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That wretched face
Inside of that beautiful skin
I couldn't see
I cannot believe

Swirling in the delusion
You created
Your tainted caress
I hope we never ever met
But the smile that gave away
My trust
Your illusion

Now I'm so sick
of your *******!
Its clearer than ever
You dragging me in your downward spiral

You've tore me inside out
But I've finally figured out
What really must be done
No mercy! No remorse!

Oh my beautiful liar
You cold blooded *****!
Never I thought I would do this.
Now I'm on my knees
You brought me down to your level...
vohnul buchet May 12
I'm dying by hunger
he said
and I remembered about
all these ruined places
and its children
and their mothers
no
you're not dying

you just still don't have enough capacity
to realize
that you don't need a new jacket
and shoes
you own muddy ones in the hallway
and the others you don't like
*******
give me
a better reason

and try
to swallow your dreams
and keep them
in a digestive tract
to the last second
of not giving a ****

as the ones who are trying to fall asleep now
on the pillow of tomorrow's death
Maybe there is a grammar/meaning mistakes in my poems as English is my second language. Glad if you'll warn me. Thank you.
bees May 2
i think of you every now and then
but recently all too often
wondering if i've crossed your mind

i reminisce the past of witnessing your beautiful smile
your voice that is forever so mellow
your deep dark eyes that I dare not to stare for too long
for i fear i would drift into it
and of course the moments when i catch you glancing at me

i wish i told you how I felt
because clearly you felt the same
but part of me was glad that I didn't
for i know our time together would be fleeting

either way it would cause the same dreadful
emptiness i'm feeling most of the time
and i pretty much prefer the latter for ineffable reasons

each day i'm becoming of the person i want to be
but i feel nothing much changed
because i still have this void in me
to the rain of my forest.
Sometimes I want to confess
How much I depend on a substance
To write something fresh and new
Something built on drunken faith and chance
Build my sonnet to rhyme
In my drunken stupor
My words founded on the dime
And the meaning without who, for
An unsung meaning to her
Him be bewildered
And world be condescending
What the two want together
Be condescending
As if I can describe
The feeling I burn to identify as mine
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2019
Move big start small the golden ratio
is always 1.618 something is never 2.
But gives the formula to design flawlessly on the go
from micro to macro level all the way to the true north!
Anya Sep 2018
In second grade I got
an honorable mention
In the piano state

For those of you who don’t know
This competition has a first place,
I’ve forgotten the name
Runner up
And honorable mention
Below that was a 1
And a 2

I don’t know if
Only a certain number could
Be in each category
But I did know for each age level
There was certainly more than one

Either way, I was excited
Pleased

The next year,
I got a 1

The year after that,
I broke down crying
Thoroughly
Unprepared
And got a 2

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

And no that was not a mis
Type
That was really how it was

I switched piano teachers
And vowed I’d do better this time
But I spent most of my summer
Out of town
And I didn’t get the practice
I needed

The year after
I got a 1

This year,
I’m participating
Once again

And I’m tired
At the monotony of it all

But,
Can I actually
Overcome my laziness and time restrainsts and practice
The amount I need?
yellow-thoughts Aug 2018
You can't add sugar to my personality
boy i'm not as easy as coffee or tea
today i'm sweet as honey
tomorrow i can be sour as lemon
so choose your words wisely
Gale L Mccoy Aug 2018
oh I stuck my feet in the dirt again
and broke my toes on stone
I know well I'm not meant to be still
as my body bends forward of its own will
but to advance to the next level
I must stay here and grind bones on stones
or walk straight off into the abyss again
Phi Kenzie Aug 2018
When a professor asked me
to imagine I was in love with someone
‘what is it about them?’

I thought of sitting up
in bed or on a couch
talking all night
running fingers through hair

What I said was,
‘their hair’
and was told that that was superficial
So faux surface level plastic robot
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