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Kayla Gallant Aug 10
Where are you hiding
I’ve searched high and low
In the mirror
And in my soul
To no avail
I somehow managed
To misplace myself
Rough poem about how I've been feeling lately.
Ileana Amara Jan 6
i have left pieces of me to people i've loved,
i called it art; some remains close to me like home,
some are kept and never retrieved, relentlessly wandering ;
round and round in a museum filled of memories & history.

IA ☕
01.07.21. | it's been a while since i last wrote a poem past 3AM in the morning after having some coffee. here's my first poem for '21.
i also made a twitter & ig platform found at @ileanaamara_ , i'm planning to use it as a creative outlet of poetries, art, & spilled thoughts. although posts are yet to come, feel free to visit. :)
Nylee Jul 2020
The misplaced ... words
they do
  not find..
        a concrete   structure..
always half baked..

   missing  the     essence
       of     something great.
Poetic T May 2020
Misplaced deliberations,
        oh where did  I leave you?

Like mislaid socks,
              I wear
mismatched thoughts

nicely fitting but not right.
Axion Prelude Mar 2020
You found peace among the storm
I sought blindly in the distance
Once, our eyes met; no more
Forlorn, begotten, but misplaced
Regret is my eternal lover
We will never be that sultry fate
One missed opportunity at a time, I disgrace my life through incessant mistakes which rue the chance, lost to misguided nature and abhorrent misreprepresentation.

A prisoner to the mistakes and judgment of others, my heart wilts fervently, and forever now.

I lost.
Emily Mitchell Feb 2020
Burning at my mind
driven to frenzied action
by the need to find.

Harrowing the ground
exhausting every option
until it is found.

Healing an old wound
soaring heights of elation
finally unbound.
This was inspired by the time I lost this tiny book of poems that I wrote all of these poems in and it triggered one of those oh my gosh I have to turn my house upside down obsessively until I find it moments... I searched for about an hour finally found it thank goodness I hate that feeling of being stuck looking for something it plays into my stubbornness but it is inconvenient... although it is a great feeling when I finally find whatever I lost
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
Told me to close my eyes and count to ten,
I counted down to one and then back up again.
It almost feels like it’s a crime
how blatantly I waste my time,
what does it matter? If it would shatter, it would still be mine.

Nightly I brush my hands against the dark sky,
I know it’s painted with splotched stars but not seen by the eye.
It’s creating ice cold fingers,
and a chill that lingers,
though bold, I was never a fan of cold.

It’s just that I’m trapped in another space,
my time and reality are lacking trace,
I’m right that I’m in the wrong place.
Or maybe we’ve just all been dead for years,
no one wants to add to their fears,
but the thought is turning gears.
It’s plausible, not impossible.

Told me to close my eyes and spin around,
counter and clockwise I whirled until I was on the ground.
I feel too old to play hide and seek,
strong night vision but perception’s weak,
I’m lacking balance, it’s never been in my talents, it’s looking bleak.

It’s just that I’m trapped in another space,
unable to alter my choices in this case,
the isolation and void I just can’t face.
Or maybe I’m just separated from the galaxy,
outcasted from the place I’m meant to be,
stuck in the shoes of an alternate reality Emily.
Growing more deranged, some things don’t change.
b e mccomb Apr 2019
two concepts
dance around
in my mind
from time to time

the first one is
small towns and
familiar faces
streets with grass
growing in the cracks
and parking lots with
the footprint of my
disintegrating shoe
pressed into fresh asphalt

streetlights that
come on to let
me know it’s time
to go home
a soft place
to call my own

the second one is
intriguing and scary
traffic and lights
and people and buildings
that fight to reach
into the clouds
an unfamiliar city
with corners and caveats
to explore for the first time

lights that never
burn out
restless crowds
to fade into
as soon as someone
learns your name

two very different thoughts
both equally
concerning in
two very different ways

complacency or
out of place?

i refuse to give
myself an answer
or maybe i’m afraid
to let myself wander

but a third question
knocks on my
skull and
lets itself in

and i can’t help
but wonder

what does
five in the morning
feel like when you
can’t see the sunrise
casting shadows
on empty fields?

does the world still
find a moment to
release its breath
before the day begins
when the city didn’t
even sleep the night before?

what if i don’t
belong here?

which outcome would
leave me least misplaced?
copyright 4/21/19 by b. e. mccomb
Sienna Jan 2019
like a tumble ****
rolling down a city street—
i dont belong here

and i know it.
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