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former selves in the scribble of some crooked writing
middle of reformed books, evolved journals
i was in them and now i'm not
into the mirror
but when i point at you
its me that walks away feeling


i don't know you anymore
but maybe i never did
evolution of personalities
Many hours go by
Like a butterfly that tries to fly
Unless we attempt with good actions
It will never leave us in satisfaction
So many hours go by
All spent locked in my room as I cry
In every tear shed
I attempt to **** myself on my bed
Countless hours spent
As my life turns into a hollow,black dent
In every galaxy there is a rhythm
All I try to do is fit into this earthly system
See, people are extremely, evilly, deviously rude
Even when they're supposed to be in a good mood
All these hours spent by my bedside
Passing DeathTrain and trying to get a ride
Words spinning around my misunderstood head
I only want to drop down dead
Everywhere I go
These people interrupting my flow
Such simplicity in death
All I need is an overdose on ****.
Once I had a single friend
Sadly their life came to a painful end
Many days spent regretting
Why even bother fretting?
Everyday a chance to grab a gun and ****
I'll do it today; its my choice, my will
Send me your feedback in the comments!!!
The silent echo of the night
Just one flickering light

Whisper of two friends getting along
In the Silence just hear their cheerful song

Like the flow of the ocean
They were full of emotion

In the Silent Room
I still found him talking to the Moon

                                                           ­     ...Michael J Fourie
Sometimes when the world puts you down,you just need to take a breath and talk to the Bigman.The light of hope will always flicker whether it is in a light,lamp or the moon.You will find light in your darkness.
Mother Nature fights and cries

Her children thrown onto the floor and die

Unless we decide to choose and change

Our future's path will be small in range

Swallowing, Crushing, burning all through

Mother Nature's prodigies will become few

In the Seven Seas, fish and whales swim

Before they choke on plastic and their eyes go dim

Count the amount of animals who could've avoided signing their death case

If all we had done was not put on our hunting game face?

In every action there is an equal and opposite reaction

It is up to us to leave it in satisfaction

Soon our tomorrow will crumble and burn

Nothing left maybe a single fern

Are all humans so deviously rude

Taking even the ocean's crude

Why must we act so? Cause damage to and fro

Reap these seeds that we badly sow

Everyday we hear on the news

Murders, scandals, causing us blues

Serious acts, a despicable thing,

Yet we fight over petty bling

Our future might not be so bright

Don't let it put you in a fright

Maybe Mother Nature won't cry

Maybe her children won't die

Everyday a chance to use your voice

You can help; its your choice
This is my first poem so to anyone who reads it please leave helpful notes in the comments!!!!!
Today, the love of my life left me.
Am I sad? I don't know.
I tried to hide myself and not let it affect me.
Am I okay? I don't know.

Today, I decided that it's time to grow up.
Do I really want to? I don't know.
Time doesn't stop, the older I get the more I want to give up.
Will I really give in? I don't know.

Today, my heart ached as I think about the mistakes that I made.
Why do I do this? I don't know.
I felt tears in my eyes but I forgot how to cry.
What is this feeling? I don't know.
i'm looking at the bridge
i long to drive on it
the beautiful view of the sea
it calls me

i'm driving on the bridge
i long to stand on it
the beautiful view of speeding cars
it calls me

i'm standing on the bridge
i long to sit on the edge
the beautiful view of below
it calls me

i'm sitting on the edge of the bridge
i long to jump off
the beautiful feel of the thrashing waves
it calls me

i'm jumping off the bridge
i long to look again
the beautiful view of the structure
it calls me
Glass 3d
there have been sureties
not been able to suffer from avoidance;
contiguity and octave that when our hands compose
they become
a cistern prognosis which are
visibly shut
in there own organs waiting for
an unborn character to
upset through weakness, and a
faltered selfish flavor that jolts into
a superstition of your own apathetic

- G
Official poem of 2019
If I am writing about you now,
then you have stolen from me
something as precious
as the gem I was named for--
my voice.

I'm afraid our encounters
were never quite as cinematic
as Disney's animation--
no tantalizing mist of green
shrouding our figures,
no sweet harmony
evaporating from a
frightened, rouged mouth
in wisps of golden light,
and absolutely no
happily ever afters.

you've always had
a catty flair
for stepping all over me
like a Just Dance Mat--
yes, I'm quite familiar
with the way you toy
with others, myself included;
and the **** has never
defeated the Game Master.

Call a ***** a *****;
I know very well that
I can't change you
or what you did me.

I can't undo the hurt.

But I can reclaim my voice.

Through poetry,
I will say all the things
I wish I had the courage
to say to you
way back when
in response to your
cruel fuckery.

I will expose you
for what you truly are--
a petty,
sea (witch) *****.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience.)
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