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Morgan Howard Oct 2024
Dry your tears little girl
For no one can see you cry
Wipe your sadness away
You can smile all you want
But eyes don't lie
So dry your tears little girl
For you are not
A little girl anymore
Michael Done Oct 2024
Ah, silent wordless love,
Sweet smiling melancholy,
Solitary, symphonic,
Saying nothing, answering nothing.

All the while your tireless arms
Nurse my trembling life,
Caress the gleaming cosmos,
Bringing close the happy heart of God.
Even at age 72, I sometimes wake in the night frightened. It happened earlier tonight, around 2am. It’s happened thousands of times, going way back to when I was a little kid. Yet it often still shocks and shakes me, as if it were the first time. For a while I just lie here scared and bewildered, with no idea what to do or how to look after myself. But sooner or later, I remember. I put on some gentle music, reach for my beloved bedside notebook, sit very still and listen. Then … I write.
Aurora Oct 2024
****** folds of paper,
Bind with a sewing needle,
And of course, it needed a cover page-
A drawing in crayon,
Because the little child in me found joy in drawing with crayons.
Most of the pages were little glimpses of life.
As the pages passed, drawings appeared-
Drawings of what I thought I looked like,
-A strange way to capture self-hate,
Some pages carried words that would-
Make you feel like they were pressing down on your chest,
And you couldn’t really breathe.
-Suffocating
If I read them out loud, I would burst.
Some pages had tissues speckled with blood-
Like little red polka dots.
They were words I couldn’t express on paper.
I put them in a little box,
The world will never see it.
It wasn’t meant to be published.
This poem is inspired by my childhood diary. It’s made me upset about how much I was holding on to at that age.
MetaVerse Oct 2024
The scarecrow scares
     The scaredy cat.
The scarecrow stares.
The scarecrow scares
The boy he swears
     (While staring) at.
The scarecrow scares
     The scaredy cat.
Emery Feine Oct 2024
The Forgotten Child always tries
The Forgotten Child never cries
The Forgotten Child will never fly
The Forgotten Child will never know why

Their name, no one will remember
Their future, not even an ember
Their wealth, all will be sold in
Their popularity, all given to The Golden

The Golden Child never tries
But The Golden Child always cries
The Golden Child will always fly
But The Forgotten Child will never know why

Their love, everyone wants them
Their friends, everyone wants some
They keep, everything they've ever gotten
Their future, better than The Forgotten

The Forgotten Child will always do more
Yet they'll never be first
What are they even good for?
They'll always be the worst.
this is my 112th poem, written on 7/16/24
Justination Oct 2024
In the cradle of dawn where the shadows play
A child awakes to the world's bright array
With laugh like ripples on a sun-kissed stream
Imagination unfolds like a vibrant dream

Tiny hands grasp at the stars in the sky
Each moment an adventure as days' flurry by
With nature as canvas, they paint with delight
In a kingdom of wonder, all senses take flight

Then the youth comes a calling, a tornado in bloom
With eyes full of fire and a heart like a plume
Chasing the sunsets on roads made of hope
Struggling with shadows, learning to cope

It's the thrill of first love, the ache of goodbyes
The forging of dreams beneath changing skies
With leagues to explore and the world on their chest
In the chaos of passions, they long for the rest

And then to adulthood where the seasons intertwine
With roots that run deep and ambitions that shine
Responsibilities weigh like a cloak on the soul
As we balance our dreams with the weight of our goal

The laughter of children, the warmth of a home
In the threads of life, we are never alone
Through trials and triumphs, in joy and in strife
We knit a rich curtain, this beautiful life

Each phase flows like water, a river divine
Carving paths through the mountains, leaving old-age design
From the innocence of youth to wisdom's embrace
Life's ever-changing dance is a timeless grace

So here's to the journey with each turn of age
From child to adulthood, we all share the stage
In the heart of existence, phase by phase
We find the pure magic in life's winding maze
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