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Jay Jul 2018
I want to tell you how much I hate you
But really, I can't-
I love you too much.
And in the end,
of all of the lessons you've ever taught me,
It's that words don't really matter.
Nothing I ever did mattered.
Art fades.
Words are empty.
Promises are meaningless.
I hope he makes you *** more than I ever could.
I hope he buys you flowers more than once a month.
I hope he gets you farther away from this town
where dreams die
than you could have ever hoped for.
I hope you call him handsome
and that you think he's pretty.
Like I had to beg for.
I hope the only thing bigger than his member
is his bank account.
I hope he calls you exactly when you need him to
not always
like I used to do.
I hope you never block him out
and give him the love that you're truly capable of.
Because I never got it.
I hope you heal his wounds and
kiss him while he's asleep in your arms
because there's no place you'd rather be.
I hope that you feel the way about him
that I used to feel about you.
I hope he calls you his princess,
his dolly,
his 3 a.m.
I hope you scream "daddy"
into the blackness of your trash bag
darkened basement.
The one you used to lock me in and complain
that we never did anything.
I hope you give him all of the truths
you weren't willing to give me;
and that you mean them.
I hope you never get your heart broken.

I so much want for you to have someone
that doesn't have any responsibilities
other than you.
Because you need someone
that doesn't have lifelong friends
or a connection with their family
or worries about whether or not thier
future will be brighter than their past.
I hope he picks out a favorite freckle.
And I hope it's not the same one as me.
And if it is, I want him to love it more than I ever did.
When you argue,
which you will,
because that's who you are,
I hope he knows how to accept your anger.
Your hurt.
Your torment

and unhappiness.

The way I might have
if I was a stronger or smarter man.
The way way I do now that you're gone.

I was never your number one.
You were.
And that's what's important
in a world full of people trying to hurt you.

I've had nightmares
every single ******* night
since I lost you.
But those are not half as bad
as the good dreams my brain likes to create
to play tricks on me-
where 'forevers' meant something
and nothing mattered but each other.

Yeah, I'm a natural-born ******* loser.
I'm fat,
crying,
and screaming.
A *******-born child
to a family that didn't want me
except for one.

When you told me you cared
that you wanted to kiss me,
**** me,
love me,
while your boyfriend was
in another town
and I believed you-
that was my first mistake.

Because you can't really love
two people at once,
especially when the only person you've ever really loved is you.

Either way.
I hope you get what you need.
Because my mind
heart
body
and
stupid pitiful
******* soul
was never enough.
And it never will be.

How many more until you're full?

I hope you find the one
that wasn't me.
And that he can buy you
that house in California
on the beach.
The one with the white picket fence.
Far from yourself
and everything you've ever known.
You took from me everything that you could steal.
Four ******* years of meaningless torture
words
and
abuse.
Brent Kincaid Jul 2018
Dear Donald, wait. strike that.
You cattle rustler in a black hat,
You cheated and you lied to us
On just about a daily basis.
You made a list of promises
Of what you would do for us
But you did the exact opposite
Meaning not a single word of it.

Half of us settled on you to be
The man with enough responsibility
To make our country great but yet
There wasn’t much wrong with it.
We can’t say that today, can we?
You and your cabinet detest reality.
You make claims and even worse
Most of what you say is in reverse.

Now you’re off kidnapping kids
With no shame for what you did.
You steal babies and fly them away
And charge voters a thousand a day!
And if that wasn’t far enough off track
You charge parents to get them back.
Then you insist someone else is to blame.
Ugly man, why no sense of shame?

You have taken our country down.
You went from an political clown
To an arch criminal like we’ve never seen.
For decades you smiled in glossy magazines.
Now you’re applauding dictators and
Your cabinet is a robber baron’s band.
You deserve to be put into a prison
If any of our lawmakers had wisdom.

So, this is your Dear Donald letter
Bad motor scooter, and a worse go-getter,
Telling you a ferocious goodbye.
Take it as a fact, and don’t lie.
If there is a bit of integrity remaining,
We’ll **** on you and tell you it’s raining.
Gale L Mccoy Jul 2018
began with the end of your sentence
the dredges at the bottom of the mocha
fool yourself into thinking
you are not running on less than nothing
accept it doesn’t make sense
read the symbols you find
at the bottom of your reservoir
day 1 of 31 days of poetry challenge
Tyler Matthew Jul 2018
Get me out of this suit,
for ****'s sake.
I look like
some flashy bird of paradise,
but I feel like I'm in hell.
Feel like I'm a far cry
away from myself.
Maxim Keyfman Jun 2018
I want to become like everyone else
Everyone says I'm a loser
I want to be like you
Everyone says I'm dumb
I do not want to be me
I just want to find peace
I just want to find peace
I just want to find peace
I just want to find peace

Everyone was tired of my freaks
They say I behave like a fool
Everyone bored my clothes
They say I look like a clown
I do not want to be me
I just want to find peace
I just want to find peace
I just want to find peace
I just want to find peace

2016
Irina BBota Jun 2018
What kind of fool am I
to believe that I own the sun
in tenderhearted, enchanted mornings,
singing a ballad of a worried prisoner
who has secret storms in his blood,
and his sweet melody is calming down
my storms and my distress...

What kind of fool am I
to believe that I once lived in a castle,
and til the morning of the midnight
I was reading tales of the darkest knight,
but then... a strange voice through a cloud
called me “the unearthly child”, out loud...

What kind of fool am I
to believe that the grass is my pillow.
I'm like a downhill dreamer,
walking barefoot in the park,
hand in hand,
waiting to be called into
the Promised Land,
saying the holy vows of Heaven...

What kind of fool am I
if I dreamt the sky burning
as I walked on midnight's alley,
feeling dispossessed of the
sweet things that seem so far...

What kind of fool am I
if I play the game of survival
in the longest season of rain and lightning,
if I take a second glance at life
and catch that amazing moment
when two wrongs can make a right
and don't want to give up, not without a fight.

Well, I must say:
I'll get through all the barriers one day,
even if I end up being the last star from the left,
cause love... will always make me sail like fool,
as long as I'll breath
the miracle of life in my chest.
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