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dead poet Dec 1
it takes courage to step out the door;
to pick your battles,
when there’s nothing left fighting for.
Free Bird Feb 2016
In these moonlit hours
I lay here, my thoughts racing
Sometimes it's hard to handle
The realities that I'm facing

My mind is over-tired
Yet my thoughts keep me awake
It's just the way I'm wired
It feels as if there's no escape

Flashbacks hit me like a flash flood
I'm drowning in the memories
My wounds have opened, there is blood
Pouring from my arteries

As the crimson river runs
It feels do or die, this battle
The journey's never any fun
When you're up a creek without a paddle

I see everything so vividly
The visions that dance before my eyes
I'm overcome with melancholy
As I whimper out soft cries

Then just as quickly as it came
The feeling is gone, I'm no longer numb
My body's shaking dissipates
As I brace myself for when the next wave comes
Mariah Wynn Dec 2015
There are two friends, visibly best friends
gripping each other close, hugging.
a smile painted on both faces, wide and bright.
genuine in the moments grasp
their eyes fixed, entertained
by the flutter of a camera.
music takes over
devours every sector of the room
dominates the energy in the air.
everyone is a puppet, controlled
by the master of rhythm, beat and tempo.
repressed chatter is in the distance,
people craving their next solo cup
leaned over the bar,
gesturing towards the beer keg.
these two friends, absorbed in time.
laugh, smile, dance
concealing their inner battle.
the one on the right,
confused and drained
from the roller coaster
she let’s control her happiness.
trapped and torn in a relationship
full of fierce chemistry and
abundant sudden heartbreaks
captivated in the irrational
desire to be with him.
accepting love, she deserves more from.
The one on the left
unhappy, depleted.
on her own, left to be mature
to pay bills, to work, to be a student.
she is obligated to put food on the table,
to be a mother to her brother
to be strong and tough.
together they fulfill their emptiness
by descending into the party life
to cope, and escape the reality of their world
eager to welcome the fake happiness
that knocks at their chamber.
This is a moment in time. A photograph of my friend and I at a college party.
Danielle Jul 2015
They burn them, no remorse
They laugh at them, it's just a game
They whip them.  Afterall, they're the ones to blame
We watch in silence, lips zipped shut
in defiance, or is it fear?
Tear by tear we cry from them
Smelling the stench of burning flesh,
eyes stinging. Is this some kind of Test?
We hear their shrieks
until we are certain they are our own
Ears ringing, voices faint, noses clogged with ash
Take this gun and shoot me
I'll be free from this at last
Marium Iqbal Nov 2014
War
My brain is the gun.
My thoughts the bullets.
My hand is the trigger.
Society's hateful words pull it.

— The End —