We're valuable things, you and I, that contradicts our own existence.
When we strive to become successful, we raise demons in our haste.
When we try to love others for who they are, we resent ourselves for our flaws and our imperfection.
We try to be kind to others, but we let the demons inside of our heads torture us.
When we suffer the pain, we take it in, but do not allow others to suffer their own.

We are valuable things, you and I, and I've learned from how we destroy each other.

We must pay tribute to the monsters who make us learn.
idk
To all the men who
Scratched me, pushed me,
And slapped me

To all the men who
Kissed me, missed me,
And fixed me

To all the men who
Loved me, played me,
and fucked me

To all the men who
Made me their muse
To the ones I didn’t
Spoke a word or refuse

To all the men who
Cried when we
Moved apart and
Tried to retain
Me in their broken heart

I am sorry that I
Have a luscious part
That lies between
My legs apart

Is it the only thing
You wanted from me?
Is it the only thing
That attracted you
Towards me?
Is it the only thing
You were thinking
About last night?
When you first saw
Me in the bar
With a pretty smile
On that face and a
Heart so scarred

Did you even asked me
If I wanted it or
You just assumed that I do
Because I am pretty enough
To understand and speak
The word no.

But now, when my heart
Pains and my beauty departs
Will you still hold me from
Back and do me saying that
“YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL”
They don’t know what it’s like,
To be in fear as they walk down the sidewalk,
With their keys in their hands, ready to defend themselves.
They don’t know.

They have no idea what it feels like,
To be watched,
With lustful eyes, going up and down their body,
They have no idea.

How could they know?
That every day they would need to survive,
Through the comments and the grabby hands,
How? Because they aren’t us.

WE know what it’s like,
To fight for our right,
To survive in this judgemental world,
WE know.

They don’t have everyone question them,
About their attitude,
About their virtue,
About their weight,
About their life.

They don’t get those damn cat-calls,
No, they are the ones doing them.
They don’t get their drinks spiked,
No, they are the ones doing it.
They don’t get harassed, every day,
No, they are the ones doing it.

Young, old.
Tall, short.
Small, big.
They don’t care.

We are alone.
We stick together.
We are SURVIVORS.
This is not meant to offend anyone, I only wrote because I wanted to, simple as that. this is about how men don't know what it feels like to be a girl unless the man/woman changed their gender, then I guess they do know. be sure to comment what you think and if you like this one, check out my other poems.
Ashley 7d
Two
Two tulips, two tulips.
The two tulips love each other. And they both love tulips.
The two tulips hold hands. People cry, people scream.
The Two are split up.
2 tulips become 1 tulip, and another tulip.
A tulip, forced to marry a rose. The rose didn’t have a tulip.
The rose only had a Rose.
“A tulip and a rose is the way to go.” People shouted through out the streets.
Tulips and Roses. Women and Men.
Gay? LGBTQIAPD?!
Devare May 18
You don’t put on makeup you are a boy.
You don’t wear high heels you are a boy.
You can’t walk like that you are a boy.
Take off that nail polish, that is for girls.
Go out for football, or soccer, or baseball or something.
You need to do something manly.
If you don’t do anything manly then what are you doing here?
If I catch you putting on makeup again, then you are gone, you are out of this house, I will not have a gay son in my house.
What made you decide to be this way, I have always taught you the way of being a man, don’t stand a certain way.
Go out with a girl I have never seen you with a girlfriend.
When you get a wife you will respect her, treat her with kindness.
What if I want a boyfriend? Then you are no son of mine.
you will not get your hair dyed. You will not be a faggot under my roof, your mom allowed that stuff to go on, not me I will not stand for this.
You either straighten up and find a girlfriend or you will be put on the street, with no one to care for you, no one to help you, or until you come to your senses and come crawling back to ask for my forgiveness.
I will never forgive you.
I will never come crawling back like a dog begging for food.
I am who I am if you can’t accept that then you are no father.
I will not sit here and let you drag me down, downgrade me to nothing, and tell me how to live my life.
Telling me I have to do sports, telling me I have to love a girl to be a  guy.
Telling me that I am not your son if I don’t stand a certain way or walk with a little swag or manly walk.
I am still a man if I love another man.
I am still a man if I wear lipstick or lipgloss.
I am still a man if I am in touch with my feminine side.
I am still a man if I try on my mother’s clothes because I miss her and hate her for leaving me with a homophobic, pathetic excuse for a father.
I am me and if you want to throw me out, then throw me out, just know I will not be alone because unlike you I have friends that support and love who I am.
I have friends that will care for me and will not let me rot on the side of the street.
ARE YOU A BOY! Society wants you to stray in the shadow of a man.
They do not want you to be your own person, they despise that.
Now I’m not saying all of society is like this, but there is still part of society that is like this.
Do not be the person society wants you to be, do not be the equivalent of the man they want you to be. Be yourself, be your own man, be you.
Deep Thought May 18
Can we talk about something real quick?
Do you remember what you did last night?
I do.

You remember that video you watched when ya girl went to sleep?
Yeah, I've done that too.
Although, in my case, at least I waited till she went to work.

If you say it can't be so, I'd be a big fat liar.
Women don't watch porn ,
I say the hell yes we do.
After-all it's so accessible, these desires of the flesh.

For the Women who have, know
you are not alone.
Yes, I have been there too.
My eyes forever tainted.

Next thing you know,
you start embellishing these images of the "perfect" man.

Guess what,
MR. "PERFECT" DOESN'T EXIST.
Fiction.

Face it, that muscle man eventually turns into an old man.
Matthew 5:28, 1 Corinthians 6:18-20, Romans 12:2, 1 John 2:16
Taiwo Olufemi May 17
Slow and steady
The pace at which my heart delineates
Glow and gliding
Yet, the result it generates
Flow and floody
The rate at which the world emancipates
Blows and bloody
Yet with this, greatness and progress are always enunciate
But, is it the result that is really bloody?
I think it's still the heart of men
The end will justify the means
The result will reflect the reasons
I won't mind the pace at which I think
I'll only be careful about the result it will bring
But as I analyse and appraise with my mind
I'll be mindful of the time
Time is money they say
Thought is honey I say
So far it yield a desirable and reasonable conclusion

A rolling stone gather no moss
A deep thought gives its result a gloss
Especially if with it you are engross
Pace though is an added advantage
The race should be won without a bandage
Nienke May 17
these days felt so good
it should have been
something you got
so badly i wanted
so manly you gave
so sadly i miss
now you are gone
i just can't stop thinking
about the look in your eyes
when you said goodbye
the anger in your words
about your past, no dad
the warmth of your hands
when we strolled the streets
why would you give me
why would you like to stay longer
send me messages about coming over
when you do not want to see me
another day
i will try to let you fade away
each time you push me into silence
i just wish i could understand your game
but nobody is going to tell me
so i can only guess
and try to forget

it just does not feel right
sara May 16
Hair long and dark like a silken night,
her eyes glazed over, lips pastel silent.
Every so often sips a cold long island,
no jazz musician but her feet tap in time and
she's skin like China, won't crack even for a smile.
While people try to please her she will only check the time and
she's not a people pleaser for she'll bore within a while.
Perfume carried by the breeze,
she's freezing, smoking outside.
Her cheeks are apple red but her eyes, quitely tired.
She claims your jokes are dead and then she'll laugh like bitter cider-
a bittersweet pink lady brought to life beneath the night's limelight
the apple of the eye of every single man in sight

He'll ask her if she knows this song
and she replies 'no, not tonight.'
He'll ask if she enjoys herself.
Blankly, she says 'yes, quite.'

The room a-brim with deep jazz sounds:
she sings sweet melodies aloud,
she sways as if no one's around,
she sighs, it doesn't make a sound.
Pourquoi pas?
.

Metre based on the new arctic monkeys album
Seanathon May 13
When a young man grows
And thinks not of of himself
He will find instead
Much thought
Of the framework which he can provide
The direction in which he will strive
And of the quality of those to reside alongside
Thoughts and how they grow and change over time. Becoming.
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