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Iz Dec 2019
I’m 15
I lie more then periodically
I hate my family
I don’t care
if your great grandma is also Swedish
I like attention
Every time I swim I scream
underwater til my throat gets raw
I wanted to die before
I learned what *** was
It’s easier to starve myself than love myself
I think I could be pretty
I wonder what it’s like to trust someone enough to let them hold you
I want to let someone hold me
I’m afraid of my mind most nights
I want to go to college but
I am scared
of leaving high school
My parents expectations are the only thing preventing me from dying
I’ve been to a psych ward
and mistook it for  home
I miss when my family used to have harmony
I think I’m underwater
Since it feels like no one can hear me
I miss when lies were only about sneaking an extra mint
I want to live but anxiety fogs my future
I don’t want to be 15
I’m sorry for saying what I mean
I’m tired of hiding my truth
دema flutter Dec 2019
do not wait for the flower to bloom,
because when Spring comes around,
the flower will be too shy.
james Dec 2019
the medals on my chest weigh heavy
they drag me down
gold is hard to carry
when the glimmer gets old
trophy series-1
Ksh Nov 2019
I once bought a box of fresh strawberries
from the market
I've hated strawberries all my life,
but not because of how they tasted,
how they smelled,
or how they looked.
To be honest, I've never really eaten
a strawberry before;
but I just knew I'd hate it.
People think that it was just because
I was a picky eater;
that I wasn't up for trying new things.
I hated strawberries because
people thought all girls were supposed
to like them -- their taste, their scent.
All sweet and innocent and pure and nice.
I hated how they expected me to be
confined in a pink, dainty box,
expected me to like or smell like
fresh fruits and honey,
all sugary and giggly.
So I bought a box of fresh strawberries,
put one in my mouth,
and the rest in the bin.
I still hate strawberries,
but for more reasons now.
else Nov 2019
Trust me, I'm not insomniac.
Sleep is gold, but only a layman's dream
The night is the only time I can flee, be free,
Alive.
I can do what I love, not what you want me to.
Can't you just let me
Breathe?

What do you wish? What do you want?
I'm not your genie in a bottle,
I'm tired of playing as your Barbie doll,
I'm telling you– I need space, a place to
Breathe.

Just who are my tears and sweat for?
Who will gain the best at the very end?
A bright future? For whom? For me or...
For you?
Not me, it's not me.
You're choking me, constricting me.
Why don't you let me
Breathe?
I'm tired of others' expectations. I'm suffocating.
Jayda Smith Nov 2019
My expectations of you
Were for you to love me.
Genuinely. Unconditionally.
They were for you to protect me;
Instead you just overlooked me.
You ignored the signs.
You created your own reality.
Choosing to see what you wanted
Discarding the feelings unwanted.
You didn’t choose to be the saint.
Like you so desperately aspire to be.
You chose to be the sinner.
You chose to lie.
Manipulate,
Hate,
Hurt.

You started the generational discourse.
You were expected to teach love.
Instead you drilled hate,
Jealousy and strife.
Amid your own.
You’re the deceiver.
The devil.
The evil.
You aren’t my expectations.
You are my despair.
Empire Nov 2019
i don't wanna hear it
i want to fall
i want to lose whatever made me human
whatever created this
i want it gone
i'll abolish it
exterminate myself
i don't want to be saved
no... no don't weep, darling
i can't feel a thing
i want this
to just... slip
right out of grace
let go of life
let go of your detestable expectations
remember those?
you thought they'd make me better
make me good
but they broke me
do you understand?
i am broken
you did this
you broke me
and because i know you need it
to ease your nagging guilt
i don't want it

i don't want to be saved
just trying to feel something
TMReed Nov 2019
Initial here.
Pen your name
as they did,
as I did.

Now, sit still
and stay quiet.  
Focus on a point
if it helps,
hands buried
in your lap,
legs crossed
at your ankles,
mouth sewn
across your lips.
Let the plaster
steal your skin.

Shhh.
Don’t breathe
so loud.
Inside voices please.
Play by the rules.
Can’t you see
where we are?
Our garden of statues
deceives you.
Our garden of statues
has open ears.

Despite me, you speak,
you laugh, you sing
and pierce their stony skin
They hear you.
Everyone hears you.
Our garden of statues
slips away.

Screams smash
their balled fists
against their teeth,
against my teeth,
in our toxic wasteland.
Are you happy?
You’ve ruined it.
You’ve ruined me.

Now I hide my face
Cowering from thoughts
I pretend to know
And muttered curses
I pretend to hear
Why oh why
couldn’t you
stay your tongue?

We were happier in silence.
Sahana Oct 2019
Remember when, he
Called me on that rooftop night,
Just checking, to make sure
I got in—pulled me in for half a hug.
Joined me for a dance,
Thought about the time he
Told me that I’m so fun.
One last night out,
Young and free, before
Careers kick in and reality sets in.
It ended before I knew it,
On the car ride home,
Thinking about what coulda been,
He tells me he’s crying,
Begging me to stay—but
Saying yes is not an option.
Remembering when I found out,
He was reading the book I had,
Or felt he that fire in chest,
About our political crisis,
in a way like me,
In a way I hadn’t seen yet.
Spending so long settled in
The idea of a man lesser than &
Surprised to find the joy
In expanding my horizons,
Learning about my self imposed limits,
Watching them crumble in,
Realizing I am capable of
Every bit of the life I wanna live.
Found solace in the similar ways we think,
A sketchbook of drawings,
Connecting each & every limb,
Far far away
from spaced repetition.
Death by a thousand cuts
Ambition, something else
That I didn’t think I was looking for.
You took me by surprise,
Chelsea boots in that kitchen,
Didn’t ask me where i was from.
Between the bridges and lights,
Guitar riffs playing in the back
You grabbed my hand,
Spun me round, drink in another.
Kinda hated the smell of your breath,
The way you patted me on the head.
When you begged me to stay,
Under the night sky, every sway.
bhu Oct 2019
Talks were talks
Sometime, somewhere, not somebody

A minute after, fondness
Reflection of my naivety

To come were moments of easily dismissible presumptions
Devoid of intrinsic rationality

Then the gush of apprehension
Soaking me with doubts about my sanity

A minute before irrevocable acceptance
Good to finally meet you, reality

Talks are talks now
Sometime, somewhere with somebody
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