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Capriccio Dec 2019
So you say PINK is the color of BLUE
Blue meaning me and You
Blood and tears sweat sadness from fears
I am full
Yet we are empty
Maybe it's just me

I'm a pink period monster
Who death had begun her

Death of Innocence
'Death of Silence
Death of Normalcy

Because between you and me
We can be free
PINK, red
Ice BLUE to undead
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
go to school
obey authority
follow tradition
join society

go to church
worship god
get married
get a job

pay rent
be responsible
have children
stay faithful

work harder
be productive
rest and silence
are ******, seductive

wear clothes
don’t offend
don’t care
just pretend

act normal
stand in line
grow old
now you die
Written ca. 2016
Rianna Jul 2019
If I were blessed with normalcy,
I would not value the flutter
Of my heart, as it spies
A surprise greeting
A friendly smile.
No palpitations,
Involuntary twitches.
It throws back .
A friendlier smile,
A lively chat.
Without vacant stammers,
Or painful grins,
Joy carefree,
Like a castaway wave,
Casually recedes
Off a glimmering ocean.
And when the encounter repeats itself
I will bear no shame,
Or race away in reluctant haste,
The grand, nail biting retreat,
Unable to speak.


I would barely brace,
As the lunch bell rings,
And smoothen the grin on my dimpled cheek.
Smoother than the slip,
Of a phone into my pocket.
Cause when I zip down the hall
And seek,
strange familiar faces,
For the fun of it,
Desperate typing,
Has no place.
There’s no need to sell pathos
To a pair of kind eyes,
Then lunge in for an awkward sip
Of juicebox compassion.
A daily fix.
Instead I’ll wait
A grand, weighty two minutes
And practise compassion,
Saving places,
In a line too long,
before they come
shoulder slapping, rag-tagging
Idiosyncrasies.
Nonsense and hilarity,
encircles me.

As I catch myself swirling,
I struggle to be freed,
From the dazzling sway,
Of this,
Cruel, cruel daydream.

With a hollow, dry cackle,
I'll concede,
"Oh, If I were blessed with normalcy!"

Won't that be,
Just funny.
Thanks for reading my work. Feedback is always appreciated.
SMS Jun 2019
I told myself I was different
I didn’t excessively bleed
No one could see anything
I was doing just fine.
To me cutting became expected.
For others it wasn’t okay, but for me?
Just a daily routine
As normal as brushing my teeth.
Habits
Ahnaf Jun 2019
In this world,
there are some of us who get left behind
because we don’t fit the bill.
A bill that is arbitrarily in place and which
makes some magnificent, many perfectly normal,
and some of us a bunch of unworthy f*s who don’t
deserve affection, attention, and any of your time.

Go on, erase us from your narrative, from this world’s narrative,
erase us completely because our bodies are a certain way,
because it would require you to change your perspective slightly
to accommodate us into your view,
because there’s a billion to choose from who are perfectly normal

We might as well be not human because some of us don’t get to
experience human joys strictly because of how we look.
The least you could do is understand very clearly this fact
that for whatever reason, not all of us are able to experience being a human in the sense that most of you are able to
I've been struggling for years with my body image related trauma. This was just a quick rant to ease the tension I had been feeling before I put the words down.
Mehek May 2019
Normalcy is surreal
So surreal that it almost feels real
Trying to absorb it all
We get stuck in this timeless pitfall
In the end just callousing
If we could've done something different from it all.
.
.
.
Mehek
So surreal that it almost feels real.
Mehek May 2019
The emptiness did not swallow me today
it was normalcy in which I lay
life seemed possible today,
the black hole in me had no sway.
.
.
.
Mehek
In short, I was happy
Madisen Kuhn Oct 2018
i hope you revel in the normalcy
when you feel the sunrise on your skin
walking down a brick path
i hope you breathe in the morning
hold the ordinary close to you
like a life that almost didn’t happen

because for some of us
it didn’t happen

i have never felt the blissful repetition
in being surrounded by what is expected
standing in seasons and looking at skylines
that your mothers and fathers
have stood in and looked at
mothers and fathers who do your laundry
when you come home to a home
that has smelled the same
for the past twenty years

so i hope that you laugh and drink
a little too much
and kiss people who make you feel seen
i hope you listen to bad music
and hug your friends too tightly
and skip your eight a.m. just because
you need slowness and stillness
and a coffee from the corner
and a breath of fresh air
in the morning
on a brick path
with the midday sun
on your skin
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