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"I can't read you my poetry,"
I say completely astonished:
"That's what confident people do,"
I hear myself say to an empty room.

("Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, the second one is looking for it")

Should I start to feel ashamed?
Because when people tell me I'm not confident now,
I want to scream that they're to blame,
And not for my so called "lack of self-confidence", only for their lies:
Because, I can be very confident sometimes,
I just probably won't tell you about it,
I don't want you to know,
If you thought I was so sure of myself, then that would make me low.

(I'm not speaking to myself though,
I'm simply conversing with people that you don't know are there,
And that's okay because,
I only do it noticeably when I'm alone.
They may not be real, but they exist to me,
Even more so than you and I.)

And yes, I know, that I have my moments;
I know what that feels like;
To question yourself and be convinced that
You're doing everything wrong,
I've had way too many times to recount to you,
But I also know, many occasions where I've secretly taken control back,
Where deep down, I know that I am kind of okay,
And I don't appreciate you questioning that,
Unless that's what I'm purposely trying to make you do.
-And maybe I'm slowly starting to ascertain, or wonder
That it's actually a bit manipulative,
And the fact I do it to make myself feel better
Is kind of messed up,
But honestly? It didn't seem like that when I did it,
I thought it was natural to be self-protective.
Danielle Apr 2018
Free licks, the sign read.
Of ice cream? My mind questioned.
Summer was not here.  

The sign read free licks of ice cream,
Summer was not here?
My mind questioned.
Forgot what the structure of the poem was suppose to be but the idea was to use the same phrases but rearrange them in a way that still made sense, without changing them too much.
past this joust
place me with
your sheep
with no

trade my fur
for thier wool
learn me past waves

take my mother from my mouth
I want more

let me see
past this

who marks
NeroameeAlucard Jan 2016
Why is it that reheated fries are so disappointing
Why is it that everybody I like lives so far from my home, *****?

Why do the good die young, why are the evil immortalized
Why does the sun go down, because I can't sleep at night

Why is it that if a bunch of people like something, it's automatically overrated
Why is it that common sense is so rare, but stupidity is hotly debated
Are you happy?
When I'm on his lips....

Do you love him?
More, with every kiss.....

Has he hurt you?
When he's away....

Would you leave him?
I'd beg to stay.....

Do you miss him?
Every day....

He sounds perfect!?
Far from, I'd say....

Does he love you?
Don't really "*******" know....

Are you his?
Whenever he says so.....

Is he yours?
Every time....

His best feature?
His dragon, upper spine....

How does he ******?
Lipstains and blood...

How shall you survive him?
I won't, starfucked love.....

The Truth May 2015
So many times I thought I answered
But only to see the stakes have changed
Every time I look up at him
He shoots me down to the abyss below
Where I have to crawl just to reach my goal
To find out how I can be whole
Dark and damp its cold inside
The monster that decides to hide
I fight to find, inside who I am
A Sheppard looking for his lost lambs
As if the tattoo jumped of my skin
Searching for my long lost twin
The image of me has faded away
Darkness unable to be kept at bay
Surging through me like a beam of black
My life hung up upon the plaque
The tears want to drop, I just want to cry
Why can't I find myself, WHO am I?
Kelly Rose May 2015
She will prevail

It can hurt
To have one's integrity or honor

She lives life
By her own rules
As the roads of life's journey
Are often like a maze
Filled with twists and turns
Leaving one confused and dazed

As one navigates their way
Through the labyrinth of life
Hard lessons are learned
One must live by
Their own rules
As they wade through
The deceptions and lies
Thrown their way by life

She rises above the petite hurts
And false accusations

Knowing the truth
Whether it is known to all
Or buried deeply inside
That she will prevail

— The End —