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Alex Scaife Jul 27
Here's a funny thing 'bout clowns:
NOTHING. They eat babies and ****
Young men until they get their fill,
Hang kittens by their window sill,
Send texts from behind the wheel,
Name their daughters things like Neil,
Use way too much salt on every meal,
Leave you on read just for the thrill,
And put their names in your nan's will

Actually, the balloon animals are pretty cool I guess
Alex Scaife May 4
I want to be so smart like you.
I wish I could despise mountain dew
And hate flashy films like you do.
I can't appreciate gorgeous views
With sky scrapers and starry nights.
I like to see girls in black tights
And drunks that slur and start bar fights
Because they have a minor gripe.

Excuse me for my plastic taste
That comforts me on winter days.
I don't have good taste in anything.
Ally Barnett Feb 17
I used to sit and wonder
What it was like to be happy

But now I know

When you're happy
You laugh at the memes
Your friends send you

When you're happy
You come out of your room
And watch movies with your family

When you're happy
You love the brightness of the sun
And appreciate the colors of the sky

Being happy means
Windows down and music up
Even in the cold
You dance in the rain
And laugh until your chest hurts
You take pictures
And not just when you are smiling
But when you want to be goofy too

Being happy
Isn't all that easy

It can take a while
But the road to become happy
Is the best drive
I've ever gone on

With the windows down
And the music up

Even in the cold
KISS Jul 2016
I'm finnally happy
I have been sad for so long
It took a long time  to get
Where I am
I don't think it will last very long
But it is just a good start I have been sad
For so long I just did not know how real happiness felt
And know I know it is real
I don't think my happiness will stay for very long this is my first happy poem lol but it just might be my last
Rumi the poet Apr 2015
Your desolate heart is the only moor to which I am barren.....

It was a Saturday in November, yea I still remember. I confessed my profound feelings to what now appears to be a hollow frame of shattered dreams. And the distance between us seems to only lengthen. Well maybe I'm okay with it, maybe I really just don't give a ****. I've had enough of you deficating upon my desperate hopes. Tired of you spitting on me, tired of you ******* on me. Quite frankly, I no longer care to be here; in this feeding pit where you starve me love and fill me with false hope and pain. I can't stay's draining everything that I am and try to be, can't you're ******* killing me, constantly shoving me aside, guess what. The truth is, I stopped loving you for while.. now and I just feel so alive now. I feel free. No longer enchained by meaningless hi's and goodbyes, most importantly, no more compromise. I've stopped selling myself promising futures, I realised that I'd be broke if I kept buying into my beautiful sins. Sacrificing everything for the sake of you in my life, clipping my own wings and bearing a heart that knows of nothing but strife. You disgust me, the taste of your name on my tongue makes my blood boil and my face wry. You no longer have to accept me because this is goodbye for sure.I don't want you, I don't need you, I don't love you...anymore.
*anagapesis-the disembarkment of affection for someone or something you once loved
I don't know where it comes from,
this think called writers block.
It's not like I'm being rushed,
or held against the clock.

A word is a word is a word.
That's what I was taught.
A poem starts with a single word,
and help from a little thought.

They make it sound so easy,
Put together rhythm and sound.
But when i have no topic,
my thoughts just float around!

Around, around, around they float
but never in an order.
A dollar for my thoughts you think?
Or maybe just a quarter?

A quarter could be all their worth,
for nothings in my head.
maybe I'm thinking far too fast?
maybe its all in my head.
with writers block, sometimes the first word that comes to your head is your best fuel for a new piece.
and in this case, the first word was writers block.

— The End —