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Elizabeth Jan 23
Freshman.
Living life like out of a book.
Holding onto the storybooks,
Their parents read to them when they were babies.
Now wanting to be the epitome of school.
Hitting school like a bomb,
Being North Korea against our school of Trump,
And reaching standards unknown to any man or woman before them.
They just throw their “Perfect” shape right into someone’s face,
And say HA!

To reach the standard of perfection,
They spend money on beauty.
Just styling themselves like the Kardashians,
And following Kylie Jenner’s shot glass lips challenge.
“Trends” is just another word for a wannabe utopian.
With parents, there is no worry over money,
As long as they are happy.

Happiness is Perfection.
Key to perfection is starvation.
Because being too big isn’t “pretty.”
Compare yourself,
To the preppy blonde cheerleader who thinks she is perfect,
cause she can shake her hips to the music.
To be like her you skip meals,
A day,
maybe two,
or even a week.
You're told, ”Go on a diet, you need it!”
To bad a genie can't make us skinnier with a snap of his fingers.

The genie did change the style.
Yelling “Attention!”
“The trends have changed.”
“Floral is now in.”
“So rid of those nasty old outfits, and pick up the new.”
“Paint yourself in the vision of everyone’s flower.”
“Invest in the fashion trends that make us “cool”.”

Now that you have the style,
You need friends.
Your bullies tease you,
“Oh lost puppy dog,
With your lonely eyes and scarce heartbeat,
Searching for someone to love you,
Too bad no one will.”
Dive head first into the sea of hope and status quo.
Taking in the account of who they dated,
Or what sport they are good at.
Cause Lord forbid you are friends with your ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend.
So stay clear of the nuclear reactors,
And just keep building your fumes,
With death glares and eye rolls.

“Oh No someone hold my earrings.”
Your ex is dating your best friend.
“SINCE WHEN!”
He isn’t worth losing your best friend over.
But you only argue and fight.
So start World War 3.
Be a ***** to your own mistakes.

One mistake you didn’t make was advice on dating.
OH Wait,
You messed that up too.
The hottest guy in school was the one who held your heart,
Well sorry to say,
You aren’t good enough.
Oh, you want to catch his attention now?
Then attach yourself to his side,
Like a leech ******* all the attention from him.
Draining him of his status.
Just so you give up,
And say he wasn’t good enough.

Just like you weren’t good in school.
Boring lessons,
That makes you question when in life will I need this skill?
You think,
Oh, I will marry a rich guy and sit at home looking pretty.
REALITY CHECK.
Focus in school so you can sit at home and look pretty,
When you retire.

Gasp You are a rich girl.
Wait till I tell everyone what I just saw.
Such a disgrace!
No Lies.
No secrets.
Well too bad,
We know everything and tell everyone.
We can destroy you even if it isn’t true.
So keep your mouth shut,
Or don’t.

Miss Perfect of 2018 doesn’t spread rumors though.
She is too busy,
Getting her dad to pay for her.
Her $100 acrylic nails,
And $200 designer purse.
That is what you get when you meet a preppy cheerleader.
Daddy’s money is what causes happiness.

You can take daddy’s money and pay your friends.
No need for real friends,
Not if you are the most popular girl in school.
So be gullible and laugh at all their jokes and they will love you,
Not!

So Congratulations.
You are now the biggest brat in the school.
Don’t want all of this,
Be Yourself.
Sorry that it is long but I promise that it is worth your time
You came
You lie
You left
I cried
I grow up
Random thoughts. :)
Emm Aug 2018
finding fake joy in little lies
finding fake self worth in some shoes
new branded item
no one looks up on you for them
just wait 'til the mud tear them down
tell me who what do you see when you look into the mirror
is it someone you like?
is it someone you wanted to be?
the kid in you says hi to me
asking you to grow up so that he can too
to face the real world
like a real man should
armed with ammunition
that is real self-confidence
stemming firmly on the ground of wisdom
not fake accessories and marketing gimmicks
clink another glass
because that's how you face your problems
pout another story
for your non-existent friends to tell
inflated self image inflated ego
who you gonna fool with your little bell
Emm Aug 2018
We're all as lost in rust and frost
and don't say otherwise
because if you don't feel the same
maybe your time is yet to come

But worry not you're in good companies
if only us would all share stories
if only us all would admit and accept
dancing along with no regret

Hanging out with the wrong crowd
just to feel that I belong
every night a different crowd
trying to play along,
but nothing seems right
only to stick out like a sore thumb
the sounds of the crowd muffled drowned by my own thoughts
non-existent cheers to the original me
muddy grounds and misty rain
fake laughters masking the emptiness inside
laughing only to play along

Someday maybe I'll get back to me
Someday maybe you'd find the old you
what your future tells, I can't say for sure,
but for now let's just pour us another
Swim along, I won't let you sink
you can hold my hand for support
and I'll hug you 'til you feel better
Keerthi Kishor Jul 2018
Sometimes,
I feel that 'Growing up' is the only mistake I ever did.
"And not letting go."
Jim Musics Jul 2018
Society Halting Usurping of Terrific Upscale Poets
Hey, we could start a vigilantly poets gang.
(only half kidding)
Jiawen 张 Sep 2017
Father and mother,
I love you.
This is how I remember
the spelling of FAMILY.
        
Father and mother,
I had been trying my best
To love you both equally,
And to lie to myself about everything
Till the moment he disappeared suddenly.

Father and mother,
I had been locked in a box
With my body folded.
No room to spread my wings to fly
Till the moment he flew away.

But it wasn’t just me.
We all had been locked in that box
With our bodies against each other’s.
Hurt and numbed
Till the moment he passed away.

Mother and I,
We’ve loved him in pain.
We’re loving him in tears.
We’ll love him in smiles.

He set himself free,
He set all of us free.
I’m still young enough to learn to fly.
Mother has forgotten.
But she will only forget
Till the moment I can fly high.

I will come back down,
To teach her fly high.
I will put her on my back,
To let her rest in the sky.
I will put her under my wings,
To protect her from the rain.

Father and mother,
I love you.
Equally and differently
Till one day we are together again.
My first real poem.
Fritzi Melendez Mar 2018
I want to scream until I convulse into a ****** rage of anger.
I can't believe what these figures tell me.
They shrug me off like an old rancid carpet of emotions.
They don't want my problems, but God forbid I ignore theirs and suddenly I'm the villain.
Not only do I have to keep limping as I carry the weights of myself, but I also have to carry one, no, two, no... five.
Five.
And everyone acts as if the Prozac has magically given me the HP boost to carry this on.
I ask for help when my sore body can't hold anymore.
I just feel like--
"IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M THIS WAY."
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO AGREE WITH ME ON EVERYTHING NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS."
"YOU HAVEN'T HELPED ME AT ALL."
"PLEASE ****** MY EGO MORE AS I PRETEND TO BE DEPRESSED LIKE YOU."
...Should I remind you of what I did for you?
How I tore my ligaments just so you can keep walking all over me?
How I forced to bite my tongue so hard that I began to ***** my own blood?
How I stayed through your ******* problems that had me rolling my eyes out of their sockets?
If only I can pretend to feel this **** as much as you do.
If only I could be a stone that you resemble to.
If only I could be so self-absorbing and privileged like you.
I wish I didn’t have to feel like this. I wish I wasn't starved of happiness that I rightfully deserve.
That I've actually worked for.
Unlike you.
Who was handed everything to them since birth.
Maybe that’s why you have the tendency to run away from your problems.
You’re scared.
You can’t grow up.
You think everyone will conform to your idealization of how a life is lived.
Because maybe that's what your parents wrongfully taught you.
You want to be the savior of those who are depressed.
You use their illness to your advantage to get some sick satisfaction off their pain.
And when they're left to tell you how wrong you are for that, you s--
"WELL HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP?"
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT THEY'RE DEPRESSED."
"I TRIED TO HELP BY STATING THEY WERE FINE EVERY TIME."
"NOW PLEASE LET'S TALK ABOUT ME!"
... It's atrocious that one will pretend to be some God to a person that is losing their faith.
These sad, sick people will keep stroking your ego because they have nothing else, no one else, but you.
Or so you think.
And you know that. You will keep playing this ****** game called Life by using cheat codes on single player for your own self-indulgence.
You will keep acting like the hero for the distressed damsel waiting in the other castle.
And you will keep quitting the game in a rage when you're sidelined by other quests.
It truly is selfish and disgusting.
But what you may not know, is that the damsel in distress has her own strategy of escape.
She has had to survive this game called Life amplified to Hard Mode.
She knows the way of this unfair game, ghosted to seem like a helpless poor soul in need of salvation from some sort of cowardly knight.

But what you, or anyone doesn't know,
Is she is almost at the end credit screen.
Where there is a happily ever after,
Made possible, completely without you.
Your XP Is Running Low!
-Pause-
Are You Sure You Want To Quit The Game? Any Unsaved Progress Will Be Lost.
-Main Menu-
Lightheart Mar 2018
As low as your self esteem is
the world still doesn’t revolve around you,
***.
A callout poem for me
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