it's that simple.

Really, curiously, and honestly.  

You think that you want to do so.

Boy oh boy!
Girl oh girl!

You both assumed with
only a smile that they longed for more.

Their genuine smile
and hearty laugh
was more than a stranger would
ever offer to a nobody.

But to me
everyone is a somebody
cheesy as cheese fries
without the fries.

That's what make my day
meeting and greeting--
sadly I've assumed a false identity,
if only they would let it go.

And take the chance
to make an honest friend.

People assume too much.

Do not call me pretty,
for I am more than it looks

I would rather be ugly ,
with the beauty inside

I don't want to be those girls
in magazines and books.

Don't just use me for my body,
without a confide.

Don't call me pretty,
look inside.

Not all thoughts are articulated
by endless deception.
But, through these ideations
of sincerity, comes a depression.
A wizened mind gives way to
a lack of rapport with the one who hears,
the listener.
A perfect mirror, the speaker is always near,

“What side are you on?
What side are you on?”

Vexed by confusion,
the poor culprit of deception
is nothing but a bellicose invention.
What can it do but release dreary,
thoughts and ideas? The fear of seeing clearly.
The one who listens, must witness obsession
if they want to conquer their impaired
personality that lacks confession,
as it tries to ask,

“Whose side are you on?
Whose side are you on?”

saying "it" in the third to last line was intentional lmfao
Evan 5d

People say I'm devoid of personality
But in actuality, I'm just hiding from reality
My mentality, I shut down everything around me

They say look down and
stick to your morality
But reality is a fallacy
And I'm stuck in a society
that practices hypocrisy

This is an emergency,
I've let out my insecurities
Dead, or just dead to myself
Urgently waiting on the autopsy
To bring me back to health
Or to figure out why
I never asked for help

Ari 7d

I’m stuck inside somebody else’s head
I don’t know who she’s supposed to be.
It’s like we’re one single body
With two different personalities
I swear sometimes neither one can breathe.

Her face is smiling but I feel her soul dying
She’s begging me to finally set her free.
But she’s the face meant for society
The one everybody loves to meet.
The one I really want to be.

I’m the one always hiding
Behind hallow eyes always lying

Saying “I’m ok”


austin Jan 11

next time, back up instead of shove
you never know how close someone might be
to the edge of their personal cliffs

Jikai Zheng Jan 9

You want me to be happy
For me to smile genuinely
And laugh whole-heartedly
But my face freezes
Each time I see myself
In the reflection
Of the night-cast window
And I think to myself

You want me to be happy
I know, I want it too
But I can’t fit back into
That personality
That’s shrunk in the wash
I can’t figure out if I lost you
Or I’m losing you
Or if I’m losing myself

Katie Read Jan 7

I think I might be 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?
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,
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.
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.

Short circuited
Once bursted
Twice more
One wasn't enough for sure
Short circuited
Hunger lurking in
Greed needs to be fed
Sweet surplus lies brewed when in bed
Back turned
Masks unveiled
Things to learn
In the night, things churn

Michael Ryan Dec 2017

Even my poems
do not speak eloquence
or a personal soliloquy--
my words lack the lush
and brazen must
that all else seem to speak.

To hold a pearl
is something to behold
a precious mistake
bore into beauty.

I speak muzzled
ideas that are simply
monologues; meant
to only hinge
ideas together.

They do not
let you understand me,
but give a soft or bleak
ensemble of demenor
of someone I've been trying to find.

Do you know who you are? Or even, who am I.
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