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Janna Orpa Nov 2020
She smiles at the world, I weep in the dark.

She is spontaneous, I am an introvert.

She has passion, I am lost.

She is the life of the party, I am unknown.

She is beautiful, I am chaotic.

She is cheerful, I am hollow.
She has it all together, I am in shambles.

She is me; I am her.
She hides me for she is my mask.
we all hide our raw secrets from the outside because somewhere deep down we know they wouldn’t accept us.
Janna Orpa Nov 2020
They all walked on the path that cascades down to a celestial land of light.
I followed them, they looked at me.
Something in their eyes made me feel uncomfortable,
I knew I didn’t fit in.
I walked away to an empty path.
A cold gust of wind sent shivers down my spine.
I looked for light but there was only darkness.
I continued.
Suddenly I could see a light following me but I couldn’t find a source.
I searched but I couldn’t see anything but darkness.
The light followed me.
I stopped looking for the source,
I admired the light.
It shone bright like a cosmic star.
It was never-ending.
I stumbled upon a small pond glistening like a sapphire under the darkness.
Lily pads decorated the pond like a Christmas tree.
I peaked,
I finally saw the light.
It was a reflection: my reflection.
I was the light.
I was like a dog chasing its own tail,
All along I failed to see the light within me.
she cared so deeply
yet felt like she
couldn't be more of an
outsider
and for no reason
overthinking caused her
to set herself apart
she couldn't see
that they cared
for her too
Leisha Dias Jul 2020
Placed beside you
Or did I hypnotically walk to you
Was it a game of fate and destiny
Or was I simply charmed by your spell
Was I meant to be here
Or did I want to be here
All I can decipher right now is that,
I lie here and you beside me.
At such close proximity
Feeling you at every edge
Like two pieces of a puzzle.
A piece of puzzle with curves and edges
Rough curves and worn out edges
But did I really fit in?

I tried hard,
Just as I tried all these years
At all the wrong places
Chiseling my sharp edges into curves
Curves that would now fit perfectly
All the while, losing a part of me.
Just making me question,
Is this yet another wrong spot
Didn't seem wrong to the world
Then why do I still feel like a misfit
Like a square peg in a round hole
Or has this constant trying to fit in
Leave all my edges frayed
I no longer recognize anymore.

Still lying beside you,
Still dont seem to fit in,
Still questioning,
Is this yet another wrong spot?
Elm Feb 2019
Crystal clear; Cleaned crystal
Window Washer; Watching World

This skyscraper's stories are his to tell.
He climbs the corporate ladder daily.

CEO's overlord office view
At lunch shared with Washer's chews.

His peers are his feathery foes
Yet birds make better friends than those,
That look right though him...
rhionna Feb 2020
lately
I feel like I'm floating
an outsider looking within
even with friends
this feeling never came up before
why do I feel it now?
stuck outside
set aside from conversations
left boxed off from friends
reduced to nothing but
an outsider looking within
trying to describe this weird way I feel as of late
ardnaxela Feb 2020
the Rose that grew from concrete...
the delicate face
of a fragile beauty...
guarded by some tough exterior -
dutifully unacknowledged.
indeed, achieved a great a feat
but still
buried underneath their feet.

everyday trodden;
not once a chance to thrive -
effects of a circadian stampede.
A Rose
that grew for a simple life,
but the beauty within had died.

Her leaves she let wilt,
took every blow she was dealt -
dull thorns now to speak for.
color drained with a droopy stem,
wishing away dark clouds
so then maybe
she would
See more.

Rose.
could she have had it all?
her existence left her nothing.
party of one and the place is full of Rocks.
a stand-alone soldier in a grave situation;
the hurt wouldn't stop coming;
should we pray for such mercies?
she figures...

no singular mercy could unseal her fate
the blade of society is sharp and
against her soft petals it continuously scrape

...when you've felt one pain you've felt them all.
senseless emotions
trigger moisture in the stigma
finally a drop of color -
to the concrete it would fall
rich red
like the Flower
that once cracked those gray walls.
I was inspired to take poetry seriously by Tupac. The Rose That Grew from Concrete - the first poem of his I read. This poem was inspired by that one, and emotions I was feeling about myself, my relationship and others around me at the time. This was originally written in 2015. Thanks for reading.
Growly Wolfus Dec 2019
When you see someone you love slowly fade away,
a little part of you dies.
Watching their laughing eyes turn red
filled with tears and hatred towards themself.

You know you're an outsider to their pain
and feel you can't do anything to help.
Every time you try
they respond with "I'm fine"
and shut you out with a face hot with shame.

Hopeless and helpless
they lie to your face
whilst crying in your arms
before saying they're "ok"

depressed...

                                                     ...tired...
They think they're worthless
and cut themselves to release some of the anxiety
Their blood staining your clothes
as you watch from the sidelines

It doesn't hit you until...

                                            ...it's too late...

                                                                                   ...they're
                                                                                              gone...

So lend them a hand,
embrace them in your arms,
comfort their tears,
tell them you understand,
and tell them they're not "fine",
that it's ok to be sad,
                           and you'll always be there
                                             to keep up their smile.
You may be an outsider to their pain,
                    so break down the wall and let yourself in.
We all get sad sometimes.  But seeing others depressed makes me feel even worse, especially when I know I can do something.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
antwone the gang leader always
be like: imma make a call; two
minutes and they here

regardless what the issue about:  
antwone always about dat
(and they always come for sure)

me? i ain't made for that
me just tizzop
ain't belong to antwone's
brotherhood

even if i wanted to:
they wouldn't let me

dem dudes roll heavy
while i note down outsider dreams with white ink on
black pages
you feel me?

antwone's dudes addicted to
drive-by-shootings
i'm deep inside; yet no part of that;
my handz not made for glockz

my hands are made for pens;
i'm from the ghetto; who cares?
my hands are made for pens
and if i'm broke i will
write with sparkling fingers

that is for certain therefore my death will be silver
my eyes be shiny like gold then
god is always by my side

you feel me god? good cause i feel you god (HEART)

last breath: tizzop's dead body will be floating on air
because a good man does the right thing (i want to be good)
dead brotherhoodlums be munched by icy blacktop
you feel me?
eternally doomed down there without air
i won't be there  

i am from the ghetto
who cares?  
my hands are made for pens

* WRITE TO SURVIVE
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3446210/a-good-man-does-the-right-thing-ii/

Mind dem families in the projects who sleep on the floor cause they don't wanna catch dem bullets.
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