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Annie Oct 2018
I am soft.
Soft like a peach.
Peachy like a peach.
Curvy,
pinkish,
yummy like a peach.
Soft like little kisses.
I love little kisses.

Strong.
I am strong like a girl.
Fight me, I bite,
not just peaches.
I am strong
of tongue and heart
and arms and legs.
Strong like carved muscle.
I love my muscle.
I write a poem every time I turn another year older; here is nineteen years old.
Joie Yin Oct 2018
When I was nine
I went to school
Enjoyed hurdle race
Laughed often
Yet to have goals
Love my family.

When I was nineteen
I stuggled in studies
Friendship dilemmas
Laughed lesser
Set to work on aims
Began to love life.

When I am twenty-nine
I have embraced life
And my own shortcomings
Smile more
Let life flow as it is
Love humanity.
Joie Yin
city of flips Jul 2018
wants to be my friend, for I am poet-woman nineteen.

she is sweet but sad. super sad.

a good poet who wants to guide me.

but there/theirs is the odor, not faint, of wants wanting,
the pus of corruption behind the curtains,
the Wizard-ess of Oz's
special blackout curtains.

seen how easy, how her illusions,
my medium rare rejections,
morph into her delusions,

and her delusions devolve into
her conspiracy theories.

"SHE will be my mentor, poetess lover, teacher for no charge!"

my parents thinks it's great, she wants (to be) skin in my game.

my parents will find this poem accidentally, exactly,

how I do not want
to be skinned alive.

for I am poet-woman nineteen and still! now, long past
the point of being fooled, the point of no return.

and see no point,
have no intention,
of returning to either valley

no more con the my mind into letting my body
be-fused.^
  

that ain't me babe.
Tiffany Scicluna Sep 2016
It was a time when I was alone,
as I always will and forever be...
tom weaver Jun 2016
Trumpets blaring
clouds parting
all staring
in a roar

He's come! He's come!
He's come again
we've too long
ached for more!

Indeed my children
I've woke again
with three years
under my belt

I've been up
and I've been down
I've been numb
and even felt

No longer a boy
of sixteen years
as my journey here
had begun

But you don't care, I have like- what?- three followers?

anyways, I'm nineteen now.

and don't bother, I'll make applause noises for myself with my mouth.
Ameliorate Feb 2016
To be nineteen again;
Blissfully ignorant,
Wrapped up in conversation that eventually lead me to be tightly secured in your arms.
Laid out together underneath the warm August moonlight.
We crept outback wrapped in a blanket and you made love to me as the sun came up on a rickety old lawn chair
I was so afraid of being caught,
But we were together and you kept me safe;
Until one day you were the one my heart needed protecting against.
Years pass, like time through the hourglass.

I forgive you.
cassiopeia miel Jan 2016
I remember being fifteen, fifteen and smoking huge amounts of green, ditching school to trip in the park, not really acting myself ’til it’s long after dark.
I remember being sixteen, sixteen and feeling mean, drinking rye whiskey and getting kinda tipsy. Shoving fingers down my throat and wishing I would choke.
I remember being seventeen, seventeen and unsure how to could handle myself; I didn’t want to ask for help. Pills in my body more than weeks in a year, life was the only thing that I feared.
I remember eighteen, eighteen, 100lbs. lean and living with a drunk man ’til I fought back, got choked and ran.
I remember nineteen, nineteen, new on the scene, now I’m dating Molly and she’s awfully kinda jolly but I’m ripping my wrists up and trying to pretend I’m not ****** up.
Twenty’s here and I’m s’posed to be responsible but I am terrible, all teeth and bile, remnants from when I was a ****** up child.
Twenty-one's just comin' up 'round the corner, I'm a little older and a lot bolder.
Eccedentesiast Sep 2015
i told you that i'll be moving on
but i lied
because i'm loving you more than ever
not mine but this was said to me before
Eccedentesiast Aug 2015
did you
destroy my world
just so
you could build
yours?
heather leather Jul 2015
one
on your very first birthday, you will hear many things
you will not be able to decipher them yet but
they will echo in your ear until you go to sleep,
you will hear about how big you've grown and how
beautiful you are or how beautiful you're going to be
and the highlight of your day will be when finally you
get to cut into that delicious chocolate cake that your
aunt made you and you will run around the yard
and laugh as you trip endlessly and the big kids won't play
with you but that's okay because you're one and you
don't really understand that strange feeling in your heart
when they say that you're too little to join in on their game
of tag and everything is so confusing because
your grandmother said that you were a big girl now but
somehow you are not big enough and you won't be for
awhile but you don't really care because in that moment you
are one and everything is an adventure for you;
from the wet grass in the backyard to the weird kisses your
older brother and the girl across the street exchange
but that just makes everything ten times more interesting
and you are still protesting even though it is futile that you
don't want to go to bed and even though you are still
forced to go to bed earlier than you want, you are happy
because today you turned one years old and you are big
enough to cut the cake with some help from your
mom but still too small to play tag with the big kids and the
concept is confusing but exhilarating and you cannot wait
for the next day and as your breathing becomes more
even you succumb to the dark and fall asleep and everything
is okay because you are one and you do not know yet
that when you are five your mother will stop making time for
you or that when you are ten everyone will stop caring about
your existence and that when you are thirteen the boy in your
school that you really really like will tell you that you are ****
and everyone else will follow and when you get to be
seventeen you will be so desperate to leave this misery called
life that you will try and force yourself to go into a
different type of sleep, the more permanent kind and your father
will say you're being an attention ***** and your
mother will start to wonder where she went wrong
and your older brother won't care because he won't find
out that you are depressed or sad until the day of your
funeral, when you are nineteen and finally asleep,
although this time; you don't try to fight it
instead you go willingly and succumb to the darkness
much like you did when you were younger and
unaware that life is not a great adventure, it
is more like a never ending **** that will make
you wish that you were one

(h.l.)
this was supposed to be a happy poem but noPE my hands have a mind of their own
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