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mikey May 1
the beep beep makes me hardly do sit up
with some skins about to crack
open the laptop. write half of it
and cry over uncompleted tasks
wearing the clothes that is all black
******* snow, extremely ****** me up
The class is draining me so I’m gonna skip it
Stuck in the mindset thats make me wanna go basking
In the bed where I can fully go dreaming
Haylin Jan 30
Dear God of Study,
I put my brain in your hands
Help me pass all my exams!

I'll be good all year round,
help my GPA from crashing on the ground.

All I need is a curvy C,
because that's what'll get me my degree.

Help.
Theo Dec 2018
Dear God of Study,
I put my brain in your hands
Help me pass all my exams!

I'll be good all year round,
help my GPA from crashing on the ground.

All I need is a curvy C,
because that's what'll get me my degree.

Help.
Another Bad Poem Mar 2018
when you are worth
nothing more than a grade
to those
who should love you most
then what are you, really?

are you a man?
are you a boy?
are you a good son?
a good brother?
or just a number?
what are you, really?

what's the point
of trying hard
to please them all
because when you fail,
as you undoubtedly will,
then what are you, really?

a number, some letters
and expectations that grow
faster than the mind or the body
can hope to keep up with
lead to broken dreams
and without dreams,
then what are you, really?

just a rag doll, tossed from
person to person, clinging
desperately, hoping for a glimpse
of appreciation, of wanting, of
love and affection, because without that
then what are you, really?

they say
you must love yourself
before you love others
but when it seems
like nobody else loves you
it's quite impossible
to love yourself

because if they don't love you
then who could?
high school student
age 17
unweighted gpa: 4.0
weighted gpa: 5.286
accepted to college out of state
status: dead inside
Cat Fiske Aug 2015
My grandfather taught me things.
Things I didn't have to learn because I saw someone hooked up to a hospital machine,
But the tiny things that mattered,
Like how you should never play with you fork,
Because you could poke your eye out,
And while we're on the manner of table manners,
His constant hand grabs,
Moving plates and glasses,
Farther and farther in,
For a fear they may fall,
I was so curious of why even now when I'm not as small.
For now I wonder,
Is it so you don't fall,
So you feel safer,
Is this why u always push re plates in,
Have your little problems with everything,
And not afraid to share them with the world,
And try to push them to be perfect,
When you haven't figured out no one is,
I know that you see things in me,
No one else does that I don't even see,
All the potential and this future you constantly go on and on about,
And I think to my self what future,
But you don't give an inch,
And tell me I'm worth something,
That means something to me,
They say you don't chose your family
But I would of chose you still,
Your still going to be old and stubborn,
Like the old folks are,
But your unique in your pushy way,
That wouldn't of honestly made me care about you as much,
If you weren't the way you were,
I love you times every plate you pushed in at dinner,
To ever time you told me to stop playing with my fork when I was eating,
And nothing will change that,
Like nothing should ever change you,
And like you've taught me,
Don't change for anyone but you,
And to push myself to go the distance,
Un edited, staying with my gma and gpa so I figured why not, also why I haven't posted in a while, Ik its ******,
But My cuncussion symptoms have been though the roof latly
Sylvie Barton Nov 2014
i am sixteen
and my future lies
in my hands but its
being pulled and tugged at
by things like
scholarships
leadership positions
GPA
not such a straight path now, is it

i am sixteen
and discovering a new joy
stumbling upon
the passion you were always meant
to find
leaving the stagnant
for the bold and burning and enchanted
shows a lack of dedication
so i sit in my lovely self-made cage

round and round on the merry-go-round
i wonder where it will spit me out?

we are sixteen
and the gloves and
the stiff lips have failed to take note of
our dear fickle hearts
and the immense courage with we run
the scorched
shadowy dreams in our eyes
that cannot be discovered in the time it takes
to find a prom date
this is the most angsty thing I've ever written ever sorry

— The End —