I dared not to repeat history,
To not repeat that life changing mistake, But different actions, same results.

I piece together this puzzle,
Oh so carefully.
From my experience in the past few months,
I've learned the things we did to fail.

But this isn't enough,
Not much information gathered.
And so, here am I walking on a similar path,
It feels like October 14th all over again.

In this quiet, chilly room
Sit friendly faces lost in gentle thought
With comforting shadows warming their hearts
Sitting back and beginning to go

Fingers clamour, key by key
On obedient machines ready to paint pictures
Of little letters holding hands
To become a perfect masterpiece

They watch diligently with curious looking eyes
As their hands dance across the board
Step by step, checking their form
Like an actress playing in performance

Like groups of musicians, painters, and more
But muse and paint is not what they do
They are painters of a different medium
Who write all with pen and quill too

Creative minds weaving baskets of English
Bundled with words of mystical magic
They are the few destined to stumble into Narnia
They are a different few, we call writers

i shall remain as a hidden piece of a puzzle,
puzzling myself to pieces on why storms
swirl daily around the absence of my brain.
and on this rainy friday afternoon it should be no different;
wondering how i came to be, perched away
in the back of the room to watch a flood of unfamiliar smiles.
when did i become so lonely and outcast?
the dread of not liking most of the people i'm around dawns
and my jagged edges of a puzzle piece emphasise.
i do not fit with these people. they are
too sure on their happiness.

I don't usually do this (status updates instead of poetry) but I'm really in the mood to flex my creative muscles and share ideas and concepts with my fellow poets here on HP. I love collaborating. I would like to use kik or fb messenger since it an easier means of  communication for me. My kik is hottymelly25 and my facebook is Melanie Wilson (TGWLY).

Also, we have a thriving group of poets chatting together on kik. We're just a small group of poets who have met on here or on Poets Corner (another poetry app we like to use a lot) and we talk about life, poetry, what we made for breakfast, the importance of the decoy vaginas that ducks have to prevent **** and everything in between. It's quite entertaining and we're kinda like a family. If you're interested in joining us, just message me. :) 16+ only please.

Thank you for reading. ❤

Here is the link to the page! Please go check it out asap! Thanks.

https://m.facebook.com/Our-Light-1011466452267886/?ref=bookmarks

All abroad to this transit express 1337
The top of the one percent deviation to the rest.

Like those of the first class in air lines,
And us in the back seat separated into middle and less.

Throwing crumbs at us to divide amongst us,
While we oblige by bicker and fight with cuss.

It is their "Monoply" game we are playing,
But it is our pieces in "Risk" we are laying.

I say we must stop our own conflicts,
And don't let them take away our game of "Life,"
But stand together in this transit in locomotion.

When it is the worker bees who hold up the top floor,
And without us holding the pedestal the "Jenga" shall fall.

Don't let them divide us,
But once we stand together nothing can stop us,

In unity we shall be strong,
But divided we shall fall.

Stand up, and find commonality,
Then and only then can we have little more pie for the rest of us.

I don't want to hear the words
"You are apart of us"
Leave your lips ever again
Please just stop trying to pretend
I'll never be apart of the duo
Because this love isn't meant for a trio

Don't try not to hurt my feelings
I'm fine
Just tell me like it is
You are fond of me I know
It just won't ever be like her

Don't beat yourself up
I understand
I'm not meant to hold your hands
You have each other
It's alright
I can find my own way tonight

You tell me I'm apart of you
But everyone can see it isn't true
When the topic best friend is spotlight
She is the only highlight
I guess I'm just not made for friends these days
But I'll stick around and watch over you
As if that's what I'm meant to do

My group therapy ended today
Termination is such a violent word
For such a soft thing
Termination is harsh
Reminiscent of layoffs
And Austrian-born California governors
No. This wasn’t a firing.

It was a funeral.

Round robin reflection at a somber dinner table
An exchange of platitudes and promises
To stay in contact, to be available
And we all meant it. Every word.

But no.

We were demented sorcerers,
Holding tightly to fading magics

Ex-lovers
Trying to be friends

Though it was, ironically, a machine that once said.
“A thing is not beautiful because it lasts.”
And every part of me I found in them
Now is a part of them found in me
Carried in my self-revelations
In strides straight and confident as an honest Keyser Soze.
And though I am a penny none the richer

Today I am indigo.

Is a rather large
Group of mothers, criminals and
the forgotten victims