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In the world of a girl, me,
there is always a story
waiting between the pages of life.

In every word, in every scene,
I catalog and dissect the meaning
of everyone and everything.
Like some sort of word scientist.

But life isn't always sunshine and rainbows,
sometimes it storms, and there is only grey.
I quite prefer the rain to the rainbow.

But I am not like everyone else,
who gossip about boys and sports
whilst putting on a pound of makeup in the morning.
I am...different.

And in this world, the difference is frowned upon.
So what if I dye my hair odd colors?
So what if I'm a girl with hair short like a boys?
That doesn't make me anything less.
I am more than they could ever imagine.

Just because I sit outside in the rain
or eat my lunch alone, headphones injecting lyrics into my skull
that only I can understand the meaning of
because my brain is my own, not anyone else.

And I don't care that I prefer the company of fake people on screens,
just so I can escape my miserable existence in the real world.
I don't care that I fight every single day just to make it through
and then realize I have to do it all again in the morning.

I don't care. Because I stopped caring a long time ago.
I stopped caring when my own brain decided to rob me
of everything I held dear and turned everyone against me.
I'm just a story in my own head, playing out like a badly written movie.
But that's okay.
Because I wouldn't mind it if I was just a story among millions.
That still means that somewhere,
someone is reading it.
I know it's long, I've seen longer
K 6d
Isn't it barbaric,
the things we've done and said?
And the way we tuck them neatly,
like cattle,
to the backs of our heads?
Isn't it barbaric,
the way I treat myself?
As though I am a stranger,
or a doll left on a shelf.
Isn't it barbaric,
the way you look at me?
So sweetly,
like you'd hold me,
for all eternity.
And isn't it barbaric,
the way that death takes life?
As though it had meant nothing,
even wrought with strife.
Many questions have been raised on my nature
The most of them by myself, but also by the people;
The funny thing in the huge number the questions assume:
They can be answered by one word: Vacuum.


From those questions, some may please me
Like "What art are those that may lead thee?"
Or "What limit has been reached by your knowledge?";
They are rare but I like when I'm asked on my storage.


While there are questions I barely like
Like "Why are you a person whom we barely like?"
Or "Why are you so different and not alike?";
Let's answer them by a single strike:


My nature is like the nature's nature:
There's no place where's no creature;
So, what I'm fighting is what the nature's fighting,
Where is darkness there must be lighting:


Vacuum, I'm all fulfilled with emptiness,
If there's ten planets I need a twentieth,
I wish to fulfill my eager to be fulfilled
Even if by the pressure of that knowledge I'll be killed.
29.04.2019
ME
What you see
It isn't me

I didn't go there looking for you
I went looking for me

But here you are
and somehow in finding you
I think I've found myself to
A poor room homed me in the childhood
With cold stone walls and a leaky stove;
Some days were spent under cover
With a hoody, a hat and pair of glove.


Nathless, there was no poverty of food;
My mother managed well the stew
With rice, potatoes and some carrots,
Her care cook'd a lot out of few.


Beside, the careless neighbours stood
With a lil bowl of sugar and eggs,
Trading on a sip of juice for gossips,
Paying the fee of the one who begs.


Way-outie, we were never even gloomy;
Despite the days of water and light off,
Mother managed the waves of hardship
Like the sailor's star never falling off.


Is a grace of God, the unfortunate broom
In which I scarce tasted thick happiness?
Sugar tastes sour after golden honey;
For rich, my treasure was unhappiness.


I enjoyed the oxford blue sky of the moon
While mom sweeped the streets for stubs,
I jumped up moon-high finding pennies
Far away the parties' hubhubs.


What a pity I feel now, for all the poor
Who had money, goods and no misery;
They know nothing what is life like,
But for true rich, life itself is glittery.
04.03.2018
Once upon a morning dreary,
On a wibbly-wobbly urban prairie,
I hit the road barely fearing -
As the fool who has no fearing -
And there came a car.


In a sudden, asked is it the end,
I'm not surprised, but how to pretend,
While I am always steering -
Just as badly as the driver's steering -
My emotions behind a striped bar.


Since the moment was so sneaky,
And the car's break creaked up creepy,
At least for the people seeing -
Hearing, if people were ever existing -
And not just imaginaire.


In that second's timeless land,
I had no social expression to send,
Signing to them that I'm living -
Lying to them I'm a human being -
So, I just stood bare.


And behind that timeless scene,
Angry drivers and people were seen,
With me standing there -
A guilty criminal sharing his despair -
A social monster without cover.
18.11.2018
Caitlin Oct 4
Lips painted to adorn myself
Oil bath, I take care of myself
Satin sheets where I please myself
Ripened fruit to feed myself
I bloom like a flower and tease myself
I grasp the sheets and I free myself
This pleasure is mine, I’m here for myself
Axel Sep 29
+
When the birds are singing tomorrow
While the sun is entering my room,
I'll wake up with water surrounding my place
But once I inhale and exhale,
Bet that I'll win every race.

Even if the dirt wants to dirt me,
Let it be, because I'm standing straight
And my eyes are now awake
From my heaviness sleep
And I'm fully ready to face everything.
Keep staying positive
Bede Sep 27
Cleaned up my poems
And my act.
May I take this as
Another gnomic lesson
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