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Marya123 Dec 2019
**** the glass ceiling
It's too high in the sky
I'm still at rock bottom
Only wanting to cry.

Let someone else break it
I'm too weak to move
Maybe this was a mistake
I have nothing to prove.
There is no way.
Allison Wonder Nov 2019
Writing and writing
trying to stay away
from the escape that
rests within my blade

Writing and writing
until my hand starts to cramp
wish to feel instead,
an ankle that is damp

Writing and writing
trying to find release.
Why isn't this working?
I just want some peace

Writing and writing
until all the ink runs out
maybe I've written myself
into a burnout
Rafael Gonzaga Sep 2019
trying to write is harder now
i seemed to not remember how
to make words dance and lines sing
To give rhymes that certain ring
to break hearts and heal scars
to go back to the time we call ours
Cedric Aug 2019
Motivations burn,
Searing into my ****** mind!
Yet the flame dies down…
Disappearing like a ghost,
Leaving me an empty husk.
A tanka of a flame burning out…
Janelle Tanguin Jun 2019
But our eyes can't unmeet,
and you can't unwound my heart,
the strings you tugged at.
I'm not the kind of person you keep 
when you let everything just
fall apart.

You were always the first one
to bolt out the door
when the curtains caught fire,
when the faucet spewed dirt
instead of water.

What little light I thought you saw
in my fluorescent eyes,
couldn't get past your opacity
and you just watched them
burn out.

It was always going to end
exactly like
this.
02.01.19
23:59
Dante May 2019
She was kind to me once. Just once.
And when I clung to that kindness, she went so quiet.
"I don't want that" she'd mean to say,
but only with the absence of words did she ever speak to me.
And I, ever so lost
(like Alice if Alice were to speak a different language than the flowers and rabbit)
understood that death was at the end of this.
Death was the finish line, and I was sprinting in the dark.
Where was the end? I didn't know.
I didn't know anything.

The woman in the Mexican soap opera had cancer.
"This is it" I thought. "I am close to death".
It wasn't cancer. It wasn't anything.

"How will I escape death?" I thought.

"Death." I thought.

I thought I'd have to die to avoid death.

Unspoken language means nothing to Alice, Kim.
For you are Rabbit, and your need has fallen on deaf ears, on torn open heart, on Alice, on death, on death,

on me.



-
Unresolved trauma from 3 years ago.
Only now am I able to talk about it.
josie May 2019
If I am constantly told that
my grades do not define me,
then why has my entire life
been centered around making
them perfect?
Why do you not care if I
have values or morals but
instead care if I know what
the hypotenuse of a triangle is?
Why am I graded on how much
I can jam in the already
stuffed file cabinets of my brain
when I am constantly told
I am more than my GPA?
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