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Lily 2h
I want to go some place where
Nobody judges me for what I look like;
My race, my hair color, my skin tone, body shape.
I want to go some place where
Everybody always lifts each other up,
Compliments them on the little things that
Make them feel like somebody is actually watching,
That somebody actually cares.
I want to go some place where I can have my freedoms,
And do the things I love to do without restraint.
I want to go some place where I can laugh
And no one will say my laugh is ugly, or witch-like, or fake.
I want to go some place where internal beauty is appreciated
More than external beauty,
And where compassion, honesty, respect, and intelligence
Are more important than what shoes you wear or
How you do your hair.
I want to go some place where love is not taken for granted,
But granted brand new and fresh every day.
My only question is,
Can a place be a person?
Nichole 7h
him
So caring
and loving
He's not sleeping
When you both are fighting

to all your stubbornness
he can handle it
surprisingly he treat you like a princess
when your are just a useless trash who just sleep and eat


get furious about you in bad situation
but can't help his self but to forgive you.
Kisses in the forehead
and you both wakes up cuddling in bed

Have the same thoughts
thinks about the problems you fought
the sacrifices you make
but the bond never break
bf duties?
Nichole 8h
I kept staring at the ceiling
Keep on thinking what is this feeling
So heavy and it pulls me down
but can't show them my frown.

At  night I cried
but in daylight you see me smile
but inside i already died
that all of my actions was just a lie.

I kept on asking
if i give up what would it be?
i kept thinking
should i live or die and flee.

A light shines
but a little bit fading
the fire was out of lightning
fall out of darkness scared and so frightening.

Grab his hand
in his arms you will land
Is he your savior?
or another person who will slap you your failure?
hi guys? it's been a long time im trying to make a story poem but  looks like i cant
KJ 22h
I used to think
that we were born empty
and someone else had to make us whole.

I used to believe
that he would complete me
not leave me empty and cold.

The boy stripped me
bare and took everything
from me just to fill himself.

I became nothing
but a shell of the girl that
I used to be, before he emptied me.

I used to think that
he loved me and he was doing
this to me out of care and devotion.

I was wrong to think,
to believe that he caged
me out of love and admiration.

Each hit
and verbal abuse
felt like love to me.

He told me that
he was scared of losing me,
so he lost his mind when I didn't answer.

He loved me
too much to let me
do a n y t h i n g by myself.

If I didn't have him
I would end up alone,
who else could possibly want me?

I believed
each and every
lie that he told me.

-is it really abuse if he says he loves you?
sometimes abuse sneaks up on you and you convince yourself that you're the problem, not him.
Asonna 1d
S.S
I kissed your shoulder as you fell asleep that morning,
I've never felt this close.
Intimacy warrants a level of trust,
an ease i've not felt until now.
My hair lay strewn on your pillowcase,
I'm just listening to you breathe,
My fingers delicately trace over your skin,
close my eyes and let everything in.
You placed your hand against my thigh,
even though you're asleep.
A warmth in my heart, didn't know it exists,
but i know it's because of you.

I know you're truly wonderful.
And I thank you for your kindness.
I know that you choose to be with me,
But it feels like the greatest gift in while.

x
Audrey 1d
I loved you the moment before it
and when you were done
I left you

how evil some may think right?
but you knew what you did
and like a cat I tried to get out
but you caught me
you always do.

you egotistical, sadistic, narcissistic son of a AGHHHGHHHIEWHOGABGILG

play the victim so my ears can rest.
and I won't need to explain.
and you can do what you do best.
and haunt me with the pain.
this poem is all my feelings and emotions together it doesn't rhyme or have a pattern bear with me.
eli 1d
there's a lot of things that make you so amazing
but I love the way you look at me
talk to me
smile at me

I love the way that I'm not awkward around you
i love how you give me butterflies
i love the goodnight and good morning texts
i just love everything about you
-clayton
Your face has been splattered with freckles all over.
I look at you and I'm staring up at a star filled sky, yet to be mapped out.
I give a name to the constellation on the bridge of your nose.
I give a name to the cluster of freckles on your eyelid.
I map the sky out and give everything names and I name them all after me.
you look like everything i've been searching for
complete with a scruff on your cheeks
and a thick accent that makes every word you say
sound sweeter.

you look like home.

and i feel more heat in my body
and more love in my heart than i have ever felt
for anyone else,

i crave your touch
around my waist
your lips on my neck.

part of me wants to live in the glory of these feelings,
and part of me wants to crush them with my fist.

i don't want to feel too much for you.
you don't know it now,
but my downfall in the past has been just that.

i know i already have though
i know the feelings have already dug themselves
deep inside my bones and planted seeds
that will bloom a soft yellow in the spring

whether you stay or not.
The terraces and neglected cafes stays pretty, and even quiet.
The weight of day. The sunset sugar pills. Blue lamppost, a big blue.
Teasing bastard friend, mocking the boy with the piercing on this left face,
The lipstick was twice priced, yes so, A one, five and two with two makes ten.

The chit chat after more chat of short people, talk people, spokespeople
and Notpoeople. Strike twelve, now boredom. His huffing flu resolved itself
"Yessum," he tried saying. For whatever reason. Was a boyfriend of hers.

Indecisive of the next blow. With his little socks and socks of red and green
Put on orderly. Hopes to avoid his thickening, unforgiving secret. Still mixed clues.
A puzzle, a puzzle piece in the centre of question. Arises the attitude remedy.
His only skill is comedy.  A blaze morning sun rises now. Oh dear, not now.

Strolls about resembling exactly of kings. A King, he told himself to be like.
Waiting, waiting, in a hurry he's waiting to wait for the girl to come, presently.
In Proportions, he waits presently. So easy and a little hasty, here she comes -

Sugar on ice, not all but a slice delight, my precise precise. Having lunch,
Delicacy lemonade, in likeness, with a perfect meal with sauce on fries.
There's too much honey in his drink - Tender change, good meal they say.

                                                                          *  

They lost each other in April,  A signal of hurt was played in a collection of rue.

She was left with a blister, mostly solemn, absent and good.

The terraces and cafes remain pretty, and even quiet.
Life at Seventeen
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