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im alone
im lonely in a group setting
i strive to be at the top like a heading
but i am so alone

i want to be loved
i want to be your white dove
but i am alone,
i fall into your trap
like a sticky plate of cheese
but i am done.

i am alone
i get denied like i have bad credit.
short and sweet.
Zackary Mar 8
“Sometimes I wonder what I would do
If I lived in a world without you
There is no way I could go on
I would end it all, anon, anon!

If I didn’t have you here
I might as well pick out my bier
Without you, nothing does feel right
Even thinking of you, awake at night

To know that you aren’t doing the same
Would leave me woeful, breathless, lame
I cannot live without you, my love”
So goes the song of the midnight dove

With tears on its face
And it’s mind out of place
There is no need for it to wonder
It’s already happened, though it hides under

All the “I love you’s”
And the “I love you too’s”
So distraught is the dove
As it’s all out of love

Because it spent it all on you
We've all been in this situation, and I'm sure you can understand the pain I'm going through right now. She's pushed me away, and yet she still wants me to stay. She tells me I'm her everything...her boyfriend doesn't like that at all.
I saw a cat
outside my window;
decided to write a poem
about that.
It's big yellow eyes stared up at me
and it's long, black tail
looked like a rats'.
I thought that if I'd look long enough,
I'd start to talk to about stuff.
It looked like it
knew so much about love,
his eyes were flying like a dove.
I stared at it
for a while longer,
every minute getting closer
                                            and closer.
I stepped outside,
gently opening my hand.
The cat came closer
and started chewing at what I gave him.
His gently purr
relaxed me
and there we were,
sitting together like we were
friend forever.
I felt like I really needed to write something about the cat outside my window, plus I was kinda board. Hope you enjoyed this! :)
Isaiah Rude Feb 17
A flutter, then two, then airbound
It’s beastly, the flock, and takes form
White feathers, chaos, they rain down
Pretty shapes, patterns, so performed.
Its white wall taunted her, the poor green dove
Her poor tears stain one more, she doesn’t see
And every bird she passed, she dyed with love
Her very tears blinding, only pity
She drowns herself, so never gets to see
The massive green flock that’s now following
it was December
do you remember
cause I do
you make me so happy
you make me feel so very alive
it is incredible
it is inevitable
our love
is like a dove
so pure and beautiful
you make me feel full
i love you
12-20-18 <3 Emilee
Alec Feb 6
They all ways come back,
With there Black and dark eyes,
I scream As they Hijack the rest of the love I have,
I have flashbacks of my dove,
All my Daydreams of my dove's bloodstream.

As her Blood falls,
I cry,
I lie and scream 'IT NOT MY FAULT!'
I cry As I swallow their salt,
I would die for her,
She died for me,
They think I'm unhurt,
That a lie,
I'm screaming in pain without her,
My Dove.
My love for my dove. Pt2
Shame Jan 13
On my way to this place
what were some traits that I missed
recognizing as my own things?
I can't separate my own from your things.
That's always been my great undoing.
I lose control of my self so quickly.
Once looking like a dove, I become
oil slick and grounded in a swamp,
where the flighty thing becomes a being
made up of the rant and the cry and the yell,
*****, not as a state, but as the state of things.
I can't separate my own from your things.
Now I'm alone. I'm alone. And I feel.
This bird's alone for the first time.
On my way to this place, I've hurt
and I've caused big hurt. Now I'm free to see
through these eyes, all alone.
Now I'm alone. I'm alone. And I feel
Like myself. Purified.
faith Dec 2018
drifting downward,
picked up by a breeze,
floating townward,
with everything at ease,
i envy this feather,
so careless and free,
i'm tied down with leather,
with nothing to see,
a weight in my heart,
a wait in my head,
my dry lips now part,
i'm on my deathbed,
my heart is still hurting,
oh when will it stop,
why can't he stop flirting,
and just set up shop,
inside my arms,
with comfort and love,
where no one will harm,
my one true love.
Kate Nov 2018
It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
The hour where naught is awake but
Lovers and dreamers
And those deemed too far gone by the rest of us;
To which we send a wilting flower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
Here I mourn the loss of life
When I took a sterile sword to my own heart
And peered into the gaping, gaping void
Dissolving away the ghost that haunts my hollow tower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
I mourn the incursion that initiated it
Mourn a life I have known so well
As well as a life I think I shall not meet
Tied, side by side, in a waking melancholy sour.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
Doves less mournful than I have passed on to sleep
And he is, as I dream, forming faster each day
Only now, in death, so dear to me
And I reach out, into the darkness of the night
And end the mourning hour.
An eternal grieving I shall bear forevermore.
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