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Grey Dec 2019
I try
So hard
To be perfect.

And yet
I fail
Every time.
Lia Nov 2019
Dust filters through their fingers,
each grain slowly slipping away.

Pushing forwards
And feeling the strong repel of backwards.

All that remains now are the ashes
of the dreams that you let die.
Malia Nov 2019
Decay, degenerate
Rot in hell from all this hate
Lessen, languish, lower, regress
Back to when I was a mess
Sink, slide, undermine
I don’t think I was ever fine
Fade, fail, fall apart
I wasn’t “okay” from the start.
When you’re so messed up you make online thesaurus results dark.
maria Nov 2019
to fall in love again
to forgive
to trust
to not care.
I tried to try

I failed
I'm not trying anymore

Written on November 04, 2019
Àŧùl Nov 2019
Islamic State's Big Daddy
Is dead.
He blew himself up like a coward,
When a K9 agent crept up to him.

Not really like a real daddy
He died.
The coward also blasted his own kids,
Worse than Osama, time killed him.
My HP Poem #1791
©Atul Kaushal
Robby Oct 2019
You are unsatisfiable unpleased and unhappy
Forever wandering
I’m done trying to be what you want
I’ve tried despite what you say

You may wander wherever you see fit
I won’t chase you any further
My heart has moved on to its next unattainable goal
Making myself happy
Jeremy Rascon Oct 2019
Some days I wake up
                                                                  Mind torn from    
                                                           stress dreams
                                                                And no desire to breakdown
                                                                             On campus.
                                                                  So I skip class.
                                                        Trapped in my mental jailcell
                                                I dissect my compulsive thoughts
                                                      Only to see they stitched
                                                               Themselves back together
                                                             And are resistant to leave.
                                          On days I can grasp and hold my will
                                                                           I stew in class
                                                     Noticing my classmates
                                        Who speak louder than I do,
                                        Who answer questions more eloquently,
                                        And speak science fluently,
                                                               I am left to boil in my
                                                 Lack of voice, skill, and knowledge.
                                                             At the end of my first class
                                                                   I am already overdone,
                                             A husk goes to the remaining classes
                                                                                 For me.
                                                                     On days I wake up
                                                                                     Already
                                                                                  overwhelmed
                                                                        I skip class
                                                                                  To avoid
                                                                                                   Meltdown
                                                                      Fighting fire with Magma,
                                                                                this technique is
                                                                     purely self-destructive.
                                                                                           And I know it.
                                        Pressure builds like a volatile volcano…
                                                      I FAIL my classes and ERUPT
                                                   The peak that is my self esteem
                                      Shattered by emails from professors,
                                           The lava oozes down the slopes of Mt. Me
                                               “Maybe I don’t Belong  Here”
                                     Starts the a nearby tsunami forming
                                                                      Underneath my scalp
                                                           It gathers speed and force.
                                                           It decimates the cerebrum.
                                                                                       I have to rebuild...
                                              This land is recycled often
                       Tremors with magnitudes that match
                                                        My GPA
                                            Keep me vigilant and mindful
                                                               that collapse is part
                                                                       Of my nature                   The complex societies that are rebuilt within my mind always thrive
                                              ….at the beginning of next semester.
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