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Nyx Aug 2019
It’s the way she talks, the way she walks
It’s how her hair flows in the wind
There are so many things I don’t know where to begin

Her smile, saying it’ll be worth while
Her eyes that glisten with mischief
Her body and curves
It’s how she acts that gets on my nerves

And of all the people of the world
You are the one I fear the most
I’m so afraid you will take everything
Then unconsciously you’ll boast

It riddles me with fear
You spark a harsh light in my heart
Pitting holes within my stomach
Tearing me apart

And all because I’m jealous
Jealous of only you in this world
And whenever I look at you I think
I’ll never be enough

Poem after poem I write
Trying to extinguish this fright
But my insecurities keep me company
You set me on fire with your “light”

I’ll never get over this complex
This deep rooted thing of you
Feeling Inferior and worthless
No matter how many say it’s not true

Because thinking of it always makes me feel blue
All on top with the fact that I’m losing you

What a pitiful mess
Just lay me to rest.

I’ll never measure up to her
No matter how hard I try
All I do is meaningless
When in a moment she can ****** it away
Just like all the rest, over and over again
and the more she takes the more I break
Until I simply can't handle it anymore
Tommy Randell Mar 2019
I'm quite a boring window, really -
I can be seen through all too clearly.
And there's not much on this other side
You might want to knock and come inside:

And, through my window on the world,
I peer out, at you poets with your pearls,
Wondering what it might be like
To have all that space in which to write..?
Xallan Jan 2019
I have been halted
My potential has been dismissed.
Halfway through puberty, my thyroid stilled
Dependent on daily doses of artifice
Taking vitamins, supplements, medications
For all my unnatural natural disorders

Already bloated with self-hatred, I dream, yes-
I wish and hope for impossibilities
Denied me by my biological construction
Dreaming, wishing, hoping is futile.

I am forever limited.
My frame is weak and small and pathetic
I am swollen with disgrace, I work
I act and I cause with no effect
I cannot speak to my reflection in the mirror
Working, acting, causing is futile.

I will always be held back.
My body will release blood and tears instead
My flank makes my figure obvious
Hidden, buried,
I don't desire to resemble a perfect muse
I desire the average, out of reach
The mean. The median. The mode.

I deceive myself with mindless motivations
Persistence, Perseverance, and Patience
All lies, the real truth is time ends all.
All my hopes, all my joys, all my pains, and yet
I see in the tea leaves in the dredges of despair
I perceive the hopeless reality
Time will end my life.
Xallan Jan 2019
Go hard, or go home, right?
I'd rather cut off my hands at the wrists
Than make a little incision.
No temptation to take a blade to my throat,
Then, because I wouldn't have any hands,
Just bleeding stumps, see?
No hands, no grip,
No blood, no life.
Nothing but a pitiful excuse for a body
Without life. With severed hands,
And nothing to serve with
But glances of pity and sob stories
To warn your children not to be like me.
Useless excuse for a person
Who handicapped themselves!
It's so ridiculously stupid, it's downright comical.
The men who freed themselves will
Laugh their little heads off at this.
They might take a look
At the space that their hands compose so
And perhaps wonder empathetically
What might drive me to discard so many
Perfectly designed atoms designed subpar.
Maybe a brighter one will realize
The truth- it's psychological
No hands, no touch
No touch, no feel.
Anya Oct 2018
And me
We both debate
The only two
To do that type
In our school


He always advances
I don’t
We win the same number
But different points
He just has

I just...

I want-need-to improve
To beat him!

An inferiority complex?

For me it was debate but for those of you who understand the frustration involved in being behind but unable to catch up to a competititor no matter how you try, feel free to mentally replace debate with whatever activity you do.
Anya Jul 2018
Should I
Let myself flow out
As raw and choppy as I am
Or take myself through a stencil
Perfectly shaped
No longer
Anya Jul 2018
I’m short
Not super
But like average
The shortest
Of average
It’s still short
Rose May 2018
my words are empty murmurs to an old man,
who thinks his worth is more than mine.
the inferiority of my *** is inflicted by your tone.
one day you will be brought down from your high tower of injustice.
so many times my *** has brought me shame, for what knowledge can a woman know? the answer is so much.
Ordeezy May 2018
Mama, what does it mean to be free?
To think and act on your own?
If they free our skin will they free our minds?
Will we learn to love and appreciate one another?
Will my bronze skin be beautiful?
Will men admire my ***** hair
Will they rather look at her pale skin in awe?
Can we be truly free or will it be an illusion?
Will we stand equal or forever inferior to colonizers?
If freedom walks in
Will we mourn our brothers or sing songs of freedom
Mourning is easy, we mourn daily
If we are to sing freedom songs
How will we sing songs we were never taught
If freedom doesn't walk in
Will we be slaves forever?
Mama, what does it mean to be free?
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