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MSunspoken Jan 10
I may be mute but I can promise you this,
I know better than most,
of this long dark abyss

I watch from afar,
all the mistakes that you make
and how you hastily cover them
adding icing on the cake

Though I may not be perfect
and my throat is made of ice,
I have a voice of silk,
simple yet precise

A house made of brick
I stand strong in the presence ,
of the tiny cardboard cookie-cutters
built weak without foundations

so kiss my hands
and bow at my feet,
bending to my will\
and admitting your defeat
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Exposed to types of poetry
a coterie
of poet friends
great poems pen

I wish that I could read them all
from that I fall
the mountain climb
there is no time

How satisfying to belong
we're growing strong
our dear peer group
Poetry Soup
7/30/2018 - Poetry form: Minute Poem - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Heavy Hearted Oct 2019
The artists impartiality
Of their craft's integrity
Is their profound gift
May it set us all free-
& Vanquish all anxiety.

When each page is blank, and book empty
Its full with potential's entierity.
Our real gift is sweet opportunity
To create and contrive

Its in our art we become who we wanted to be
With truthfull eyes we garentee
That you'll one day begin to see

The artist's impartiality.
Grace & Reem
F A Pacelli Sep 2019
everything you do 
(and don't do) 
will be interpreted 
by your peers 
for better or worse 
whether true or false
Boredom, as a form of torture is welcome

Brutalize us into eager lust for curiosity.

Emptiness saturates us without wonder. It's taboo to seek ideals outside of the curriculum.

However it's much more fulfilling.

The straight jacket we are in-prisoned in cripples exploration and reaching ideals that oppose your own.

Stay deaf to those that don't practice what they preach. Or those that sow hatred.

This Devine gift we are hardly deserving of must be appreciated. Gained during adolescence we neglect it.

Formal operational thought is an ability we are taught to be repulsed by. Ironic due to that ideology being repugnant and wasteful.

I've come to tears after realizing our ability to think abstractly is frowned upon by peers and society. Not only in interests of intellect.

If you speak of trying to understand real love. Especially around teen spirit. Your a "***". A "*****". A "freak". Of course these are untrue and you feel no propulsion to disprove them.


Because you're not insecure about your beliefs and feelings. You know your strong for that. You also feel confidence in your compulsion to coitus with whatever person you find attractive no matter their gender. As for being a freak, you know your peers haven't slowed down from partying and ******* long enough to ponder what an emotional drain their lewdness is. Besides their physical and mental exhaustion they complain about everyday. Their remedy is to repeat the cycle. Party, ****, die. High school is an **** for everyone who's "popular".

It is gross to see such a majority of the population waste their psychological ability no other species owns. But through reflection and learning you need to be tolerant. You see it's futile to tell others what to do or be condescending toward them. It would drain you and them due to the repulsive nature of those acts.

Offer help and love, empathy and understanding. And stay curious.






Stay­ curios and learn 5 more lessons on your path of personal growth.
apiwe Nov 2018
sizzling with excitement, unpredictability
Hits against their faces.
Breaking strong into a day of reckless liberty.
With blood running hot through their vessels
to their heads
to their eyes ever so warm with wonder - yet-
ever so chilled with nonchalance.
They don't care.
but I am in here.
No riffling pop song bass in my ears
only a sonata for flute, violin and harp
No intoxicating spirits for me
only the feel of a pen
and textbook cold and
hard against my skin - yet-
It is so warm in here...
I'm writing a Chemistry exam on Monday. My peers are making their own chemistry right now.

P. S I think I might have used the dash incorrectly. Excuse me, Grammar Nazis.

P. P. S The sonata is by Claude Debussy. Not sure of the Opus number
Rizna M Rameez Jul 2018
They smile because they made
Everyone laugh
But then they realize
Everyone was laughing
At them.
You'll most likely only understand this if you've been in this situation.
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