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nja Jan 2019
Plaits in theory seem to hold the threads of your hair together so tightly. But they’re loose, tangled, fragile creations that with one sudden misplaced head turn consequently fall apart.
Plaits are relatable.
What a disgusting metaphor she thought as she continued to plait her hair now in tears.
Quite a playful, ridulous bit of nothing. It reflects how my thought process quickly deteriorates. I feel the ending echos millenial disgust. The name is derrived from the Hunger Games.
heather leather Dec 2015
real; the unscabbed scars on my knuckles and arms remind
me of rough trees and the grimy surface of soil stomped
on, you compare them to wildflowers but i know that this is
only because you are the type of person to enter a restaurant
with a sign that reads caution and order something anyway,
simply because you are too nice and hate to think of businesses
shutting down and of people failing, maybe this is why
you love me, i still have not figured it out yet

real; walking into school makes me feel like a deflated balloon
and everyone that says hello to me is blowing me up
again with methane i am slowly becoming too big to be tied
down with a ribbon called responsibility and fear,
the anxiety that enters my mind when i am forced to stand in
front of strangers with judgemental eyes and fake smiles
becomes mind numbingly painful and it makes me question
whether or not i am still alive. i still have not figured out
why i am yet.

real; your smile lights up the lights on the lamposts by the
train station where we met it transforms phantoms into people
paper planes into reality and nightmares into dreams
your touch leaves nothing but good intentions and blissful hope
and it leaves my cold unbeating heart yearning for warmth. i
still have not figured out if i like it or not.

not real; you love me. you kiss my wrist because you care
about me not what i went through. you love talking to me, you
wonder about how stars could ever die because you
think i am a walking sun. you keep your promises and tell me that
you care every night. i'm a good person. i have aspirations.
those pills on my bedside are not mine. the mirror is shaking.
i never meant to hurt myself. i'm sorry for all the things i've done.
i have potential to be better. i am beautiful.
not real not real not ******* real

(h.l.)
thoughts?
Supercat917 Mar 2015
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I place flowers by her grave
That I wish she could see

I remember her laugh
Her smile
And her scream
Have dreams of her death
That place the blame on me

Under the Willow now
Weeping with the tree
I'll stay here
By my sister's feet

The funeral is done
The rain is pouring down
Everyone is gone
No one remains but me

I read the inscription on her grave
The one chosen be me:
Your life is what you gave
To help set Panem free

I wish I was dead
It should have been me
He should have ran
She should have tried to flee

It cannot be changed
Not even by me
So I take a breath
And bury her ashes
Underneath the tree
Ember Evanescent Jan 2015
I reread the same books over and over
And I don't care how many reasons you have to hate the series
These books are like people
Sure, they have flaws
But I love them for everything they are
I see their beauty, not their mistakes
I will always love them
Because they were my escape
When everything was crumbling
They were my friends
When people weren't
And rereading them
Reminds me
Of how beautiful it was
To escape
I don't care if you hate them
Just like people, if you don't like them, leave them alone
No on is forcing you to associate yourself with them
You don't need to go around spreading news about their flaws
Because you have many of your own
My emotions
Are connected to those books
Because they saved my life
So leave them alone
sick of hearing what is "wrong" with the books that got me through suicidal times
AavelinaJaden Jun 2014
I fell in love like the way you fall asleep: like getting hit by a ******* bus that knocks you out of your senses and *In that moment I swear we were infinitely in love but ******* you left me on my own. I know love and lust don't always keep the same company but I find great companionship in your eyes and I'm quite hoping you'll stick around. May the odds be ever in our favor of falling in love again in the empty house we once called mine where i'm divergent and I can only be controlled by my fears (of losing you) that send me recoiling in your arms every night; I solemnly swear that I am up to no good and I spend every second wishing you'd love me like I love you.

— The End —