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We can finally talk again
And I want to see you around
But I'm just so tired
Of talking right now
And I'd rather die
Than let you down
But I'm just so tired
Of people right now
Oh my god I'm ******* tired.
You're a flower in the night
Where darkness persists
You're waiting there
For your chance to bloom

And god, it'll be so beautiful
If you're reading this, I love you. The views and reactions I get to my poetry on here help me so much more than any of you could know. We're strangers on the other side of our screens, but in poetry, we're friends and family.
Yonnick August Dec 2018
never did fancy crowds
nor did I understood
those people who
did it all
for attention.
more of the
introverted type
would be fitting
to describe my soul.
never what I seem...
people often think
he's to a fault
it's just a reaction
I guess...
to my problem
with crowds.
In a room with
or more,
watch as I
feel the eyes,
create stories
a bottle
that has lost
it's cap
at the end of
a table
with an
beginning to
t i p
as all anxieties
present themselves
on the

f   l   o   o   r

I find
how some can be
surrounded by people
yet still
Claudia Jimenez Nov 2018
An introverted saint

An introverted saint named after a saint
Who died for rebirth of faith
A ******* is very intuitive and alive
Like poem
But that’s not who you really are
You are running away from your past
Your pain you took risk to give rot to a friend’s innocent body without why

The way it glows how the light holds you in silence, taking care of you
Experience the energy of where all life began when you met a friend

And yet you keep it so close to you
So you don’t have to be afraid of who you are... you might lose your mind you refuses to take it factual. A ******* wants to spend the cell with who he is.

A ******* sees an angel for the first time is a friend when he told a friend is an angel without a *******’s feeling in unclearly to complete desirable to be aware
Know your purpose feel your birth
Hear at first faintly then distinctly is a friend’s a state of harmony
The sweet strains of our union
Our friendship heats up the cold universe,
And give your tired desperate heart you lost your introversive
Purified by our kisses, are eternally healed.
It’s destiny by the way it’s weird feeling
It is magic?

A ******* is a weak man that he is extremely hazy
the way narcissism made him lack.

Your brilliance
Your heart is very weak because of flattery
You are not afraid in the world you get hidden away from a friend’s sight as light that from your introversion compare with extrovert in experience
But you can’t cook to save your life for who you are, you are so desperately to erase in anything with good thing come in your timeline to move to make sure you are safely where your home is with you
To believe in something that’s all around us
But hidden from our sight
The gift of the faith that destiny is willing to create us to be purpose to meet in happenstance that who we are
Life can be kind and zealous

Because you are beautiful. —They move me.

An introverted saint
I wanted to let it go our past drunken mistake we did thing to us we didn’t realize we lost our souls and friendships and my trauma
Anya Oct 2018
My policy
is typically
in a pony tail
out of my eyes
But sometimes...
it gets monotonous
and tied
to my more
introverted me
academic me

I've tried braids
brings me back to elementary
Several people called me
I embody a twelve year old

I tried a headband
not bad
the fluffy strands
to get in the water fountain
when I'm drinking

Hair out?
The first one I tried
but messy
in my eyes
The me,
that will roll down a grassy hill
just cause

So, which one is it
or something...more?
Is it
just hair?
Is it
linked to my identity?
I dunno
But maybe I'll
What is it to you?
Anya Sep 2018
Today my friend told me
I was acting strange
I gave her the
of a sugar high
But really,
I was just being
Seanathon Sep 2018
Reach into the nothingness
Like a warm breath slipping into the cold night
Hands outward, eyes open, upwards towards the sky

Embrace the silent subtle voice
Which hides behind the daily routines
But is no less mindfully alive

Cast images onto the fog itself
Until you've seen the many dreams which you've procured for yourself
In this cloudy life

Breathe with the forgetfulness of evey waking step  
As you amble through these miles set
With jawline firm and eyeline slight

Smile at the passing sight of another universe in tow
Which ambles by and out of view
As your inward story comes alive

And live not in line with every Crow on any high wire
But fly as if there were no tomorrow in your quiet sigh
Upwards and towards the sky
Expression, Intuition, Dreams, Escape, Imagination, Individualism.

That's what these are all about. Coming together to make this.

Towards the sky
CA Smith May 2018
Ring the bell
A teller steps up to the counter
"How may I help you today?"
You could calm my doubts
You could ease my worries
You could tell me why
I feel always in a hurry
You could explain,
Why I hate my own name
You could give me a mirror,
That shows me who I really am

If you could, please, just direct me to the isle with the discounted ham.
Another expirement in not hitting backspace while writing.
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