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Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
Yesterday was sour, so today will be sweet.
Today was bitter, so tomorrow will be neat.
I just have to hold on tight.
Slide down 1,2,1,2.
And I know I'll be alright,
but fixing this is something I can't do.

I've been cursed a gruesome pain. I must spend odd days feeling insane. But even, my smile will be on the other days. Still is it worth the tragedy it pays? If I could run from fate, I wouldn't wait. I'd go so far away. I wouldn't look back any day.
I was writing, but I'm sick and sleepy, so I don't know if it's good or not.
Jayanta Apr 2014
Sit by a river,
Inquiry about flow!

Look at sky
Think about infinity!

Travel in a forest
Look at the relationship!
Reveals, how tiny and pitiable we are
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
I drank the alcohol, expecting something.
boy was I let down, when I got nothing.
No silly laughter, or grand horror story.
No youtube video, or easy talk for me.
Just a headache or two and a feeling of suffocation.
Just a scolding from people, and a dizzy sensation.
The bottle looked nice, and tv shows made it seem fun,
but after 3 gulps, I just felt like a street ***.
So I said goodbye to armpit beer,
and I assure no rose wine here.
*** is for pirates,
much too complicated for me.
I'm done with heartache alcohol,
as you can plainly see.
How do people even get addicted to that nasty stuff?
Mason Moreau Apr 2014
I am from toaster
From toaster strudel and bagels
I am from the small space with too many bodies
Cold, old, musty
I am from the acorn
The maple tree
Whose long limbs I remember
As if they were my own.

I’m from movie nights and slender fingers
From Hélène and Luc
I’m from thinking of the worst outcomes and crackling knees
And from moving forward

I am from finish your plate and don’t draw on the car
And twinkle, twinkle little star
I am from Canada
I am from Quebec
I am from being locked out of the house
And desperation
school poem, written in 2013
Daylight 4U2C Jan 2014
If you give a wishing stone,
she'll travel out all on her own.
She'll  leave behind the fear and pain,
and keep herself from going insane.
While her friends are getting diagnosed,
she'll be somewhere in her boat.
Maybe she'll have tea for two,
but at least she'll know what to do.
And they may ask, and plead, and beg to be in her world,
but she'll certainly say,
"Be gone, be gone, or off with your head."
Which should be said, since they cursed her be dead.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
she'll truly feel all alone,
and for those who never cared "be gone!"
The queen has finally sang her song.
She was never a fool, just a withered small bud,
and those pigs would throw her around in the mud.
So sure she dreams and dazes off,
but she can do whatever she wants.
She earned a bit of recognition,
for all antagonize and inhibition.
Give that girl some cheer,
she fought a war for all those years.
Stop the hate for her being crushed,
unlike some, she had no love!
The glass shattered hard,
it's no surprised it became shards.
Giving time and yells,
doesn't heal, it kills.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
you've given her one happiness finally of her own.
Daylight 4U2C Jan 2014
A wicked woman told my love, "**** him and you will be free."
My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me.
Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice.
I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free.
No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat.
So please my love, take your choice of my death. Choose what would be fit."
She didn't hesitate, just cry. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust.
I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch.
I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. Then I shut my own.
I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known.
A crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard.
"I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words.
I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know.
She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo.
I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid.
She always said, one day I'd trip.
And now I finally did.
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
What is wrong?
You don't sing the normal song.
Your tune is so off,
the words all seem so wrong.
You're losing your mind?
You're falling apart?
This can't be out of the blue.
Just when did this start?
What don't you understand?
I can't help, if I don't know.
                                                           ­           What is wrong?
                                                          ­                      I'm trying to explain,
                                                        ­                   and I don't know why,
                                                            ­           but I feel so very vain,
                                                           ­                what was the song,
                                                           ­            I used to sing?
                                                           ­             I'm trying so hard.
                                                           ­            I'm on shattered glass.
                                                          ­          I'm holding these rocks,
                                                          ­       no, boulders of the past.
                                                           ­       I cry out to you,
                                                            ­    but what could you do?
                                                             ­       I'm so scared.
                                                         ­               I'm not strong.
What is wrong?
Please tell me what's wrong?
Why are you scared?
I know, you're not strong.
I don't know how to save you.
I'm no hero, you know.
I'm trying so hard to help you,
but I'm stuck in the front row.
We all love you,
just please,
tell us just what is it you need?
So that we can help you,
and heal as you bleed.
                                                          ­ What is wrong?
                                                          ­     I've changed.
                                                        ­          I'm running from my life.
                                                           ­                I've lost that 'optimistic' me.
                                                             ­           Now who am I left to be?
                                                        Have I fallen like an angel?
                                                          ­           Or am I still on earth?
                                                          ­              Why is pain so painful?
                                                        ­                   Just when did I disperse?
                                                       ­                 Where am I,
                                                              ­        if i'm not here?
                                                            Somehow I just disappear?
                                                      ­            I'm unstable.
                                                       ­                  Save me.
                                                             ­   Save me.
                                                             ­        Save me.
                                                             ­         I plead.
                                                          ­    Tell me the answer I really need.
What    is    wrong-                                      with me?
anonymous Apr 2014
I'm not an option
Or a second choice
I'm in your life or not
I don't want to be a hidden voice
My friendship was a gift
Not a game
From then, you'll meet fake friends
But i warned you, what a shame
They'll replace you
The second you put a foot wrong
You should've of stayed with me
You should've held on.
Ady Oct 2013
There was nothing in this vast landscape of delusions, only illusions.
A flower, a friend, a gift, a betrayal, a tear, a shattered mirror and perdition.
The music of the euphoric nothingness enticing the darkness,
calling for the shadows, everlasting, never ending.
I know, I deserve this. Always threw the stone and looked the other way,
the sin, the penitence, the lament, the void, the shallowness, the meaningless.
Living each day a moribund marionette moving through the crowd an empty mess.
The ticking, the hunger, the instrument, the mending of the ending,
but then came you. An unexpected gaze wondering through my maze.
Navigating each passage as if though you knew the way, a hindrance.
Let me corrode here please, go away, I thought. I never said it.
You remained here almost an embodiment of the hope I sought for so long,
Perhaps this is another of my creations, a desire from the dire.
Your hands are tepid, driving the frigidness away, maybe it's real?
An hour, a day, a week, a period of time slowly passes.
You are hope, my hope, my desire, my wish, my light and gentle day.
I found the impatient clock fast-forwarding each hour until the time had come,
to see one another.
Your world was intriguing and vivid everyday was fun, every night a pain.
Without a warning you brought the richness of the paint in to the callousness of mine.
The sky once again blue, the birds with songs, the grass now green my world anew.
Mere words such as “i love you” can't paint paint the picture, for it was more.
And yet here I am again. Alone.
Alive, not dead, back on the path to my journey.
Collecting, standing, walking and eventually running through the paradox.
Anew, exhumed, hope plastered once again against my chest,
and as I cry, tumble, fall and learn;
Each days is new, each meeting a joy and each moment thanking you.
Good-bye! I bid farewell to you, let our past be remembered beautifully,
and the present lived and the future build, as once again;
I construct, destroy, collapse, laugh and dream.  
As today the ticking resumes and I commence from where I stopped.
Miss Johansen Mar 2014
I left my home and the feeling cannot be described
I left everything I have ever known for this completely unpredictable adventure
Being an international student is a wonderful struggle

— The End —