S Apr 10

and as i tap on my keyboard making noises unspeakable i notice that
somewhere between the Y and the I is a U, and I wonder why apple would set up such a cliché
a metaphor I would want to use in times like this where my writing is vulnerable and uncouth
i can’t even be angry with you, against you pressing on your V line since
i knew the movie was bad
i mean i just knew it as soon as the VCR sucked in the thick, boxy, tape
that this film was going to be just like the others— immature and messy,
you were unable to articulate the simplest of my sentences

insert line here

you didn’t even look new, you weren't even an opportunity
you told me you were willing to be the elevated beam in my single music note that we would create harmonies even my mother would like to hear
but she hated you
and you didn’t understand why I liked Bach more than Mozart, or why I didn’t like Mozart at all
you weren't a gentleman, but I am beginning to think those don't exist until well into our 30s
when our hearts are tender enough to feel empathy
you don’t deserve a poem, or the image of heaven

the capital letters you rained in my text messages made my eyes open a little bit wider
i went to cvs and i bought the twix the blanket and the booze
we used to do that together
asian men still write me poems for the morning, i walk out of dorm rooms with water that never knew the cold
and my head it; pounds from dehydration, its been a while since I’ve been in love
but some us are
in love i mean
the dumb ones, the despicable ones
how are they achieving something the kids with 4.0 gpa’s couldn't make an equation for

insert lines here

and why the hell do i keep looking at my phone, waiting for your name to shine bright telling me what to do what to say

insert lines here

why did you sleep with her, on her, side by side, parallel making hexagons and trapezoids keeping me out of the loop
why did i say ok

Emily Gray Apr 7

The people who wear makeup like armour
Are the ones who break the easiest.
The ones who have no self confidence.
The people who do what society tells them to.
They cry and reapply their mascara,
And leave the bathroom that is covered by the sharpie names of those who were caught going against society's rules.
The people who aren't virgins are slut shamed.
And the one who are are called worst.
At the end of the day the makeup remover washes away the painted on armour
We hide behind everyday.
We are left naked until we reapply that lipgloss
And enter the battlefield once more.

Rachel Duggan Mar 14

red halos around angel necks
tapping feet
cold vodka breath

sky dark maroon
no golden sun
sweet grassed licked by the devils tongue

Rachel Duggan Aug 2016

You’ll cry like your mother
And scold like your father
Death seems not a sorrow thing
Painted with the deepest grief
Hollow packed inside your bones
for the dead is not living and the fear is unknown
Scabbed and scarred
Stuck beneath the teeth
It sneaks into your midnight's dream

A nightmare

Regan Morse Feb 27

At seven I heard the story of Peter Pan;

Growing up wasn't part of his plan.

I wish he'd fly through my window sill,

When the stars are bright and the lakes are still.

I would ask him to take me to Neverland,

Where growing up has always been banned,

And never planned.

I'd never have to hear my parents fight,

Everything would finally be alright.

He'd take me through the sky in one big leap,

Over rivers and through mountains steep.

Second star to the right.

Straight on till morning; through the night.

To Neverland.


I'd meet the infamous Tinkerbell,

I knew we'd get on well.

I’d hear her jibber-jabber,

Among the laughter.

I could see Mermaid Lagoon,

As we sink Captain Hook's platoon.

I can join the lost boys; form a family.

Away from the land of the damned; my ruthless reality.

Meet the brave Tiger-Lily,

We could be perfectly silly.

And meet the crocodile who tried to kill time, eating a clock.

Tick tock, tick tock.

I may be able to find a treasure trove.

Maybe I can make a home in a cozy cove.

Peter and I would be as thick as thieves,

I’d make him a crown of leaves.

We will live forever.

To age, we will never surrender.

To live will be an awfully big adventure.

Too far from Peter, I'd never venture.

All you need is faith, trust and pixie dust,

Or you might just combust.


You just have to believe

and you will never have to grieve

and no one would ever leave.

I'd never have to be strong.

I'd never have to care for long.

So let us begin the journey.

To Neverland.

My timeless eternity.

My fantasy.

My delightful daydream.

My bittersweet destiny.

My dreams of Neverland have yet to cease.

And I am already in my late teens.

I wrote this last year, for class and I suppose now's a good time as ever to post it.
Britney Lyn Feb 21

I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.
I wonder when the shadows will take a hold and pay the toll.
I hear screaming in my head with the silence of the night.
I see the future in my way without a guiding light.
I want to hide from the reflecting emotional troll.
I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.

I pretend to be the hero but I’m really in distress.
I feel like fitting in with every girl but I’d like myself even less.
I touch the darkness where it meets the light, when the sun becomes the moon.
I worry about the vicious fight, the princess verses the goon.
I cry when my heart becomes a weak unreachable hole.
I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.

I understand the melody that’s rising with these flames.
I say I love who I am but I’m tired of the games.
I dream about a man but I can never see his face.
I try to find the puzzle piece, one that fits in place.
I hope to be the diamond, not the unfavorable coal.
I am a tainted heart with a replenished soul.

Wrote this in high school, thought I'd share.

I was going to do my homework
Then the washer went off
And the clothes reaped of daisies
And all I could think of were flowers

Sooner or later my homework will be done
Then a deer interrupted my thoughts
Grazing on the grass
I gazed from my window
I haven’t seen one this close

I meant to be productive
Till a woodpecker pecked
And a mockingbird sang a verse
While a hawk belted the chorus
They formed a little bird band.

Wait…

What was I gonna do again?

Welcome to the mind of ADHD/ADD, or even a procrastinators mind. I wrote this poem for my English class because I had loads of homework and in all honesty, i didn't wanna do it and I continuously got distracted, so I wrote this poem on why I couldn't do the homework for my homework assignment.

I sat by you in the dressing room
as you revealed your deepest secrets.
I hugged you as you cried,
telling you my own stories.
I made an ass of myself to see you smile.

Weeks go by and you don't speak to me.
That girl you claimed hurt you keeps you close.
In return, you keep her close and me afar.
She ceases to trust me,
and you were the one who told her not to.

I kept your secrets, and you twisted the knife.
I was stabbed in the back weeks ago,
but you, with your slick soothing words,
you hid the wound from me.
Now I am wary of kind words.

I offer kindness to a cruel world.
When care and attention is offered to me,
I shirk back, avoiding the one thing meant to heal
a hurting heart such as my own
because sometimes sweetness is laced with poison.

I have been M.I.A. for a while, but I'm back now. I hope you enjoy this poem, dedicated to the people around me.
Emily Chambers Jan 30

College applications are done
Acceptance acceptance... acceptance
Fill out forms
You're in, that's good
Recommendation letters
A b r e e z e
But oh dear.
Scholarships.
They need what now?
SS what's that Number again?
AndohmyGodifIhavetowritemyname
O  N  E   M  O  R  E   T  I  M  E
You have my email!
Address upon address,
didn't I just look at this?
IT DIDN'T SAVE.
Start again.
Breathe.
College will be
as the applications.
Easy?

Basically my thoughts while trying to sign up for scholarships and declaring a new major...
Violet Rose Jan 29

Walking into first period I am a 12-year-old girl again,
Confidence turned into racing heartbeats and jumbled words.
Imaginary conversations fill my head with possibilities but nothing ever seems to escape my lips but a timid smile.
I trash my spearmint gum and begin walking back to my seat, the teacher has only just begun talking.
I take three steps before daring to look up,
by the fourth I see blue out of my peripheral...
You are looking at me.
The fifth step, I am looking at you.
And for the entirety of that second all the other faces of the room blurred and I swear the history lesson took a pause for the present and there was solely that simple look to be shared.
A look I have found to be all too familiar but yet it never comes enough to be able to fully decipher it.
It is a look of timid desire.
It is a look of fire and ice, of two elements of opposite worlds colliding.
It is a look of earth and water.
A sly romance which everyone sees but no one knows.
Water hits the shore and I am chocolate melting, I am soil eroding.
I am the tree's branches bending under the misty wind.
I am the earthquake that causes the hurricane, the tsunami.
Yet you are calm like the tranquil sea.
Your eyes the color of the shallow water on a southern beach just before the break of a gentle wave at shore in the first hour of sunrise.
I think of you, and there are butterflies.
I look at you, and they rest.
We both simultaneously break our glance as I turn to my seat.
Oh, how I wish you were sitting next to me.

January 29th, 2017 - 10:5
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