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Jesse Sutherland Aug 2018
We worry and we wrestle
Day by Day
With the thought
We won't have enough
Our account balances
Sometimes as low
As our happiness.
And instead of wading
In life's treasured moments
Like some picturesque Hallmark
We sit in an ocean of frowns
Contagious they feed us
With the thoughts that
Maybe someday we
Might have enough
Maybe we too can
Have enough money
Where we can control
Our own destinies
And maybe if we just
Work hard enough
We too can join

The enlightened
The happy
The free
But as life's camera
Zooms out of focus
Our slave collars tighten
Around the dollars
We grip onto with our
Strength that slowly fades
Starving, as we stare
At some motivational story
Hanging on the mantle
Of our Master's mansions.
sadgirl Jul 2018
the girls huddle,
wallflower themselves
away from the bell-toll
of mean-girl chatter

gucci gang comes on,
& a few blood-boys
come out with juul-destoryed lungs
and sip their smuggled *** punch

someone shouts 'begone, thot'
& instead, i vanish,
into summer-stretched air.
you're only young once, &

then there's the in-between
of reunion. the late night fiends stay
until the sun peaks
through the cracks in the

façade of adulthood.
finally, somewhere near
the end of the night,
the intercom comes on.

the superintendent asks us to leave,
the bathroom is filled with brûléed vapor
& the ground has become as much of an ashtray
as the dirtied mouthes of those still dancing,

drunk enough to numb the memories of
the worst three years
of our collective life.
when the chorus of

**** that, *******
fades out,
it's because the system is
crackling again

& everyone's head is turning to the soft voice asking;

where are you now?
what have you done?
are you perfect yet?
They didn't let me read this poem at my middle school talent show.
David Lampert Jun 2018
.           Oh
.           middle
.           finger
How    I do        need
thy      simple    gest
to         handle   the
***       holes      who
oft       cross       the
rue      of my     day
concrete, pattern, or shape poetry
mk Jun 2018
somewhere between i miss you and i'll leave you
somewhere between you love me and you hate me
somewhere between the oceans and the air
somewhere between ****** and self-sacrifice
we're somewhere between the years and the memories
somewhere between let's start over and let's begin
somewhere between let it end and let it end
somewhere between i love you and you're still mine
somewhere between i'm killing it and i'm not fine
somewhere between come home and take me home
we're somewhere between the ages and the past
somewhere between the first and the last
they say the first year is always the hardest
but i'm still somewhere between ecstasy and death
do you want to start over? or just let it end?
mjad Jun 2018
I don't know
What we are
We are friends
But we love
Not each other
we love it
It's the fun
It's the moment
Action filled flame
Fueled by desire
Not quite passion
Moreso adolescent impulses
Adrenaline running around
We are living
Not really loving
Using the words
With empty meaning
Backed by actions
With casual intentions
I don't know
What we are
Though I know
We aren't in
The middle of
Three little words
we aren't in love
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Never aim too high
Never aim too low
Betwixt and between
Lies beautiful poetry

For the heat of the sun melts
The salt of the sea corrodes
Betwixt and between
The stories unfold

The souls combust
The spirits submerge
Betwixt and between
Our words emerge
They were steps away from death,
The one who wants nothing more,
Than to die,
Pulled back.

"We were made for more than endings,
We will walk to the end,
When we have done our beginnings,
our middle,
and our living."

"Have we not done it?"
The other one asked,
Tears in her lovely eyes.

The one with the sad middle of a life,
Smiled bright and big,
"No we have not.
But we will."

And so, they stepped back,
To an uncertain future,
But to a very certain hope.
here we meet yet again
caught between the truth and lies
almost can’t remember when
the last time silence felt so nice
the middle
Here I am
Stuck in the middle
Of doin' ok
And bein' alright
And I drink
Just a little
To get me through the night

So I fight
Here in the middle
Of where I am
And where I wanna be
Still I know
If I could only be still
God would fight for me.

But, I'm tired.

|b.g.|
A song lyric I wrote in response to the tragedy at GMHS on 3/20/18
Recovery is hard, and recovery for someone who already has PTSD is hard.
The tension of the in-between is very real.
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