I grow this garden
With tender care
Hydrangea, Water Lily, Rose
All fail to meet your presence
For the queen dances in
An oasis of beauty
The humming of an angels choir
Spun around the buds
Sought the smell of petrichor.

Aster, Azalea, Angraecum
Entwining vines of amative domain
Secreting morning dew
Reflecting the suns shine
Imitating the beauty of the moon
Presenting an Orange Blossom
May eternity rest in the entwined vines.
Lydia 6d
I took off all my clothes
looked straight at the mirror and repeated
İ love myself
I love myself
I love myself
as if I truly believed it
like a stranger in my skin I imagined what other people see
the words blended together and melted like butter
my mind tricked itself into thinking I had never looked at my reflection and thought it was gross
I made myself lie
and then I put on my clothes
brushed my hair
and turned off the light
Lydia 7d
what makes us so different is the way that we think
how everything we take in, we view as we are
not how "they" might be
seeing into someone's perspective is as impossible
as counting the stars
and just like those billions of tiny, twinkling lights
we all burn out at some point
when no one is paying attention
Genesee Jul 23
I remember when you whispered your wishes to me in the night time
And you let me in
telling me your vulnerabilities one by one  
almost as if you were wanting to be intimate with me but at the time we were too jaded to care
all I could think was maybe in this moment
we’ll be vulnerable and it won’t sting
Months later I was mistaken as the distance between us grew more and more
you were suddenly a stranger to me
It felt weird almost as if I had to act like at one point we weren’t echoing the promises of forever that rolled off our tongues
Dog Years Jul 16
Heaven is not for me
This world is all I wish to see
Golden streets and crystal oceans
Are not my cup of tea
To be quite honest
A cup of tea is my cup of tea
And though I'll do whatever God asks of me
I just pray that when I die he lets me be
To live forever is way too much
A lifetime here is good enough
I'm only six and twenty
And this world still has plenty
Of wonders for me to see
Heaven is not for me
Not everything needs significance
Or meaning.
Time and time again I
Hear that every poem has a purpose but what
If the purpose is to be purposeless or to just exist.
Not everything needs to be significant
Got it?

Meaning is no more than
A word and
Time will
Tell that
Everyone is searching for that word
Running in circles to find a value that others assign.
So tell me what the meaning of this is. Tell me like you always do.
You are wrong
This is wrong
I am wrong
Repetition nails in a point without a hammer.
I repeat in hopes it will stick in your head.
Deep down I know it will never stick
even if I say the same thing one thousand times
It won't.
It won't.
Anya Jul 3
I think it’s silly
And maybe I’m cynical
To wonder
Because to me
Life isn’t a gift
Life isn’t a right
Life isn’t a chance
given to us
The universe was just so
For it to happen
And it did
Weather we are lucky
Or not
One can decide for themselves
But as for me
I don’t want to think of those useless things
It did happen
So I’ll make of it what I will
Do what I want
Short term
Long term
Whatever the case
Not for others
Not for some possible entity living above
But just
The French word for Depressed.
“Kirsten’s Depressed”

I got left wondering a few days ago “What’s the point of life without a little depression?”

And today I realized I can turn that question around.
“What’s the point of life when there’s nothing but depression?”

The room goes silent.
And so does my depression.

                              With love,
Maria Etre Jun 26
(No one ever started a novel with a point, here's mine)
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