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mythie Jan 2018
In this day and age.
We're all pressured to write something original.

But with every piece of art in this world.
Every single thing being written.

We're inspired by different things.
Isn't everything fan-fiction?
Katie Read Jan 2018
I think I might be drowning?
Drowning?
Frowning and crowning myself a queen, because that's what I'm told I am.
I am by all intents and purposes; human in the flesh.
I've seen love and labour lost too many times,
I've seen cost and favour tossed to one side.
I'm a lean, mean regurgitating machine.
I give out party favours like I'm frightened to bite the hand that feeds.
I'm a photocopy of my own originality,
With the PERSONALITY of tracing paper.
I look in the mirror and marvel at myself growing thicker,
My imagination getting thinner,
My appreciation depreciating at the very thought of my dinner.
What can I eat but calories on a stick?
Thick,
                         thick...
                                          thick.
Each mouthful a new trick conjured by someone trying to tease me, Ease me into a wobbling lump,
A frump,
A place where they can dump their new ideas and findings,
Their light bulb moments so blinding they lead people like me to their deaths.
Because what do I need but another mouth to feed?
The mouth in my brain that's desperate for instruction,
Construction,
DESTRUCTION of its cells.
Each thought more macabre than the last as I dissect the absolute FARCE that has become my identity.
I am by all intents and purposes human in the flesh.
A sack full of bones and DNA,
Of which, so they say, differ from body to body.
And yet I'm a clone of everyone I've known because everyone's left Their imprint on me.
I may not have wanted it but I had no choice,
No voice,
No ability to say no.
Because I couldn't find the right words to dictate what I wanted to say.
My tongue wouldn't move in an articulate way,
So I forgot how to speak.
And now I find myself silenced; a mute of imagination,
A lack of creation,
Practically a crustacean- I'm a mere shell of what I once was.
Which brings me back to drowning.
Drowning?
In waters so harsh but land is so sparse how do I get back?
Because creativity is the building blocks of humanity without we are Lost out to sea.
BSeuss Oct 2017
I thought I was writing
new forms of poetry.
I realize now it was not
at all to be.

people whom read my works
must be kind for not
boycotting my hypocrisy.

apologies
Mida Burtons May 2017
Perfect
A very confusing yet consuming word
Everybody wants to be perfect
Yet they don't know what it means
Nobody is Perfect
Nobody has ever been perfect
Sure people can think you're perfect
But you can't be perfect to every single person
There are different images of perfect
Every single person strives to be their image of perfect
But I know I don't
I know that I can never achieve that goal
So I strive to be original
Be weird
An outcast
Crazy
An individual
Me
Mark Lecuona Apr 2017
Disguises No More

I don't have to make a change
The desert is always wet
the clouds are always dry
I don't make it happen
The mood figures itself out

There might be a girl walking
Somebody about the lord talking
My car drives back and forth
Trying to decide which one is me
I stopped thinking about where to go

My disguise is laying on the floor
My why's walked out the door
I'm a banjo playing like a guitar
I'm not born to play a certain way

I don't really try to do anything
The first thing in my mind is a story
It will make sense after I'm gone
Somebody might tell me what it means
That's how we get to know each other

I'm not going to duck anymore
The birds gonna fly by either way
Standing still is being part of the action
You can feel a good fire next to a cactus
The distance in the sky is bigger than now

My true self doesn't need me anymore
It became what it never was before
They look the same but it's a different star
The way they move tells time a different way
Diana Alarcon Nov 2016
Once you told me that I was like an Ice queen.
When I pointed out to you
that ice queens were usually blonde
you said, "Okay then. You look like a wax doll.
The kind your mother puts up on a shelf in your room
and tells you not to touch. One that stares out at you,
with imperious, unsentimental eyes
and an air of unpredictability.
One that you take down off of the shelf
when your mom isn't home
and hide in the basement in the back of a closet
and have nightmares about.
Is that better?"
It was.
Poetic T Oct 2016
You skim my ink, but do not read between the depths of
my expulsion. Only reading in the shallow pools, then lifting
your eyes from my thoughts and dry lightly.

Creativity is not a syllable or a word, it is that which
utters in the mind and lingers there in reflections of what
was said but imbues new deliberation.

I care not for your pity but give originality its dues and
not the same old same old that is just a whisper in a
crowd. I shout and you will listen to my ****** words.
Kelsey Lauren Oct 2016
Why would I change for you?
Believe me, I wanted to.
But at the same time I wasn't going to sacrifice my personality.
All of the things that represent my originality.
I thought with you it might be different.
My identity is not insignificant.
So I told you to simply get out.
Because apparently appearance is all you care about.
Not gonna lie...
I was super mad/frustrated when  I wrote this
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