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shion Jul 2016
You were supposed to fix the broken pieces of my soul not scatter it across the galaxies in your eyes where your tears filled with shards of painful memories flooded  the starways. It baffles me how our love which started with emanating happiness ended in such glorious tragedy.
I'm pulsating with rage and confusion, but I'll instead apologize for my love wasn't enough to appease what your soul craved for.
I'm thankful for being a sadist because the pain im feeling right now is comparable to crawling on a field of razor blades tipped with a paralyzing  neurotoxin while being chased by your apparition wielding a sword that slowly slashes at what's left of my mangled soul while trying to dodge the knives that always end up in the depths of my heart.
Ugo Victor Jul 2016
I've lived off pressure
Ridden on expectant falls
Derided by some

I've been loved without measure
Tripped over some hearts
Hated by some

Whatever it is you do
There are expectations to flog you with
But always bear in mind
That humans
We never stop judging

Dressed in stereotypes
To our burial sites.
Denel Kessler Jun 2016
Ignore the veiled murmur beneath
the social graces and party conversation

excuse this bland ****** arrangement
feigning interest in tales worn thin
cruising the same old Memorial Parkway.

This, and the embedded gravel
marking each grim rotation:

expectation
disappointment
anger

the weight of relentless perfection.
Gemineyed Gypsy Jun 2016
Life is simpler without expectations.
He should, she should, you should, they should.
When did this world start turning so fast?

An inevitable pace for the human race,
With eyes closed, moving forward;
An unending circle of life spinning round and round.

Open your mind's eye to the inoperable pattern of resistance tearing our world apart.
Open your soul to the beauty that already surrounds you, to the peace already within you.
Open your heart to a love that's greater than the winds of rage.

End the war upon yourself.
Set your spirit free.
Focus on the tides of change.
© 2016 Gemineyed Gypsy
All rights reserved.
Intellectual property of the author.
Katie Katie Jun 2016
A new species still being studied-

They have a compulsive obsession with mutilating their bodies
They yank out hairs in the place on their face made for expression
Daily they scrape off natural hairs from their limbs
And from under them, considering the act as simple hygiene practice

Some will even lay in a chamber of radiation to cook skin browner
And smear a smelly cream to make the skin look slimy shiny and '****'
They scorch their head hair to change the texture for a day
And they draw on their faces with crayons made from wax and oils

They prioritize displaying of the body shape over movement
With their tight denim body coverings and waist clinchers
They wear coverings of their feet with a stick replacing the heel
To look physically attractive, despite the injuries and lesions

They're expected to keep a casing over their chest tissues in public
They hide their pheromones with alcohol and fake smell of plants
They keep private and hidden that they perform excretory acts
And they're never content with the meat casing they're trapped inside

Only (almost) satisfied looking at their reflection and seeing a lie
Louise Ruen Jun 2016
I breath in, I breath out
The cold air is filling up my lungs, and I haven't slept i n a month
So I keep going on, because life's rushing by me,
and I can't figure out it's joy or denial, but I could use a good party, to drink my self senseless
No one will let me in.

Soon I'll be under a different sky, start a new life.
I'll not quit the act.
Perfection is haunting me, along with expectations of who I should and shouldn't be.
Tell me, do the best or worst things lin life come for free?

Just make me feel good for once.
Just make me forget for once.
Make me know what it feels like to be discovered, when you're uncovered.
Tell me, how does it feel to dance freely for once?
How it feels when you scream out your lungs like,
no one could every hear you,
break you,
see you,
catch up with you.
Is it good?

I breath in, I breath out.
Not quit the act.
Drink myself senseless.
Haunting me.
Under a different sky.
Wrong or right?
I'm so overwhelmed with all the positive response I've been getting on my last few poems. THANK YOU.
Louise Ruen May 2016
She was raised to win, to bear the crown
Raised to ignore the weight wearing her down,
because happy girls, yeah, they don't cry

She lived to please others
She lived to aim other's expectations, and knew she could never be, who she truly is
Taught that success is the key to everything, and that success is only measured in a fancy career, money or power.
But happy girls, yeah, they don't cry.

And they all say that she'll go far
"She has her life all figured out", they say with admiration
Because supergirls, yeah, they just smile

Little do they know,
that when she gets home
She'll write down her real dreams and thoughts,
just to throw in a draw
because supergirls, yeah, they just smile

So tell me,
don't you know, that it's our fatal flaw,
to honestly believe,
that people aren't real human beings?
With dreams and aspirations that aren't considered "smart"
With emtions and tears they can't express without being considered weak

I guess we'll never realize
Because happy girls don't cry,
and supergirls just smile
Know that you don't have to be strong all the time. Know that you can rebel. Know that it's okay to cry and be unhappy, no matter what society tells.
Little do they know that I'm she.
Marte Lindholm Oct 2016
She was so tired
of all the expectations
so when he stood there
with his hand reached out
she saw no other way to go.

She breathed in deeply
reached her hand out
without knowing that
what seemed like a way out
was her last breath in life.
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