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Phoenix Rising Nov 2014
All my life
felt like breathing through a straw
You came along
and tried to remove it
I thought you were harming me
I panicked
Held my breath for a minute
and when I opened my eyes
the straw was gone
I could breathe better
Thunderstorm Nov 2014
To bring us together,
But that has to stop.
We can't wait
Until people have died
To unite
Please, join me
If you find a poem
Saying the person will commit suicide,
Try and help
For Andy
(Even though he's not dead)
Repost if you support my cause.
kaila Oct 2014
Looking up to the sun as the light gradually declined,
in my solitary there was something missing,
it could be a void I could've sworn vame from my heart,
or the lack of sleep shown from the never-ending trail of bags under my eyes.
I'd tell myself,
"Maybe I didn't do my homework,"
"Maybe I didn't wash my hands,"
"Maybe I didn't take a shower,"
"Maybe I didn't do my homework,"
"Maybe I didn't brush my hair,"
"Maybe I didn't do my homework,"
All of the endless possibilities that drive me mad to the core while trying to figure out exactly what was missing from my day;
you've shown up and helped push it away.
Maybe it'll only be for a short time span,
or only for a brief moment.
Until there's a day that comes along,
and you decide to go,
I know you'll keep me sane.
MST Sep 2014
Dissonance is when you are met with a contradiction.
You go through life with no qualms,
eating everyday the preservatives you love,
forgetting the places where we just dropped bombs,
dropped upon children; as if gods from above.
Men and women are murdered every day,
but we have the power to keep that at bay,
with our expertise in the art of ******,
your country is our flock and we are the herder.
But every few days or so,
a report will come up on T.V.,
how the problem will grow,
but not to worry, it will never effect me.
So I live my life with my T.V. shows,
going to parties and drinking too much,
not thinking of the children who made my clothes,
and how my comfort is due to their touch.
Until one day a new report is up,
how the war has not worked and people are dying,
the reporter doesn't bat an eye during his close up,
when they show the children crying.
Dissonance appears in my heart,
my head, my body and my soul.

"How can I be so happy and free?
with someone living so below me.
I should help, I should fight,
show those heathens what is right.
Let the world know that this is wrong,
maybe I'll even write a song."

Then my brain recognizes its bounds,
settles down and grabs a coke,
I'll just do a few more rounds,
of sitting and telling a joke.
That makes it easier for me,
to laugh instead of aid,
for I know they are not free,
but soon their voices will fade,
and I can comfortably forget their plea.
Adelina Marie Sep 2014
you know what? this kills. knowing you're probably lying there with a head chock full of thoughts that i wish i could ease but i know i can't. it ate at me all day because i knew something was wrong. i still don't know exactly what is wrong, and that's okay. that's your business. but hey, i'm here to tell you something. and you're gonna listen, okay? there is so much more to you than what you see in the mirror. you're so used to your own personality and physical features that you don't understand how your supposed weeds could look like blossoming roses to another. but guess what? they do. sure, your smile says "happy" but your eyes say "help", but there are still universes to be discovered in the depths of those eyes. they say that eyes are the window to the soul, and god, your eyes are like windows to nebulae bursting with light and power and colors and stars. your smile conveys what you may be too shy to say, and your laugh is the call of an innocent child trapped in the body of a man who has had a rough life and has been shaped by it, for better and possibly also for worse. i'm glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget. because you deserve so much more than what you've been handed, whether you agree with me or not. you deserve the world and all the stars in the sky and all the time left and beyond to do what you strive for. but there is a limit to what i can give you, so i hope you will take with a generous hand what i have to give. i can give you the love you deserve and perhaps a hand to hold. and maybe---just maybe---i can help you see that the weeds you believe that are growing in your heart and polluting your ribcage are actually roses. they've got thorns, but pain is easier to handle when it's divided between two. And i would gladly bleed for you.
I wrote this for a friend who has had a really bad day... I figured it would be nice to wake up to something so heartfelt.
MBishop Jul 2014
You want me to steep myself in your fantasy
Like a bag of tea
But I am not a bag of tea.
I cannot make your dull story any more tasteful
I cannot be the woman of your dreams.
I will not make you any better
Because I am not a bag of tea.
Soak me in scalding water
I refuse to let myself go
I refuse to let anything seep
I am bitter and sheltered
And certainly not your cup of tea
I cannot soothe you to sleep
Or give you the energy you need
I will not nurse you back to health, becoming your new home remedy
**Because I am not a bag of tea.
raingirlpoet Jun 2014
By the way she opens herself up to others,
You would never know how much she's gone through
Selflessness and a desire that turned into an urge

By the way she's always making sure everyone else is okay first,
You would never know she's struggling to keep herself above water
Maybe she's helping herself by helping others

She's always telling me
To take care of myself first before I worry about others
I am top priority

I wonder if she takes her own advice
Heliza Rose Jun 2014
He tried to fix her
But she broke him too
I'm lost again
Lost again in the snow

There's nothing here
No people
No houses
No trees
Nothing

Nothing but white
and me

It's so cold here
Yet I still feel warm

I'm lost here
Yet I feel like I've been here before

I look up
I see a hand
It helps me up

The hand disappears
I see a house
I recognize that house

I reach out
I open the door
I am home

It's warm here
And I feel that warmth

I start feeling cold
I can't feel its warmth anymore

I'm lost again
Lost again in the snow
Story of my life

. Written after depression in September 2010

. Inspired by "Counting the Roses" by Arto Lindsay

"Poetry to me, it's like creating my own microcosm.
A sanctuary of comfort. It was probably, no, it must have been the end of another sad day when I wrote this poem."

- Kimberly Fox, fictional character (D2)

. For my loving family who is, was and always will there for me



Thank you
Johanne Apr 2014
Thank you for
catching me,

Thank you for
loving me for who I am

Thank you for
helping me through everything

And last
but not least

Thank you for
being mine
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