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nycteris Jan 2018
All of the words I have ever said
have been said before.
The life I have led
has been done before.

Such an average life
that doesn’t deserve notice.
A paper doll cut out with a knife
aiming for precision but left with
jagged edges.

What started out as a little thing
in the womb.
A life to be born with wings
torn to shreds when first sunlight
touches the skin.

Typically cradled by a loving mother
left to fall to the ground
without a bother.
Welts and a scarred heart
on the little baby.

Once a paper doll thought to be cut evenly and equally
like the other paper dolls of its kind.
Instead of scissors, a knife given to unworthy figures
created a paper doll.
Modelling it in their own image
destined to carry on its lineage.
Anna Zerkle Jan 2018
Oh how perfect he is. From his kind, chivalrous, Breath taking soul that is filled with laughter, joy, God, and mercy. To the sweet tender touch of his soft lips. Lips like cotton, so soft and pure that they’re only fit for a queen. Tasting sweet as honey, leaving a soft dew behind.

Oh and those eyes. Breathtaking as the highest mountain top view. Deep as the deepest sea. And blue as the bluest sky. Sparkling. Glistening in the light as if calling out for me to get lost once again. Eyes that pierce the soul, and it never escapes. See the depth, and welcome me. Yearning for me to be lost in them, showing the true soul of the owner.

His warm embrace. So gentle. Loving. Passionate. Sensual. Arms flowing over me as the sun rays on a warm summer day. His fingers licking over my skin like a flame. Soft. Gentle touch like silk, brushing my hair off my soft skin. Love and passion felt with every soft touch.

Beautiful pastel skin, glistening with a sweet aroma. Hitting my nose like the most expensive perfume. His essence taking over me like a sweet wine. Gripping my every cell, down to my very core. Carrying me away to a place I’ve never been before.

The face of a child, innocent and kind. Perfect in every way. From the top of each strand of hair, out to the ever loving and contagious aura that follows him.

He is perfect perfection. But he knows not. Perfect perfection, he believes not. He is the one and only. My soulmate. My life. My love. My perfect perfection.
winter child Jan 2018
those atoms;
they must be so proud of that one great decision they've made to crash & merge themselves in order to create something as perfect as you.
Luna Maria Dec 2017
Do you know that voice, always yelling at you? That voice from inside your head? The voice yells the worst insults.
Try to fight it, but you'll never win, because the voice knows all of your weaknesses. It's made by your worst enemy, you can never defeat.
Yourself.
Try to ignore, but the voice is sneaky, and will come at the most unexpected moments. It will break through the silence. To break you.
Try to escape, but the voice will always follow you, wherever you go. And it will never stop, until you break under the pressure.
Try to stay strong, but the voice keeps yelling until you start to believe.
The voice is done when all the lies become truths. Then the scariest part begins, when the voice stops yelling and starts whispering:

"You aren't good enough."

Do you hear that voice too?
Perfectionism can be very hard. Never underestimate.
And as the teacher said goodbye to her graduating class
filled with children she taught so much to,
she wondered where they would go,
and she wondered who they would be...

Would so-and-so make it through high school?
Would what's-her-name keep dancing?
Would that-one-boy ever stop talking and begin to listen to others?
Had she done enough to help them all?

It was no longer her responsibility;
she had set them free.

After a nostalgic sit, she walked home to a simple house,
in a simple town. Her husband waited
at the dinner table, silently admiring her curls,
as she sat down, ready to take in food and new information.

When she was at home, she was no longer the teacher,
but the student. Her children filled her soul
with things she never knew or imagined.
Her husband smiled and reminded her
that no one in this world is perfect,
but in his eyes, she was,
and that was all that need matter to her.
yellow-thoughts Dec 2017
they say i'm perfect
when i'm getting almost good grades
when i'm not speaking too much
or too little

they say i'm perfect
when i don't care what to wear
when i have messy hair
or messy handwriting

they say i'm perfect
when really i'm not..

they say i'm perfect
when it's perfect for them..
we humans are really messed up >.<
A painted face
Eyes shining brightly
Crisp white gloves
Hiding hands
Rose red lips
A perfect smile
Clothes all black
Brilliant contrast
Walking and dancing
Moving just right
Laughing and crying
Silent
And I can’t help but wonder
Who is the one behind the painted face
cassie marie Dec 2017
non, nous ne sommes pas parfaits
mais nous essayons
et la chose est du miel
nous continuons à chercher la définition de parfait

ce qui est parfait
Hi so I know this is in French but I really love the French language I think it is a beautiful language and ugh but heres the translation
"no, we are not perfect, but we try, and the thing is darling, we keep looking for the definition of perfect, what is perfect?"
Sam Kauffmann Dec 2017
Sometimes I feel like I’m on drugs
But these drugs are better than any
I hallucinate a life with you
I walk down the stairs past you but
Instead of an awkward smile
You pull me aside and kiss me
Gently but with true passion
You kiss me knowing
I would die for you
But our love would never die
These hallucinations are so perfect
Like one white cloud in the blue sky
I know they aren’t real
Life for me is nothing but storm clouds
Raining on every parade before it starts
Like an addict I need more
More and more and more
Of this perfect hallucination
Where I float across the ground
To you and you are there to greet me
You laugh because I am laughing
I am laughing because you make me happy
You make me happy because
Your existence is the drug
You existing means that there is light in the universe.
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