Xaha 4d
Each passing day I spend with you
Feels like borrowed time.
Two people pretending to be in love,
A hopeless pantomime.

You played me well,
I must admit.
Uncovered all my flaws.

But something in how you did -
Ended our dialogue.
It wasn’t to heal or help me up
It was just to tear me down.
And now that you’ve exposed the truth
The queen lays down her crown.
Simpathi Feb 14
You’re holding back,
Afraid of effects.
It will never last,
Not if you left.

I know it’s hard,
I’ve felt it too,
I’ve seen your scars,
But I still want you.

Yeah you’ve got problems,
But I’m not counting.
Ignored as I saw them,
But you never found me,

Taking a glance,
Only a peek.
But maybe by chance.
You’ll really see,

I’m not in for the feeling,
Just want you to be loved.
Cause you need the healing,
You need the hugs.

Don’t want the attention,
Unless it’s with you.
Cause you’re who I mention,
You are the glue.

You stick in my mind,
Like a rhyme on repeat,
Love every line,
Just makes me sing.
She makes her flaws become perfections... S.B. <3
solfang Feb 14
the toughest man I know,
will too, shed tears;
the prettiest lady once told me,
she too feels insecure;
the happiest friend laughed,
at the times she cheated death

I truly wonder
if the reason I'm flawed,
is to make me perfect
one day, someday.
Perfectly Imperfect
Kiahlee Feb 8
We've all been told "you're perfect just the way you are."
Then your no longer a shining star.
A day when Beauty became everything.
People told you your not pretty enough to do something.
Your told no one could love anyone like you.
People tell you this so often you start to think its true. ):
Being "Beautiful" becomes part of your life.
Putting on makeup becomes a strife.
Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram.
Hiding behind a screen.
Where people hide behind filters and Photoshop.
You start to wear clothes that are uncomfortable like crop tops.
You feel good about the comments of how beautiful you are.
You once again feel like a shining star.
Drawing in hundreds of likes
You feel positive.

Until you are drawn back into reality,
School where people judge you on popularity.
No one compliments you on how you look.
So you hide behind a book.
You flip between pretty and not.
You wonder if your as pretty as you thought.

Then you meet the special someone in reality,
who cares only about your personality.
They could care less about popularity and likes.
They don't judge you by flaws.
They love you for who you are,
because your unique as a star.
They make you realize looks do not matter,
your built up wall starts to shatter.
Because its whats inside that counts.
Please like or comment. (:
mystiquemarie Jan 28
It's in the dark where appearances don't matter,
it's a place where your thoughts define who you are.

Not to be silenced because of a flaw on your skin;
not to be silenced for being too fat or too thin.

It's in the dark where the flower of closed-minds open;
illuminating genuine and raw emotions.

It's in the dark where this flower is all that you can see,
surrounded by nothing but love and purity.

When we see darkness,
we instantly assume we are blind;
but truth is, it is in the dark that we see clearly
of the importance to what defines mankind.
Rykha Jan 25
His silly talk,
And his awkward walk;
His crooked smile,
And his old-school style;
His fears, his scars and other little foibles,
They make him perfect, his flaws and all;
I love them; no doubts, no blurs—
In the same way he loves hers.
Amanda Jan 25
I struggle with my selfishness,
The seriousness of my disease,
My grasp on things is premature,
My thoughts still do whatever they please.

Inside my mind it begins to pour,
And although I scurry from the rain,
My worry leaves no place to hide,
Nothing to crouch behind to keep me sane.

It seems I always return to this place,
Where all the moments I earn I set free,
I wait for burned bridges to re-emerge,
And somehow undo the damage in me.

I still reside within my own skin,
Feeling emotion against my will,
Outside I spill a few tentative words,
But the ocean of guilt is hard to kill.

I'm pestered by the knowledge of my flaws,
Endlessly listed in my reflection,
They appear when I pause and catch myself,
In the mirror without perfection.

They dig their way beneath my nails,
And splinter into my self-esteem,
Everyday loathing is the price I pay,
To keep at bay these fraying seams.
We all have insecurities. I tried to use more rhyme and it does sound badass but it was a lot of work to make it sound good.
Simpathi Jan 10
There’s something in the air,
I cannot conceive but force to bear.
The moments in my head seem to fade away,
Along with the events that occur in the day.

No pressure is oppressed, not one, none at all.
But I’m compelled to express that something so small,
It’s lingering in my head, a small hidden flaw.
I lack what is pure and I know that is true.
But as you learn who I am, It seems that it’s you.

No thoughts are unspoken, not one are untold.
But as I notice the world, it seems they are bold.
The sky tears apart what holds on to our hearts,
But the friendship is so strong, it cannot break apart.

The struggles, the issues, that take place every day,
Are just an example of another rainy day.
The judgements handed down mean nothing to me now.
They only inspire to keep my everlasting vow

There’s a subtle emotion that I just can’t ignore.
It’s the thing deep inside of me I have to implore.
As I compare myself to others, I only feel lame.
But everyone’s better at some skills in life’s game.

Hidden treasure to be found, the words yield, but are subtly shown.
And as I realize it now, I’m not really alone.
I’ve written my story, who’s out there to read it?
Is there one person out there, is he destined to heed it?
An old poem from months ago when I began to get into poetry...
shauna-leigh Jan 6
People bang on the windows of the monkey’s glass cage,
They’re hoping to scare it.
They think it’s funny to watch something innocent
scared out of its mind
then again, why do people watch horror movies.

People bang on the windows of the monkeys glass cage,
And watch it run around.
It yells, pleading for the people
“make it stop, make it stop.”
But the monkey can’t speak,
So the people just laugh.

The monkey runs towards them with a look of anger in its eyes
A look of rage.
It bangs back on the window.
The people laugh still.
They laugh as though being trapped in a dungeon is a joke.

Then the zoo closes and the people go home.
The monkey goes to bed.
But the monkey knows it will happen again the next day,
and the monkey has to live with that because no one hears it when it asks:
this is really not very good. I apologise
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