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Sienna Feb 19
A little native girl,
went upon her day,
not yet understanding,
what was to come her way.

Pale people on ships,
descending down the bay,
would go on to take her,
far, far away.

Too young to comprehend,
her life would never be the same,
and was ripped from beneath her feet,
without any shame.

A glimpse of harsh reality,
in the darkness there she lay,
only foreign men lying to her,
telling her it was okay.

Years went on by,
the destruction of our say,
the blood of the ******,
is now in our vein.

Their newest family,
yells that nothing will ever change;
we cause nothing but issues,
"Just shut up and assimilate,"
Mamie Hogan Nov 2020

I approached and
this ghost came readily:

her long hair
tied in early years

In summer passed the footsteps
of her father, her sisters who
locked at all times
the house


fell in love

Sunny, overcome to prove
the validity
of a plane crash in 1942

Sunny states that she moved beyond time
I find the love that she spent
surrounding the alleged spirit

the long hair
her own gold locks
the question


the ghost lived
that she would come back
spend the rest of her 20 memories
stay the night

or two or

the smell the
worsening pain
reached the floor


her long hair
lifted in the air she

met her shocked face
10 feet away

touched her own mystery

rushed and let and
heard the piano play on
in a room from
every light in time



I find myself leaning
I am first to cry
the stories
the ghost
the ever-present opportunity

the full-moon-glow of just:

a house.
This is an erasure of an article found in my college's weekly newspaper. The article was written by a skeptical student about the spooky legend of a house near our college campus.
Tryniti Jun 2020
Abandoned under the guise of self-sacrifice
How many times have you told these lies

A wonder to behold in your own right
Latching on, holding tight
I was lost the moment I got in your sights

A silver tongue with unmatched wit
Even the most dominant would submit
To your linguistic lashings

Skilled in verbal maneuvers and molding minds
You reveled in being one of a kind

Sly, and slick, smooth and quick
Your trick was finding what made me tick

You made me yours, then slipped away
I was your toy, begging to play

But then you were done; tired I suppose
You disappeared, to where..god only knows

You played the martyr, a victim, a pawn
Suddenly all of your power was gone

I know better, but I still feel incomplete
The flavor of erasure is so bittersweet
Sol Apr 2018
The last few months have been horrible
like wind next to your voice
there isn’t any connection but lightning
the whole point is to do better
than the ones that don’t have control
the crowd put a border around you
someone will encourage you to just give up
You’re being buried under thousands
of other people talking.

It’s better safe than sorry. Say “Hello,
welcome” Ask them questions; don’t argue
You are not the best at this but try

Set up a stream. Watch it set.
someone may join, keep going.
even when things go wrong.
Source material:
Ryder McEntyre Aug 2016
Don't get me wrong,
I'll hold your silence
That you gave them.

It's not my noise to
Expel, knowing dams
May release a torrential
Frond that I now choose
Not to facilitate.

You needed me,
But I needed you
Much more, but
If I wasn't awake

This might be too familiar,
All the lights are on, it's my fault.
I fell asleep again, too awake,
Leaving lonely sheets to bake
In a morning light no one appreciates
We're both gone, and there's no one
Who knows your power unfolding
Across hapless subjects of your
Own design.

We will be erased.
At least to me, every new innocence broken,
Crashing against rocks of jealousy, tied to
A dock built out of false promises to myself
Begging the question, how do I begin again?
all i do is narcissistic ~ why dont u love me ~ poetry but like look @ my love life tbh its all i got
Madison Y Sep 2015
You thought it'd be so easy to love a girl made of paper—
Crumple her mind in your fist, leave your mark on her vacant skin.
You were threatened by her lightness, by the staunch white;
Told yourself she'd be better for the splotch of color, even thank you one day.
Her edges would be thin, barely breaking skin if she cut you back—a quick sting and it's over,
no lasting scars.
Little did you know ink flows through her veins—
Miles and miles of words sharper than your scissors raging through arteries,
Pounding in her ears, crashing like waves against her teeth.
You thought it'd be so easy to burn a girl made of paper—
You tore her open only to drown.
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