I tried to be a mainstream normie a long time ago
But found that there were too many background checks
So I contemplated becoming an inbetweener
And found that I'd never get that sweet middle ground
Being the strange creature I was
With all my intricate love for Australian pop bands
And deep interest in aged cultures
My art teacher identified me to be a hipster in senior year
And I blatantly refused, contradicting my intentions
Now, as a dubbed hipster, I pretend to fit in the grooves society has for such a category of people
Better not overstep my limits, I thought
When I strived so hard to find a group
To belong with to begin with
My efforts to assimilate to this hipster culture
Has got me pretending to be a role
that I  thought I wasn't cut out for, but I'm finding
That I'm actually quite skilled in this act
Like an actor that's found truth in the lines
Of a play that sounds more realistic
Than the unscripted scenes of real life

Sanny 7d

I was forgetting you.

But no, you wouldn't let me do that this time either.

Who would you be if I forgot about your existence?

No one. You're turning desperate.

Showing up to see if you can still play me.

The answer is No.

Parasites are meant to go extinct.

Mark Wanless Nov 28

Children laugh in their innocent play
A young man loves his wife today
A twice worn dress is thrown away
        And the world is human.

An unknowing child is lost then found
A bleeding man attracts a crowd
The carousing deaf like their music loud
        And the world is human.

A vulgar man has a love for life
A pious man berates his wife
A robust man knows pain and strife
        And the world is human.

In all the lands there's old and new
And time flows on for me and you
There are many wonders left it's true
        And the world is human.

Esperando señales
me ahogue con humo
y rompiendo promesas
me dejaste sin fuerzas.

Mi guitarra llora
y se quiebra en soledad,
mi corazón se esconde
tras las cortinas asesinas.
Tu voz se vuelve lejana
y yo me pierdo en el olvido.

Guitarra canta conmigo
guitarra llora en re sostenido
guitarra llena mi pecho de tinta
y escribe más versos guitarra.

Tia Nov 14

I have too many words to say
And I just want us to be friends and play
I'll share with you my lots of chocolates
From my mom out of the country working so late

I want her here to take care of me
But instead she's out there taking care of another baby
She can't play with me I feel so lonely
And I wanna ask if you could maybe a bit make me happy

I'm sorry I can't say these to you
I wanted to, I really really do
I want you to hear me I even want to hear my own voice
I want to say we can share my things, play my toys

Maybe next time you'll accept my offer
Maybe you'll like to have a piece of my burger
Maybe we'll do those bestfriends twinning
Maybe we can be out playing and running

This is for that kid who cannot talk and wanted to play with the little girl. But the girl declined her offer because she can't talk. I just tried to put myself in her situation. This is basically Her Story.
Chris Neilson Nov 12

This poetry lark has a lot to answer for
when you just can't find the right metaphor

If she did sell sea shells on a sea shore
it alliteratively never sold her any more

An onomatopoeia can make work chime
or smash, crash and rasp into rhyme

Simile users are as cunning as a fox
I leave assonance in its toolbox

Literature isn't literally mind bending
but to this I can't find the right ending

Just a bit of Sunday word play
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