's the only way to fit all of her into her chair
her legs are crossed
her earrings dangle
as if in mid-air

She's thinking,
constantly
thinking
This is for Lilly
c May 2018
Maybe snow cones
And pickup lines
Aren’t meant to go
Hand in hand,
But I needed a map
Because I was lost in your eyes.

You gave me a snow cone
I gave you my number
And maybe
That’s not a good trade
But you thought
Maybe
It was worth it
At least for one night.

You’re just a football-playing
Baseball boy
And maybe
There was a spark
And maybe
You liked the taste of grape
That lingered on my lips
And maybe
You’re still going
To text me back.

But maybe
Is no assurance
To a girl
In love with love
And boys who make
Snow cones.
-c.
nick armbrister Feb 2018
Blonde-haired girl waiting for something, I don’t know what,
standing there with a look of mischievous happiness on your face.
I see the wind tussle your hair, delicate blowing strands, see the sunburst
on your blonde hair – an explosion of gold, beauty eternal at this moment.
Head slightly bowed, eyes ahead, mouth resting on your pink cardigan.
You must be thinking of something funny, see you smile for an instant –
sun through the clouds.
For few precious minutes I watch you, you don’t see me, I see you
and do this poem for you, blonde girl waiting for something – what?
I will continue on
With my undying passion
And will continue to smile
Because I contain no compassion

I must find a new house
This one is getting old
I forgot to clean a mess
So now the energy is cold

I must find my new girl
Blonde hair blue eyes
She must not get away
I'll have to tighten the ties

From my truck to the kitchen
Everything in fine
Until you awaken
And realize you are mine

That is when you panic
And try to scream or yell
Little do you notice
You've already entered hell
I live for sight of pain
And will do what I have to
To see your eyes roll backwards
And witness your lips turn blue

I will use whatever device
That brings you the most tears
So you will not forget my face
And I will haunt your fears

Even my touch stings your skin
Imagine how my knife feels
You may cry all you want
But I do not make deals

There is a reason you were chosen
And I am not giving you away
All my senses pointed to you
Which is why you're now my prey

You keep trying to fight back
But that just makes it worse
For I cannot heal your wounds
Because I am not a nurse

I regret the way you died
I didn't mean to stab your heart
It's been 5 weeks and some sewing
But you are still falling apart

I left the house today
I will get over you, but when?
Hey, Blonde hair blue eyes
There you are again
Just some horror fiction
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