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Isaak Thompson Jun 2019
Some time in may
Last year, 2018
It was a warm day
I was thirteen

You said you didn't want me
Anymore
You broke my heart and changed me
But that's not the end

I thought I'd never finish
Being thirteen
To die was my dearest wish
But I turned fourteen

You may have broke my heart
But it fixed on its own
You messed me up real smart
Now my hearts on airplane mode

Won't let anything in
That includes memories of you
I'm going to win
I will forget how I loved you

You you you you you
On my mind
Me me me me me
Please be kind

To yourself
You're still alive
Look at you
Heart still going

My heart's on airplane mode
At least it's still beating
Living on my own
No more feeling
Thought I'd be dead by now really I did pretty proud I'm still here hehe
Jack L Martin Sep 2018
was uttered in a
computer generated,
non-demeaning,
gender neutral tone
by the impersonal,
unemotional,
automated,
grocery checkout machine.

"Enter your customer ID now!"
demands the artificial human.

"And... if I don't?"
I query the metallic shell
of what once was
a minimum wage employee.

There was no reply.
Carmella Rose Jun 2018
why’d i stop celebrating?
or even blowing candles?
or hoping that people would say sweet words
on the day that i was born

it was too toxic for me
too much people smiling
when they only want to eat the food
in my feast
and leave without
saying a word

gifts too genuine and expensive
but do they make me happy?
no cause money
is false hope of happiness

i tried to smile
for everyone stay strong
but why did everyone changed
as my age differs a single digit

i miss the old parties were
i could only be laughing
full of joy
but now it is full of
lies, my laughs
that you hear
are very pretentious
people change, as time passes by, and i’m left alone with the memories of the past, when i was the happiest now i am the saddest , yesterday i turned 15 and i felt too lonely that i couldn’t take it, so i took a slice of the cake and ate it with the stars that can’t be seen in a rainy night.
Summer is
far as I think,
it flickered when
I blink
dreaming of
nostalgic
no winter,no autumn.

Maybe,you're written
in a next page,
I am the half
of your gut,
in every torn paper
and scratches,
how many times
it took a relevance?
like i'm dreaming
of "if you are mine?"
Dori Sep 2017
You sit there on the edge of your bed at seventeen wondering where the hell it all went wrong.
Growing up didn’t seem so awful until you realized that eventually you’re going to fall in love with a beautiful girl, and she’s going to tell you she loves you back but not until she loads her gun.
So you keep sitting there, at the edge of your bed, praying that she loves the color of your eyes more than she loves the smell of the flowers she’s going to place at your grave.
But she doesn’t.
She never did.
So at seventeen, you decide to jump.
You jump off your bed and the fall seems to go on forever.
But your bed was never a bed, it was the pedestal she had you on for fifteen months and you finally had the courage to take that leap of faith and free yourself.
Except freedom isn’t freedom if you’re still shackled up and chained at the bottom of the oceans in her eyes and helplessly addicted to the satin feel of her skin. You scream and scream, but nothing can break the silence.

That’s when you realize she pulled the trigger and didn’t even kiss you goodbye.
12-15-14
I wasn't there when you died.
Though its clear now that it was your time
You were 14 and had dementia, half deaf, and half blind.
Not to mention the arthritis.
Still doesn't hurt any less

I still feel your soft black and white fur
The feeling when you blessed us with a kiss
Your chocolate brown eyes

When you were a puppy
I remember you losing your teeth
Except you didn't have a tooth fairy

I remember you climbing onto the widow seat
I still have that picture.
No idea how you even got up there.

One week before Fudge died,
It was a normal friday for me
I went to work, had a great day.
I came home and wondered where you were.
My mom had put you down and taken Fudge to the vet hospital
December 9th, 2016
I didn't realize that morning was the last time I would see you.
F**k. I love you Cleo
December
2 pm
We drive up to the building
It seems solemn now
We came to see you for the final time

December 15th
2:05 pm
We gather our courage to get out of the car
I open the door
Its heavy

December 15th, 2016
2:10 pm
We're ushered into the room where you are
You try to get up to reassure us
We know you're in pain

Thursday, December 15th, 2016
2:11-2:16
I'm holding you now
I have your favorite stuffed animal

Thursday, December Fifteenth, 2016
At 2:20 pm
The vet tells us to tell him that you are a good boy
"You're the best dog I could have ever had, Fudge. I'll love you forever."

On Thursday, December Fifteenth, Twenty sixteen.
At 2:24 P.M.
You died in my arms.
The happiness and relief you had in your eyes.
You were in so much pain.
I love you. Forever
Fudge was 6 years old, he was going to be 7 years on March 8th of this year. He died December 15th of Peritonitis. Fudge was in training to be my service dog and help me out when that wire was in his intestines, he was the one who really needed help, but he didn't want me to worry. He was in pain for months and didn't try to tell us. He was the best dog I could have ever had. I love him.
Jo Mar 2017
When I was fifteen, there were only three more years
until I could leave.
I numbered the days like some people count calories
or steps
or breaths
onetwothreefourfivesix
counting until there was no air left.
Out of breath, out of step, out of line,
one more time;
try a little harder,
push a little faster,
be a little better, a little stronger,
smarter
sweeter
tougher.
Braver.

I'd spin in circles until I was dizzy,
around and around andaroundaroundaround
before starting all over.
Out of control, too fast to ever really stop.
And then back to the beginning again
where I first began,
reduced to less than nothing,
just a slip of the person I'd hoped to become.

When I was fifteen, life was a game
where there were winners and losers
and then people who didn't ever quite make it.
Neither a winner, nor a loser,
neither a hero nor an enemy,
just nothing at all.

I ran around, afraid of everything,
hoping if I ran fast enough, whatever was lurking in the shadows might never catch me
consume me.
I ran until one day, I slipped and fell down the rabbit hole,
past where anyone could see
or hear
or reach.
I fell through the cracks I sidled around everyday walking home from school,
books in one hand,
memories in the other,
clinging to both for dear life.

I was just a sprig with dead leaves and a damaged stem,
no petals or blooms,
flowerless,
my roots growing in the wrong direction, defying gravity.
Empty hands reaching up into the air,
grasping for something to pull me back to earth,
push me forward into the world.
Desperately searching for something to believe I was enough,
believe I was worthy.
Believe I wasn't a mistake,
a surviving **** in a blossoming garden.
Hoping.

When I was fifteen, there were only days
weeks
months
Every minute accounted for
yet all forever lost in one sleepless dream,
in one fell swoop.
Time lost, standing still, forgotten,
my watch the only thing keeping each day from running into the next.

I am not fifteen, anymore.
I have found my roots,
my time,
my place,
It's safe, it's home.
There's hope.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Time is not forever,
but neither is this.

It'll be okay.
You'll be okay.
AJ James Aug 2016
Daydreams about my future
consumed my fifteen year old mind,
if only I was informed that eight years later,
I'd still be daydreaming about my future.

Daydreams about my future
consisted of joy and freedom
if only I was informed that eight years later,
I'd still be restrained and joyless.

Daydreams about my future
so misleading to think I would be successful
eight years later and I still question if this
pain will ever cease to exist.

Daydreams about my future,
a world full of fairness that celebrates brightness
not this mess of confused individuality where
anonymity is the new frontier.

Daydreams about my future,
gave me hope that one day I would find the acceptance
I so desperately craved
Eight years later and I'm still hungry.

Daydreams about my future,
reprieve from the torment from my peers.
who would have known, that eight years later
my peers would still misunderstand me.

Daydreams about my future,
the place I withdraw and hide in.
Eight years later and I'm still stuck
in daydreams about my future.

Daydreams about my future,
a hopeless concept my young mind created
to pretend that reality is nonexistent
Eight years later and my reality is still choking the life from me.

Daydreams about my future,
the only thing that keeps me going,
eight years later and I'm still relying on a lie
to get me through this life until it's time to die

Daydreams about my future,
who would have known that I would be so naive to stay here
Eight years later, my twenty-three year old mind has
disappointed my fifteen year old self.

Daydreams about my future,
are all I have left.
Eight years later and I'm still here,
daydreaming about my future.
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