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Her Feb 2019
Its kind of odd.
Not to say,
we don't believe you.

I'm kind of odd.
Not to say,
I don't think thats *******.

Its kind of odd.
You don't know me,
yet you make that judgement.

I'm kind of odd.
That doesn't mean,
you can say that to my face.
PoetAnon May 2018
The worst part is
I loved you back
Adulterous affair,
Absolutely abominable!

Maybe you didn’t mean to love
Me, the girl inside
the young woman’s body,
you only thought you knew

Flirtatious banter
once hinted at thoughts

Intelligible abyss once linked
unsuspecting minds;
Understanding so
Deep, so

Praise me, praise me.

Be careful,
Time is taking over,
How could you, you fool
You can't beat the clock!
You're in love now.
Did you intend for this?

But was it Me you sought to love?
Or was it just my body?
The thrill of the ilicit,
The power
Over a child?

Origins unknown

Grown out of your control.
Say goodbye to reason
I’m your master now.

What’s happening to you?
You’re afraid and I, well
I am the child
who will destroy you

Words, your last weapon
Escalating, no wait, stop
You’re killing yourself.

It's too late
I tried to warn you
You failed me, embarrassed

I egged you on.

I loved you back.

I’m sorry.
Reflections on my confusion and guilt after I reported my university professor for sexually harassing me.
Aerinlia Dec 2017
I know you can't read this anymore
But I still want to tell this

There were times when I almost gave up
There were times when I had breakdowns
But I don't want to disappoint you

Thank you for all these years
Thank you for all your guidance
Thank you for supporting me all this time

I will officially graduate
One hundred days after your passing

I'm sorry I can't bring anything as gratitude
But up there, you are proud of me, right?
Please continue to guide me from now on.
chloe fleming Nov 2017
Please stop calling me nice.
I am not nice.
I will not be contained to a single word,
When my bones are built from metaphors
And my lips leak similes.
I am a fireball of emotion, splitting trees and men in two with my passion for my art.
I am a slurry of terror, creeping up on you at night that curls your toes right before you fall asleep.
I am not nice, I am anything but
I am alive with the summer heat that burns in my eyes and the sunlight that flows through my ribcage.
I am a warrior, a fighter, a solider in disguise.
I am the moon that hides it face in the day, only to showcase it's purity in the night.
I am the stiff wind that knocks the shallow air out of your lungs on a cold, January morning.
I am the tick, tick, tick of the buzzer right before its majestic song.
I am the obscene, the extraordinary, the menacing things in life.
I am not confined by a single word.
Xallan Oct 2017
Doctor of a dozen missing henchmen
Cause he got a bone he'll pick with life,
He'll say, Come carry me,
Come drag my body home
Flay him like a tuna can't
He's smarter than any fool in the room
Jackhammer to the weekend,
Maybe he has a bottle
Maybe, because he didn't have a plan
It's an itch always after him
When the ***** won't leave him alone,
He'll say, Fall to the floor,
Pull me through the door
On the edge of his bed he got nothing for two
While bells go off in his head
They never end
They break up every single day, professor
Maybe alcohol will burn it away, professor
At least while the days shrivel up
He'll walk his own way
Breaking eggs on the drive and his head
He's not insane when he has the paper
Or a gavel made of stone,
He'll say, Listen here to me,
Listen to my words
He walked into a supermarket
His eyes were wild
Arms spread, he smiled,
He's so proud to speak, professor
He'll say, Come look at me,
Come watch me educate
He's created a new system of idolatry
Where all his students fail
Big red zero
He succeeded when he napped alone
There's some faith in him yet,
He's so proud to speak, professor
He'll say, I know it all,
I'm an absolute genius
He's made a new function of aberrancy
Where all his students pass
Big red hundred
His mind is fried and he's gone mad
He's lost so much weight
There's no hope in his ambitions
He has it all right here
He'll say, Break it off,
Now snap some of my heart
The everlasting ringing punctuating life
A movement every hour,
Where his water goes never to his head
Find a new liver with a brand new year
Pension and mortgage promises,
He's buzzed from dawn
He's lost in mindless daydreams
Traffic stops for only him and his debt
Maybe he has a bottle
Maybe, because he doesn't have a plan
Shining eyes with hardened evidence
Of crying ethynol
He'll say, Bring me home,
Bring me a fresh tomorrow
He's a paradox of knowledge
He's a  dreary drone to the bells
He's a professor if he knows how to teach
Not a social commentary
the professor of unmasking will be
conducting the lecture to-day
and it's recommended that students
tune into the things he'll say

we'll take a little peek
at the layers he'll reveal
the exercise being similar
to removing an onion's peel

you'll not forget
the knowledge he'll impart
it'll stay in your brain's
recollection cart

so let's commence the lesson
enough with the intro's waffling on

it has an outer skin
there's the inner rows
a center core

as this composite
The Dybbuk Sep 2017
Sitting at a desk,
pretending to pay attention to the professors monotone.
He wasn't always so dead.
He used to love baseball.
He would crack a wooden stick into the ball and watch it fly.
He would revel in the roar of the crowd.
Like it was all just a beautiful dream.
Now he teaches English.
His joy has been swallowed like tobacco between his now rotting teeth.
His life is a series of graded essays and Shakespearean words he barely understands.
It is as if his only joy is the memories.
Class will stop for 10, 15 minutes at a moments notice because suddenly he is lost in the memories and he can remember when life was good.
That is what life can never take from him.
At least for now.
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