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Zoe Mae Dec 2021
One day she turned where there was no bend in the concrete
Skipping in bare feet
It looked triumphant, but it was retreat
Far far back to the days before poetry
And gaudy words for all to see
She skipped into a past where she could keep it all in
Afraid to mutter a word
Not wanting to burden the wind
So she built herself a rocket out of satin and tears
She'll be orbiting Earth for the rest of her years
jdmaraccini Jun 2013
I am not a poet nor a mathematician, I did not major in science,
I majored in bad decisions, at least one I can call my own.

I am a misfit; I bleed words for a living,
we're all going to die my friends, I plan to die alone.

I am an artist through and through,
from each creative incision my hate for them consumes.
I have grown more lethal; I have become incurable,
I am a hideous villain this time I'm keeping score.

I pity the weak have you not heard of me,
if you have then you're a nobody too.
Cause I love to dwell with misfits, those who feel what I feel,
the glass is not half empty, the glass is definitely full.
It’s filled with poison for us to consume,
so, we embrace our world until our lives are doomed,
to the point, we can ****, to the point we feel terribly ill,
but before they **** us, we point our pen and spill.

And yet with blood I cry as the words keep on giving,
every single worthless day until the story ending.
Dear, world have you heard of me? I am the next great villain,
this is just the beginning as my words keep spilling.

One morning the rain fell over my head then time stood still,
that is when I realized how important the rain is.
That is when I realized time never stands still, it moves slowly.
Then it hit me, my words aren't ignored my words are lethal,
I figured it out some time ago but most of you have no clue,
a poetic death is wonderful as long as we set the mood.

I am a misfit; I bleed words for a living,
from each creative incision, you become a misfit too.
Daniserena Jul 2020
A fancy tuxedo and a black leather glove for each hand, could this be Patrick Bateman? or punk in a band?
no, it's Digital Man.
Yes a real man, with a screen head of course, would you look at him this strangely if he was a horse?.
He just goes about his day, and people judge and take pictures of him in each and every way.
He just wants to be treated like everyone else, and not put on display like some little mouse.
Why is society so blind and judgemental and cannot see, that I'm just like him and he's just like me?
Leisha Dias Jul 2020
Placed beside you
Or did I hypnotically walk to you
Was it a game of fate and destiny
Or was I simply charmed by your spell
Was I meant to be here
Or did I want to be here
All I can decipher right now is that,
I lie here and you beside me.
At such close proximity
Feeling you at every edge
Like two pieces of a puzzle.
A piece of puzzle with curves and edges
Rough curves and worn out edges
But did I really fit in?

I tried hard,
Just as I tried all these years
At all the wrong places
Chiseling my sharp edges into curves
Curves that would now fit perfectly
All the while, losing a part of me.
Just making me question,
Is this yet another wrong spot
Didn't seem wrong to the world
Then why do I still feel like a misfit
Like a square peg in a round hole
Or has this constant trying to fit in
Leave all my edges frayed
I no longer recognize anymore.

Still lying beside you,
Still dont seem to fit in,
Still questioning,
Is this yet another wrong spot?
Mercy Jul 2020
Today someone tried
To resolve my
Let go issues
I chuckled.

I can't narrate to them
The battle within
The one you let
Your guard down
Swallow your pride
And accept defeat
Despite the voice within to fight.

Another says He loves me
I look deep within
Their eyes and
Face a wolf hungry
Ready to devour their prey.

But you were my shadow
Where when the going gets
The tough kept going
And through my veins
Reigned trust
For when the light desipated
You closed-in within me
Keeping me warm.

But this time
Its cloudy and as nice
As it was to wake
Jump out to greet
You before me
This time i waited only
To get wet from the
Continuos druming
Of rain drops
My stomach flooded.

Each night oozing out
Bits of salty flows
From my fluffy reddened
Accepting some battles are
Won by bowing to
A drowned body starts by wearing off its spirit.
Zhavaed Haemaed Apr 2020
The stitch in mine
Is not like yours
A cut deep down
Into my soul
Am made of dust
From stars below
In shades I flourish
Deep dark I flow

At home I am
Inside my hull
Away from bias
Rubbed in salt
Away from dispute
Hatred immense
Inward I look
In my defense

Observer of time
A soul so old
Rivaling the titans
I stand so bold

Infuriating accession
From exterior advances
Yet trudging along
Onwards alone

I go
Zhavaed Haemaed Apr 2020
Can I rest now?
Spend the evening tracing roots
Try to grasp the awe i.e Poe
Doyle & Christie's original truth
Can I revere now?
At a genius' mind of old
While Chopin fills the backdrop
With his beautiful tones
Can I withdraw now?
From all the noise there is,
From all the ire there is,
From all the strife there is.
Can I just get lost?
For this moment that slithers,
For a retreat not far away,
To events not common today.
Go on what's stopping you?
Velvel Ben David Apr 2020
The vigor I took to flight
Fails to make a landing
Then flies away from me
I see it flapping its wings
And laughing in my face
Like a school ground bully
Laughing at the pretty boys
So shamefully faking
A mad ruthlessness
With no cause or call to act
Their juvenile jealousy
Is invisible only to they - them
For who wouldn't want to fly?
Kai Mar 2020
fidget and shuffle
the weight of it pulls me down
surrounded but alone
Prompt 5: How it feels when you don’t belong in a group of others.
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