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The Unsung Song Mar 2018
There is little chance for me,
to become something even close to a fantasy.
There is no chance for me,
to become something that my mother will love to see.

These are the thoughts that my mind swims around in,
constantly.

Every time I look in the mirror,
I bring this doubt into my mind that I will ever be,
enough.

The sixth article of the Universal Declaration of HUMAN RIGHTS states that,
every human on this planet,
has the right to recognition everywhere as a,
person,
before the law.

I believe that the phrase,
"before the law"
should be changed because,
we have changed.

In a different time,
this would have made complete sense,
when the law was held as more of a social construct.

But nowadays,
both men and women are judged,
not for their actions,
but for their appearance as well.

This idea that,
even though we are specs on this planet,
we are impermeable to another's words is,
appaling.

This idea that,
because we are individuals,
we cannot love someone else's difference is,
astounding.

These are the ideas that make us think,
that we are not enough.
make me think,
that we are not enough.

We are filled with this,
want to become something better,
but instead of being better,
we fall down the ladder,
and into this abyss that is filled with black goo,
and this black goo becomes our soul.

It becomes the way we act,
the way we speak,
the way we breathe.

This black goo of endless torture.
It will be the end of humanity.

It will not be the end of life,
but the end of kindness,
the end of happiness,
the end of empathy,
and at that point,
is living really worth it at all?
If you think you are worthless, please read.
Tiana Marie Mar 2018
How can we breathe
in a society that
is constantly squeezing
our throats?

How can we walk
in a world that
is constantly chaining
our legs?

How can we be
in a place that
is constantly telling
us no?

"No," it says,
"That job isn't
enough for you to
survive."

"No," it says,
"Those clothes aren't
enough for you to
win him."

"No," it says,
"That thing isn't
enough for you to
impress."

"No," it says,
"You are not ever
enough to amount to
anything."

Well, I think it's time
we say "No" back.
jess Feb 2018
Why do we find ourselves to be failures if we don’t want to be what our parents expect?
Even though it’s beyond your standards of successful.
You are not a failure if you don’t reach someone else’s standards.
Even then, you are not a failure if you weren’t able to succeed in your own.
Because no matter how rich, how happy, how successful, or even how famous you may become;
There’ll always be people whispering in your ear, bringing down your confidence and telling you there’s more you could do to improve yourself.
No…
You don’t need anyone’s limits to define your own.
As long as what you do or what you’re aspiring to become or what you’re passionate about makes you happy and is good enough for you.
There is no need for improvement.
And no matter what, you are not a failure.
No matter what anyone else says.
You are good enough.
-j.p.
basically just gonna post a bunch of old stuff from tumblr lol.
Eleanor Jan 2018
A poet is:
Someone who makes the ugly, beautiful.
Someone who makes the beautiful, obscure.
Someone who makes the obscure, understandable.
Someone who makes the understandable, amazing.
A poet is:
Someone who uses words, to make art.
Someone who looks at art, and sees a story.
Someone who looks at a story, and sees a purpose.
Someone who sees a purpose, and uses it.
A poet is:
Someone who sees hatred, and writes hatred.
Someone who sees love, and writes love.
Someone who feels sad, and writes sad.
Someone who sees kindness, and writes kindness.

A poet can be anyone.
A poet can write about anything.
A poet can be implicit.
A poet can be explicit.
A poet can be hidden.
A poet can be famous.

You can be a poet.
The only rule is to write.
Poems are hard to define. You can write poems to express feelings or just to appreciate the things around you. You can write a poem on some paper or on a computer or in the sand, it doesn't matter. You can show people or keep it to yourself. The important thing is that when you you write a poem it's impossible not to be good enough because that poem is for you and only you. The world is lucky if they get to read it.
Eleanor Dec 2017
Am I good enough?
No.

I tell myself that I am not good enough.
I'm not good enough for my art teacher,
I'm not good enough for my french teacher,
I'm not good enough to be recognised,
I'm not good enough for my peers.

I'm not good enough for my friends,
I'm not good enough for my boyfriend,
I'm not as good as my brother,
I'm not good enough at my passions.

How can I be expected to believe in myself
when I have always been told that
I'm not good enough?
Supported by the few times I have believed in myself,
I have failed and been completely crushed.

I have taught myself to fear failure.
Jay Apr 2016
one: for as long as im empty, filled with no love,
there can be no one, to die for my blank parts

two: my heart doesnt need mending
for i am only as broken as i will trust

three:  no one can possibly save me
if i dont have the will to be saved

four: im not a form of entertainment
and it really needs to stop
because i am not a joke
waiting to be mocked

five: im not a sad poem
to trigger you like a gun
and sure as hell not someones last words
before they pull the trigger
forever to be numb

six:  i am not good enough
good god have i tried
because everyone only sticks around
for the pleasure to say their hurtful goodbyes

seven:  i crave attention
in the deepest of ways
like feeling the need
to push everyone out of my way

eight: im not just a poet
wrapped in a pretty bow

nine:  im a bundle of flaws
wrapped around your neck
powerful enough
to cause your own death

ten:  dont dare to try and think to break my heart
for i will turn your very own destruction
into a piece of art
Something Quiet Aug 2015
Sunlight, clocks, alarms:
They call for us, "Wake up!"
Convincing us to stumble out of bed,
Unwillingly,
As the bedsheets, the blankets, the pillows,
Are all we have.

Bosses, teachers, parents:
They call for us, "Now work!"
We persevere through the day,
Unwillingly,
Another coffee, another biscuit,
Are all we have.

Paperwork, homework, chores:
They call for us, "No rest!"
Barely surviving, we continue,
Unwillingly,
The hopes of evening, night, and stars,
Are all we have.

Eventually, it is another day over:
There is no cheer, only a sigh of relief.
We stumble to our beds, wondering,
Unwillingly,
When did we become,
Like this?
I didn't know what to post for my first poem... I guess this is okay?
dj Jul 2015
somehow liars are always ugly
I don't know how the universe does this
but **** am I right

you may not notice
(the pointy beak, acne and cancer moles)
but if you really really focus

somehow I'm right
-
Hanna Kelley Jun 2015
At age 8* my teacher would ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up, so I told her a fashion model.
She laughed and wrote it on the board.

At age 9 I wanted to be a doctor along with half of my class.

At age 10 I wanted to be a teacher, they all told me it takes a lot of education and I would have to work hard in order to get there.

at age 11 I wanted to be an artist, they told me to pick something more realistic so I said a singer.
They said to stop playing games and choose a job.

at age 12 I was pretty hooked on the idea of a singer, so I sang
And I sang
And I sang
Until I believed that I was good enough to be famous.

at age 13 I was so confident about my singing
Until I heard their voices.
Most of the girls in my choir were reaching the high notes and their tones were so clear.
I gave up on that dream.
I knew I wouldn't be like them.
So I began poetry.
This was the year I wrote my first poem "nobody cares".
I showed it to a few really close friends and my sister.
They said it was really good, it got them emotionally and that was what I was aiming for.
At first the poem was about 2 pages long but I cut it shorter every time I showed it people because they told me what parts didn't make sense to them.
I took it as a way to improve my poem.
So then I started posting it on quotev, and tumblr, and now hellopoetry.
I wasn't expecting anybody to like it.
I continued poetry and now it comes to me so easily, I can write poems like I'm writing my own name.

at age 14 I told my teacher I wanted to be a poet and he told me that
"I needed to improve"
At age 14 I didn't know what I wanted to be.
Nothing was good enough
Nothing was realistic enough
Nobody gave me enough support to go with my dreams.
At age 14 I decided that I wanted multiple jobs.
I still haven't told anyone because I already know what they're going to say.
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