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piper Apr 2019
Up
Waking up,
That sweet, sweet smell of music.
That beautiful sound of the toaster ding,
And the wonderful smell of sunlight,
Peeking through the careless curtain edges.
It's going to be a wonderful day.


That is,
If I get up.

                                             -YYC
Keep reading.
M Apr 2019
Her.
reeking of cheap perfume and daddy issues
polyester black cloth elegant, purposeful in its placing
“everything is free if you run fast enough”

something was going to **** her anyway
why not let it be something of her own design?

taking a drag of her pernicious cigarette
forcing careful and cultivated opinions
if only to silence the sadist inside

she had already walked in loneliness
full of satin bows and amusement
so it might as have happened now
because everyone always loves you better when you’re dead
mediocrely morbid (thats not a word) and kind of lame. still, fun to write and hopefully fun to read.
Crystal Freda Mar 2019
country girl
toddled back home.
sepia leaves traced behind her
tumbling on the flaccid, dusty loam.

country girl
in her licorice colored boots
daydreamed at the piebald trees
rotting from their roots.

country girl
dancing in auburn checkered dress
sprinted home mirthfully
looking like a mess.
grace Feb 2019
her lips taste like lime
bittersweet to me
when im gone from her life
will i be a flavour to remember
Beanie Jan 2019
did i ever tell you
about the way your hair
shines in the sun?

did i ever tell you
about the way your eyes
sparkle with mischief?

i don’t believe i have.

allow me to,
grant me this one favor,
my only request from you.

let me tell you about
the way you smile,
nothing could make me happier.

let me tell you about
the decadence of your voice,
nothing could bring me more joy.

let me tell you about
your passion for what you love,
nothing could be more exciting.

have you had your fill?

eaten and drank enough words
that you might sink
to the bottom of a river and settle there?

have you enjoyed yourself yet?

have you found happiness?

have you felt contentedness in the warmth of your chest?

stay at the bottom of the river,
lover,
where your hair is a dull gleam,
your eyes glassy and vacant.

stay sunken and stuffed,
your smile vacuous,
your words unspoken,
your passion swallowed down.

are you worried yet?

can you still move?
still breathe?

are you certain of yourself,
of your surroundings?

where are you?

are you still alive, even?

is your heartbeat strong as it was moments ago?

this is no love poem,
this is a ****** poem.

this is where i drown you,
fill your lungs with your arrogance
the same way i filled your ego with words.

this is where i cross the line,
from love to hate,
fire to ice.

i am your lover,
am i?
Zeynep Çiçek Jan 2019
Taste of sugar - maybe stevia
In the back of my tongue
Where the throat meets the muscle
And draws the line, the border
It’s so sweet despite not having a sweet tooth
I can’t handle it though
Some can’t handle the thought

I don’t understand
There is
This sweet taste
At the start of my throat
Every night when I lay awake
I wonder why
It won’t go away
Every time I pull an all-nighter I have this weird sweet taste right there. It’s so weird and it always appears after four AM
Fenixx Menefee Jan 2019
"I'm sorry." That singular phrase. I hate it, it makes me feel weak.
No one ever means it. They should give up and just not speak.
It's a habit of mine to say sorry for something I'm not sorry for.
I'm not sorry, not one bit. I hate that it is part of me, it's an eyesore.
Please stop my pity parties. I can't contain them, please help me.
I'm sorry I'm like this. I'm sorry I'm the one making an apology.
I can't stop saying sorry. It's an essential part of my internal code.
It seems that I'm sorry is the only phrase my brain wants to upload.
I'm incredibly sorry and I don't really know why?
Maybe I'm apologizing for something useless that I identify?
I have many questions for my sorry brain, why am I sorry? What for?
I see this as a negative quality that no one will ever adore.
I keep saying sorry, I don't know how to stop it, please help me
I can't stop, help me get rid of this depressing and pitiful apology
I hate myself for feeling this weak, I'm definitely not strong
I hate that my feeling of strength always feels wrong.
I can't stand this feeling of being unwanted wherever I go
My tears say I'm sorry and they fall like glistening snow
I'm sorry that each time I say it, I start crying uncontrollably
I'm sorry that you can't really help me, it will go on inconsolably.
I will always be sorry, there's no changing that fact
I always apologize to people only when I'm feeling attacked
You can't help me in any way possible, I'm forever broken
No one can hear me scream because I will always be outspoken.
I'm an extremely apologetic person, so this poem portrays what I think each time I say that I'm sorry.
Fenixx Menefee Jan 2019
Words can be beautiful or hurtful, but they also can be nothing at all
It just depends on who is saying them and who they're being said to
Many understand their purpose while others are absolutely clueless
Broken thoughts and memories can be put into words

Words have a purpose in our existence, they aren't completely useless
Songs, poems, and other such things use many words
Each one longer than the last, words control and contain our thoughts
It would be strange to live in a world without words since they are the fiber of most things
Fenixx Menefee Dec 2018
All around me, every day, I see them, lurking
Characters teasing me, praising me, staring at me, smirking
They're there every day, waiting, preying upon me, I'm their target
These characters of mine, I loathe them, they speak to me using an argot

Characters, they won't leave me alone, droning on and on in my head
I can't get rid of them, they'll never leave, each one I hope to shed
These characters most people call "voices," but that doesn't explain much
They hold onto me, suffocating me, they're a huge mental crutch

They're just holding me back, but I can't push them away, I hate it
Characters, I avoid and ignore them, but I share their pain, I'm a hypocrite
I despise them all, each and every one, I need them gone
These characters, these "voices," they're a "phenomenon."

Characters, such a repetitive topic, repetition is so boring
I hope I can keep this up a little longer, my abilities restoring
These characters limit the things I can do, I have a mental lock
I don't know how to express it, I might go into shock

I hope one day they'll leave me for good, they're such a pain
Characters I see, in the darkest puddles, and in each and every drop of rain
I can't ever get rid of them, they're here with me for life
These characters of mine will be with me, even in my afterlife
Fenixx Menefee Nov 2018
I've often noticed numerous features
Many of which are on gardeners and bakers and preachers
But I have never even mentioned my own
Many peers of mine point them out to the teachers
To be silent and observe is what I am prone

I find listening and watching much more meticulous
I realise they don't understand how I stay quiet during the day
For they all speak and sound quite ridiculous
I think they may soon learn of what they say
At least I hope, I can never say for sure when they may
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