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Sarah Caitlyn Sep 2016
Head down
Hair up
Don’t say a word.
Walk past
Quickly now
They might see you.
Duck into class
Sink in your seat
Don’t risk it
They might see you.
Long sleeves
Mostly black
Blend into the crowd
So they won’t see you.
If they do
They’ll judge you
Every move
Every breathe
They’re judging you.
Your name is called
Just walk past
Quicker
Hurry
Before they notice
That you’re
not the same.
Leave behind
Any thoughts of fitting in
Because
this is you
And if you aren’t
Completely silent
They might notice you.
sorry
JR Rhine Sep 2016
The elephant in the room
was a kid in the high school cafeteria
with an acoustic guitar.

Meandering forlornly through the aisles
hoping that someone would listen to him
stumble through the opening chords to "Crazy Train."

He was just trying to fit in, same as I,
but God did I hate him for it.
I see them all
the ghosts from my past
Smiling taking selfies with the "squad"
who kisses their ****
They have everything handed to them
Everything laid out for them
Their futures paid for them
Those narcissistic freaks that took me for granted.
So maybe I am a creep as radiohead describes
Maybe I'm a nerd and live a different kind of life
But one thing is for certain until the day I die
I'm better off without you *******
You're living a tedious lie.
You never cared for me anyway, no wonder I was bullied so much. My "friends" were behind it all.
Jess Hays Sep 2016
I'm at the end of my rope
They keep tugging, supplying me with false hope
And this dream inside of me
How am I to ever make it that far?
I thought destiny was holding my hand
But I think it lost track a long while ago
I'm running only on hope and prayers
But I'm not even religious
I think I'm losing my stubborn stare
I feel as if I'm running in circles
Never going anywhere
GrizzlyBear Sep 2016
Him.
He makes your heart race and your skin redden from the way he makes you feel.
He makes you smile when all you want to do is cry.
You want him.
But, so do I.
I want him too.
Probably as much as you do.
He makes my heart race and my skin redden.
He makes me smile when I wish I was never born.
But you have more friends,
better friends.
You have a bigger personality.
You're more noticeable.
"I saw him first." You always tells me.
I feel awful.
I know I should forget about him, but I can't.
You told me you wouldn't date for a while because you just had a breakup.
You always have somebody who wants to date you.
Always.
I never do.
So why are you doing this to me?
Let me feel.
I don't want to forget him.
He makes me feel.
The way he rolls up his button up shirts.
The way he teases others.
The way he sat there and listened when you rant.
You want him.
But so do I.
this is a real life experience. if anyone has any advice, please help me
Kayla Aug 2016
I miss high school.
Not the overdramatic girl yelling at the top of her lungs.
Not the so-called friends that left me stranded.
Not the hours of homework on something I still don’t understand.
I miss people.
I miss moments.
I miss routine.
I miss him.

- kmh
SS Aug 2016
As the silence goes

Our eyes alone catch one another
These quiet, intimate, three seconds of time

The look in your eyes were so real to me
It was just the two of us
As every other being
Continues to move along in life

As the silence goes
No words could speak better than
What we could feel then

Hand in hand
There you were
With someone special

This busy and fast paced world
Lets our old memories sleep
Lets us forget
But I will never about you

As the silence goes
And as time went on
So did we
About a girl from high school. I mean she liked me back but...Also, I hope ya'll don't misunderstand this poem, because it's about unrequited love, I never got to connect with her as she was dating someone else.
AJ James Aug 2016
Daydreams about my future
consumed my fifteen year old mind,
if only I was informed that eight years later,
I'd still be daydreaming about my future.

Daydreams about my future
consisted of joy and freedom
if only I was informed that eight years later,
I'd still be restrained and joyless.

Daydreams about my future
so misleading to think I would be successful
eight years later and I still question if this
pain will ever cease to exist.

Daydreams about my future,
a world full of fairness that celebrates brightness
not this mess of confused individuality where
anonymity is the new frontier.

Daydreams about my future,
gave me hope that one day I would find the acceptance
I so desperately craved
Eight years later and I'm still hungry.

Daydreams about my future,
reprieve from the torment from my peers.
who would have known, that eight years later
my peers would still misunderstand me.

Daydreams about my future,
the place I withdraw and hide in.
Eight years later and I'm still stuck
in daydreams about my future.

Daydreams about my future,
a hopeless concept my young mind created
to pretend that reality is nonexistent
Eight years later and my reality is still choking the life from me.

Daydreams about my future,
the only thing that keeps me going,
eight years later and I'm still relying on a lie
to get me through this life until it's time to die

Daydreams about my future,
who would have known that I would be so naive to stay here
Eight years later, my twenty-three year old mind has
disappointed my fifteen year old self.

Daydreams about my future,
are all I have left.
Eight years later and I'm still here,
daydreaming about my future.
b e mccomb Aug 2016
right now
i'm imagining
the feeling of sweat
and hairspray
and suspecting that the
church will be hot

the knees of friends
and family all
sticking to the edges of
the blue padded pews

i can practically
feel my clammy hands
and the robe hanging
from my shoulders

rosin on my fingers
i expect that i will
need rosin
and nail polish
to keep me
glued together

i hope
i won't cry
i kind of know
i won't cry
but i bought waterproof
mascara just in case

and i won't be able
to feel my toes because
they'll be numb
in my finest heels

all i want is to be
out of here
but it's still only
in my mind.

and as i'm sitting in bed
contemplating

(you could call it
dwelling or
obsessing but i will
call it good
old-fashioned
contemplation)


i'm thinking about
my graduation
and how i don't even
really care

about a kind of
paltry milestone
inside this year
compared

to the feeling of
the last day of class
that moment on stage
dancing in sneakers
my finest poems
late nights
mornings too early
yearbooks
and every weekend
spent together

i'll miss
everything i had
and dread all
that i don't

but i sure can't wait
to get out

i just have to get
past graduation day.
Copyright 5/18/16 by B. E. McComb
b e mccomb Aug 2016
i could write about
a lot of things
like my day
or how the pavement
looks when it
rains slightly.

or how the parking lot
feels when it's full
of cars and void of people
or how i feel when i'm
surrounded and
afraid.

how i'm angry and
insecure and
i don't owe anyone
anything
not my friends
not enemies
or elders
not an apology
or a single
**** explanation.

but i think i'll just
forget about the
whole thing and
write about death
or something
nice like that
after all it would
weight less on me
then the words
on my fingertips.

i had assumed
that i was done
struggling with
all that identity crap
but now i've concluded
that everything we ever
fight is a battle for
our own lives.

and it's odd
to think that i can
have such a strong
sense of myself and yet
my personality can
be so unlike that self.

there are more layers
to a parking lot than
what you might
first expect.

i suppose at one point
there were grass
and trees and pure
unadulterated dirt
and then somebody
leveled it
maybe added a coating
of gravel and
paved over it and
put some vehicles on top.

but that doesn't mean the
layers aren't still there
under the asphalt
i mean.

and that's what i'm saying
is that i've got something
under the pavement
i just can't get the cars
to move out for long enough
to tear up the layers.

i feel other people's wheel marks
burned into my skin
and the signs and lines
that proclaim no parking
have been vandalized and
ignored for too long.

how do you tell a parking lot to stop
without looking crazy?

and there lies the
exact problem
i care
too much
what people think
i look like
and i don't mind if they
think i'm insane
but i mind if they don't
like me
there's a big
difference you know.

and there goes
another piece
falling into place
and the
puzzle not
yet completed.
Copyright 4/25/16 by B. E. McComb
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