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Asominate Jan 2019
"Why don't you just use a filter?"
Because I don't like being fake
"Come one, it'll make you look better!"
All the unnecasary effort for unknown people's sake?
My cousin was asking me to take a selfie with her using snapchat, and this was our conversation.
I hope I'm not the only one that have a deep probably unjustified hate for filters and photoshop etc.
Asominate Jan 2019
Sometimes they're many
Sometimes they're few
Unpractically pretty
But they will do

Flowers in my garden
The only things certain
The only faces I know
Who'd remain true as they grow

They may blossom like my growing fear
The may wither like my sanity
They are stifled by the thorns
Like the skin I'm in, well-worn
They are suppressed by the weeds
Like the guilt in me

Flowers in my garden
I am quite certain
We're the same
But I'm embodied in flesh

Flowers in my garden
I beg your pardon?
What do you mean that you don't exist?

If you leave, what'll happen to me?
Tried to write a positive poem, but I'm not one to lie in my poems.
WhiteWolf101 Jan 2019
she is my world
she makes me smile
every time I see her
I can't think of life without her
she is my angel when I go thru hell
she is my light when I only see the dark
she is all I ever wanted
she is my love!
I love my baby girl
Austerity is my abode
Benevolence is my sigil
Amour-propre is my ethos!!
©shadeofalonelygirl
All original content
Please repost with credits:)
Bethany M P Dec 2018
Some say this isn’t right,
Some say I should give up my fight,
Some say I am weak but I am not,
Because believe it or not I’ve
survived a lot,
But I clawed myself out of the pit I fell in,
You can call my life a lie or a sin,
But I am me and I am strong within
Asominate Dec 2018
I wear my masks to make it better
I anxiously wait as I see the three grey dots dance on my screen
I don't see the point in painting merry smiles to hide the truth
I wear the skin that makes me scream

I’m sorry that things have changed
We aren’t the human I used to know
My mind and my heart have had their exchange
And the fears that have been caught up with at last begin to show

Lying has never felt so fulfilling
I’m about to fall apart again
Monsters shouldn’t exist, now could be their time of killing
But the shadows in the corner of my mind won’t let me rest

I cut the meat and stuff the flesh
To feed the bottomless stomachs of finites
The damage done lives in my veins
It only gets worse, we can’t hope for the best

On the edge-ridden surfaces
I throw myself and is comforted by talking meat
The nation reaches its loving arms out to inflict me
But non-existent persons shouldn’t be acknowledged.

I’ll never be real enough for the talking flesh.
I'm sorry
Cledentine Nov 2018
[1]
Born from the darkness,
Came from all the agony,
And came to take life.

[2]
Chaos, the name he bears
Written with all shed blood.
That is his name
Who everybody fears.

[3]
His tower of pain
And throne of suffering.
His diadem of greed
With the cape of misfortune.

[4]
What is wanted to exhume
Is what he entombs.
What is to forget?
Is what he reminisces.

[5]
Oh the woe to take
Is the pleasure he seeks.
Even the courageous
Cowards up bring.

[6]
These shackles
These walls
These shards
These thorns

[7]
These are the things
That I should overthrow.
Yet!
Yet I cannot.

[8]
For even the deity that I have
For pure goodwill
The deity that I have
Are all against his will?

[9]
For I am the opposite
I am the good
I am the benevolent
I am the enemy

[10]
I, his enemy
Though benevolent
Though righteous


[11]
I, his enemy
Though honest
Though pure

[12]
I, the enemy
Have fallen in love

[13]
To the one who caused pain?
The one who's ecstatic in wars
Attached to bloodshed
Rules ruthlessly over unforgiven souls

[14]
I fell in love
Yet I have to win
He fell in love
Do I need to win?

[15]
We are opposites
Living the opposites
Opposites that fell in love
Yet one must win

[16]
He is Chaos
And I am Concord
Both to act
How we should act
Both to think
How we should think

[17]
I fell in love
Yet I have to stop
To where I should just be

[18]
He is in love
But has to stop
To where that he should be

[19]
And though pain and suffering,
Would still be consistent,
Good will be there
To make even a little difference

[20]
But I won't win
Nor he will win
Not I to rule
Nor he to rule


[21]
For even Chaos
Only causes chaos
And I, Concord
Would only cause concord

[22]
Both won't be in existence
If one overthrows the other.
Both won't be in existence
If one isn't meant for the other.
I joined a group publication of our school, this is the piece that I submitted... I hope you enjoy.. :) :) :)

Warning... Poem is long.. Hahaha
Tiphane Moraa Nov 2018
Stop worrying about me,
Stop discussing me,
Stop thinking I’m bothered about the **** you do,
Stop worrying about who I **** with,
Stop worrying about who ***** with me,
Moral of the story;
My life is not concerning you.
I got me,
Get you?
Jesse stillwater Sep 2018
Not many people know
where the old road goes
I’m older now and it seems
there are more and more
       paved roads
that lead to nowhere —
   most of the time

As a kid, living miles up
  a rough potholed,
country road — a hike away
from the edge a small town
  out in the sticks,..
you come to know onliness,
blind to a journey alone

   I never stepped on
cracks in a town sidewalk —
  never learned what
  "superstitious" was,
    like the other kids
        from town

It wasn't the cracks
  in the sidewalk
I feared to tread;
steppin' on 'em breaks nothing
  already broken —

It was just all so different
than the long walk home
where that old road goes —
grandma always said:
"follow the creek upstream;
it'll always lead you back
  where you belong"


   The washboards
in the steep narrow road
up the hill, were like
  muddy stair steps
in the rainy season

Sometimes I followed
on up the creek below
to the upper log bridge
     swimmin' hole,..
where I learned to listen
to the sweet melody
of unclouded days;
and for a moment
I thought I belonged

     I still haven't
found my way out
  of this memory
I’m holding onto —
because life is just
an unstoppable
season, passing by
    on its own;
   like the way
     rainwater
  in the swollen
creek bed flows:

   And I'm just
another passing September
no one will remember —

   most of the time


Jesse Stillwater ... September 2018
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