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Elizabeth Feb 13
I was once bullied
They didn't like me speak English
They imagined me to be arrogant.
They forced me into a hall
where poetry competition was on.
My first one ever.
They thought I would have an awakening
and stop speaking in English in the campus.
But I won that time
for the best poem of the year
I remember them vividly
with gratitude of course.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
There's an apology written in the snow
'I'm sorry about last night. Can I see you again?'
Her wordless exhalation causing the glass to fog
In nearly the same way as her thoughts
About last night

Second date
First ****
"25% of college women report that they survived **** or an attempted **** at some point in their lifetime.
Every 21 hours, another woman is ***** on a college campus today." --
Amaris Jul 2019
The blossom floats to the ground
It hits so violently all of hell shakes
Heaven gazes wordlessly from above,
Watching our actions, judging us.
One eye follows our every move,
Waiting for failure; maybe I'll never graduate
Let's wander past old brick buildings
(a collaboration)
eng jin Apr 2018
On campus

the morning rain is subsiding  
while the cool air is still flowing
a live band starts to play  
in front of the library
beneath some trees
sweet and beautiful melodies
to promote a ‘happy relax’ theme

while my fingers tap to the beat
a familiar face
appears and sits
between the band
and my seat

indeed a pleasant surprise
but I should leave soon
a revision class is starting

should I stay or should I leave?

ah what a rare chance it is
to find the heart
where it wants to be,
I should stay

yet the tuition class
is where I ought to be
I should go

torn in between
I look up
to the streaks of light
slipping through
the wet foliage,

it then occurred to me
don’t think too hard
just enjoy the stay…
elle jaxsun Jul 2018
we walked through
campus together.
the sun was shining,
purple and gold
flowers lined our path.
in the fountain outside
of the library
birds were bathing
and the campus cats
were sitting in the
bushes, only admiring

because they know better than the boys on campus what not to touch.
Angelique Oct 2017
It's a cool October morning
on campus
across the way children play
you see college students make their way from one class to another
living out these lives that vary from
one existence into another

meanwhile, children play
and all the way these adults
to some and not others
make their way
some pretending
some barely surviving
some ridicule the experience
some express gratitude
because it's all some of us really have
this chance
that one day a future worth living may arise

and then all the while, children play
we all wish we could turn back this clock that
lays both in our existence and our imagination
this clock
that holds these memories
that tells us we're far
and then so near
in the blink of an eye
tells us there may be something to fear
because by chance
one in a few
may not make it

all the while children play
we reminisce about our time
we tell ourselves we wish to turn back to the simple moments
but the truth is
this clock lays partially into existence
so that we may think back
and grasp what we didn't at the time
so that we may act
in accordance
when it comes time

its a cool October morning
on campus
across the way children play
as I make my way
an abstract page
with an old pen that I always bring in my grey bag
just keep writing and always
on the unpredictable days
creating new laugh and story with my friends
assuredly coloring new days
starting new semester at university
I had to call the cops on my ex-boyfriend last Thursday:

Stop looking at me like I did something to you.
I have campus police on speed dial, if you do not leave, I will call them.
You need to stop pretending like I did something wrong to you.
I am dialing the number right now.
Look at me. Look at me! Stop looking at me like you're a victim! I didn't do anything wrong to you. I don't deserve this.
Look, it's ringing. You need to leave.
First, you need to stop looking at me like I did something wrong to you.
No. Leave.
Look at me!

You feel a special kind of guilty when you have a stalker. You don't want to believe that someone you ever loved would to this. You really don't want to believe that someone you were ever intimate with, or someone who has pictures that you painted for them in their room would do this to you. You don't want to feel vulnerable. And you really don't want to feel that every few seconds, you need to be looking over your shoulder for them. You just want them to leave you alone.
This is pretty personal, but whatever.
eli Oct 2015
my brother told me not to use to cope
but too late, i have become a dope
need this to balance my stress
in order to worry less

he told me he's seen early signs of depression in me
man, i hope my problems aren't so clear to see
they call me strong but i feel so weak
waking up every morning wondering if i'll see next week

i can't tell anyone about my subtle suicidal tendencies
for fear they'll send me away to mental facilities
my dad paid 15k to see my succeed
but no money can make my mind feel freed

i miss her everyday.

poetry's a part of me, but without her i have no eyes to see,
left like Odysseus out in sea

everyone needs someone in this life
i know because without her i don't feel alive
to fix this, no scientific formula can be contrived

just, maybe
if i jump off this ledge i'll be fine,
finally free, up in the sky i will shine.
Octavia Malkin Aug 2015
I remember you as the missionary that turned my body into a piece of land
That night you crossed an ocean of friendliness to claim as your own.
But this land was already inhabited by the likes of me, a native to my body
And you, a foreign body that I could not wash clean.
I showered five times that night, but you had already implanted a plague
Of confusion and hate within me.

You took my smile aprisoner, never to be seen again
Until we passed each other on campus four months later.
You flaunted your smirk as if you got a flashback too
But unlike mine it was a happy one.
Not like the ones I have had at least once a week for the last year,
Where I'm back to the night of the invasion
And end up shaking in fear.

I had known you for no less than ten months,
Always saw you at house parties and in night clubs with our mutual friends -
Don't you think it's weird that we used to be friends?
You know when I shared that taxi back with you I expected you to get me home safely,
Leave me at the door and in the morning I'd text you to make sure you got home okay,
Moan about our headaches and compare hangover cures.

I did not expect you to ask to come in but I allowed it.
A glass of water for your way and to use my bathroom because
Being ****** and needing a **** at the same time is hard
But that's where my consent ended,
Rejected your ****** advances, pleaded for you to leave
And you had the audacity to say that I didn't mean it.
Like I wouldn't know what the words leaving my mouth meant,
Like I didn't spend the last nineteen years of my life learning about consent
And the dangers of the female body.

When you hear about **** it's always in dark alleyways,
Strangers pouncing on weaker prey - that sick, lonely, *******,
And never the friend that you took shots with.
Never the guy that's the life of the party.
Never the guy that works for your university.

Over the last year I have cried an ocean, big enough to stop another man from crossing.
I'm working on my liberation, fighting for my independence from this nightmare.
I know you conquered other friends too, but I refuse to be another colony in your empire -
Another person to be victimised,
Because it's YOU, Missionary, that needs to be civilised.
The past year has been a hard one, and basically.
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