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She stumbles crookedly, confused by the pure hatred in their eyes,
She cries, afraid of the blood slowly seeping from sliced palms and soles.
She reaches out, only to be scorned by those who are to love her,
She covers her ears, as rage-filled words, echoes incessantly, cutting deeper into the wounds.
She hides in her own little dark corner, as she feels the pain their powers bring.
     Aren't villains the only ones that
     They should hurt?
     Does that make her one then?
She falls deeper, deeper down the rabbit-hole - deeper into the toxicity that is her life,
She scars harder; becoming more wretched, surrendering to the demons that haunt her.
She's disregarded by the powerful; she's scorned by the weak.
Its  s e m p i t e r n a l.
     "You cant become the hero."
She knows this, known it for so long now.
      No; everyone says she cant be the hero -
      Why not be the villain instead?
                                                        ­      By: Jenay Long
Originally made for a book idea, now an individual poem. After all if you can't be the hero - become the villain instead
Sasha Raven Mar 11
"A phenomena: We listen nowadays music, mostly with our eyes and not anymore with our ears. We are becoming blind and deaf." - ©Copyright: Sasha Raven
acacia Mar 8
I look at you... and I just, I dunno, I want to know what you taste like -- but not in that way, not in the way you might want to. I know I shouldn't but it's the strangest urge to me. I want you to feel all over me. ****** my tail the way you do when you grab a fish from a lake; dig into my skin with your fangs like you do when you bite into cooked meat; hit me with your fists the way you punch the wall; I just want you all over me.
Lujane yearns for Israel the way a dehydrated being craves the slightest drop of water.

good night
Wayward Mar 4
What is it about you that holds me smitten? Is it,

These hands,
These hands that send me to ecstasy.
These hands that entwine with mine.
These very hands that hold me close to you.

These lips,
These lips that caress my body, loving me, kissing me.
These lips that whisper "I love you".
These lips that entitle me as your wife.

These eyes,
These eyes that look into my soul.
These eyes that hold promises of tomorrow.
These eyes that are drunk with love, love for me.
These eyes that see me and accept me for who I am.

This heart,
This heart that cares for me.
This heart that would chose me over and over again.
This heart that loves me.
This heart that belongs to me.
Oh the fantasy.
O hope y'all experience a love like this
Stay weird, stay wayward!
Much love xoxo
When I was a young man, fighting the system,
All alone, insecure in my skin,
Hiding the pain & the madness within,
I followed the crowd & tried to fit in,
But the battle inside was taking it's toll,
& I Truly believed I would never grow old,
Became clear as I started to stumble,
My body broke down, caved in & crumbled.

As a young man I was hyperactive,
On the move, always distracted,
I couldn't be myself, I was so unattractive,
Wearing a mask, I was always acting,
Putting on a brave face,
I couldn’t keep up, so I travelled at my own pace,
I needed my own space,
I never had a mirror on the wall in my own place.

Don’t you run, face your fears,
Just dry your tears, I say,
Don’t you run, face your fears,
Just dry your tears.

Full of excuses & ill demands,
Asking myself where the **** do I stand,
I was so full of hatred, ready to attack,
I didn’t know what was real,
Didn't know how to act,
But my back is against the wall,
& I need help facing reality,
Because the lines are blurred,
& I need help finding clarity.

I don't wanna walk this walk no more,
But I keep getting pushed by an unknown force,
I was an unborn spawn,
All tucked up, still safe in the warm,
I was given no choice in the matter,
My umbilical cord was torn,
& they took me out of the arms of my mother,
When I needed her care & I needed support.
Rambling on.

Akshay Feb 21
Happy about...
Today I feel different than earlier...
I am happy about this change.

Today I feel the original me...
I am happy about this sweet little me.

Today I feel to leave back all guilt...
I am happy about my innocence.

Today I feel to live the new me...
I am happy about this rebirth.

Today I am happy about this change...
This is what I feel is life.

This is my first poem.
its weird to live
where past and future pulls you
in  its black hole
emptying every essence of you
like you are nothing.

its weird to live
where original
is covered with fakes
and being original are
labelled as freaks

its weird to live
where people look
at your mistakes
when the already have
loads of their own.

but its beautiful
to live in the world
where words help me
to escape my own truth
and find peace

its beautiful
that even though life
seems meaningless and purposeless
the meaning of some collective words
makes living purposeful.

hey writers ........ i am a 17 years old mess and i need a help
Max Feb 10
Call me the outlaw of the modern age.
Modern age
Puffball Feb 9
I've been thinking 'bout you,
You've put a spell onto me.

Pure love'll make something new,
A future I want to see.

Crystal blue polka-dotted skies,
I wish I knew love could be this fine,
Tell me a story, do you love me,
I'll be a party, let's make a movie

I've been thinking 'bout you,
When I feel this type of free,

Play me,
A song we can mingle to,
My soul is ready to sing,

Is it just my mind, you're so ******* fine,
Just like my love, and a bottle of red wine,
You're my favorite story, replaying till the morning,
You've captivated me, now I'm stuck, because...

;P When I sang it, I thought it had potential.
Shofi Ahmed Jan 27
Zero is enduring
zero is deathless.
Nothing is up to it
none can mirror it
though forever
it's an open case.
The eyes are yet to
see an open face!

Because like it's
none is in perfect shape
purely a perfect circle!
Nothing match close to it
like Fathima is none else!

Ever more sprawling pi decimals
never go unnoticed propelling
to the end surge before her.
Before the original one
Fathima is yet to be mirrored.

All the planets turn circular
before the unseen perfect circle.
Fathima nails it snapped it up
circled it with her hair!
Before the furthest sighted eyes
dot at the earth centre
at its pool of primitive water.

Fathima embeds in a loop of her hair
thus supercharges the water!
It finds the cut, the golden ratio,
constant continuity in her hair's inner flow.
And banged Big Bang
there they breakthrough!
The potential worlds to be
from the first drop of water
she gets them all bang out.
From down the rock bottom,
from the zero null
Fathima finds and raises the sun!

Nothing is comparable to it on the ground
nor up on the high, we only see the fire
of a heavenly phenomenon is beyond the sight!
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