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Jeremy Betts Aug 2023
(First draft)

An authentic smile defeated then deleted long ago, zero chance of winnin' stretchin' all the way back to my beginnin'
It was a genuine expression that slowly melted to an unrecognizable reflection
All pigmentation givin' way revealin' a secondary, ghostly stand in
Granted, it happened in my formative years before I was abandoned due to the mutation
But the impact has been felt through forty somethin' calendars and countin'
A true representation of life's failed mission, I'm guessin'
Not necessarily my opinion but one every other person is holdin', no question
Still wouldn't say it's been a waste but the needles strongly leanin' towards no reason for existin'
An overall lack of position, doesn't seem like I was designed to fit in, that is if my life has been any indication
I manage to make it to and through the proverbial one more day but where's the lesson?
This just feels like non-monetary extortion of a life-sized portion
Take far more than what's given, with or without permission
I'm still in competition with myself, the prize, livin'
The compromise, loosin' myself in a broken system or durin' the transition
The eradication of an inner companion, replacin' compassion with aggression, smooth sailin' with frustration, no direction, no validation
The transition to curmudgeon happened earlier than expected, drawin' parallels from the curious case of Benjamin Button
Not for nothin', the infestation of negative thoughts caused a mutation inside and out, completely loosin' what it means to be human
It's not a lose lose situation, and it sure ain't win win, and any other option, I'm guessin', got lost in translation
But I'm pretty sure somethin's gotta end in order for another somethin' to begin, at least that's what I'm hearin'
Still can't find a reason that justifies the conviction, is what I'm feelin' damnation? Is what I'm seein' my own creation?
It could just be that no matter what I'm not goin' to enjoy the conclusion, not allowed to settle on your preferred endin'
No fat lady singin', just a band playin' as I feel myself sinkin' into oblivion so pardon me for givin' up on salvation
It should go without sayin' but you're waistin' away waitin' for divine intervention, be careful what you use for inspiration
It may not be your intention, but there's no hate like the love of a christian, I'm just sayin'
Pay attention, who you're praying to every day may not be the one listenin'

©2023
Jeremy Betts Aug 2023
(Extended)

An authentic smile defeated then deleted long ago, zero chance of winnin' stretchin' all the way back to my beginnin'
It was a genuine expression that slowly melted to an unrecognizable reflection
All pigmentation givin' way revealin' a secondary, ghostly stand in walkin' in my skin and it's handed some demands in
Granted, it happened in my formative years, a couple of years before the realization hit, I was an abandoned abomination
But the impact has been felt through forty somethin' calendars and countin', often wonderin' just how many more of 'em I'll actually be needin'
A true representation of life's failed evolution, my opinion, it would've helped to have known the mission
At the very least I coulda been shown at least one possible destination
Instead of being teased with this mystical American dream while always wakin' up in a nightmareish situation
Or hell, just vaguely point me in the general direction I should be travelin' in
Oh and where I should begin because I'm sure I'll be back here again, spending a majority of me time going back to the beginnin'
Then, after that you can get back to not givin' a **** about your creation, can't be bothered to even check in too see how we're all doin'
Refusin' to even call it in with a simple "how's it goin'?" Completely stopped showin' up for some reason
What happened to all the love and forgiveness you're supposed to be dishin' out according to your words, king James edition
Bigfoot and god, both bein' heaven and earths undisputed hide and seek champion
Ignorin' all the cries for help you've been hearin' while dodgin' every little question
Eliminate guessin', can't find the answer if you can't formulate the question
Still wouldn't say it's been a waste but the needles strongly leanin' towards an awfully vague reason for existin'
An overall lack of an adequate position, doesn't really seem like I was even designed to fit in
That is if my life has been any indication
I manage to make it to, AND THROUGH, the proverbial one more day but where's the lesson?
Was it in the bull shiit I kept slippin' in before crossin' off and finishin' anythin' deemed worthy of doin'?
This just feels like non-monetary extortion, a life-sized portion, takin' far more than what's ever been given
How do you think that's gonna end? This is not a rhetorical question, I'm looking for answers and forever waitin'
I'm still in competition with myself, the prize, livin', the compromise, loosin' myself in a portrait I've broken
Or durin' the transition, stumblin' across the realization that everyone's been right, I am the problem, that's no longer opinion
Find it in the nonfiction section
The eradication of an inner companion, replacin' compassion with aggression, smooth sailin' with frustration, no direction, no validation
The transition to curmudgeon happened earlier than expected, drawin' parallels from the curious case of Benjamin Button
Not for nothin', the infestation of negative thoughts caused a mutation inside and out, completely loosin' what it means to be a person, never was a good one
Probably no longer a shoe in for team human, my demon is all high on my supply with a gargantuan appetite for fear and hate eggin' it on
It's not a lose lose situation, and it sure ain't win win, and any other option, I'm guessin', got lost in translation
But I'm pretty sure somethin's gotta end in order for another somethin' to begin, at least that's what I'm hearin'
Still can't find a reason that justifies the conviction
Is what I'm feelin' damnation?
Is what I'm seein' my own creation?
It could just be that no matter what I'm not goin' to be happy with the conclusion
Only recently discoverin' life is not a choose your own adventure, you're not allowed to be pickin' your preferred endin'
A mustard seed of faith in myself ain't doin' nothin' but turnin' a mole hill into a mountain
No fat lady singin', just a whole lotta screamin', just a band playin' as I feel myself sinkin' into oblivion
Who the hells idea was it to make me captain? Given the keys to the ship but zero trainin'
Pardon me for givin' up on salvation but if you've been payin' even a little bit of attention
It should go without sayin' but you're waistin' away waitin' for divine intervention
Be careful what you look to for inspiration, maybe get a second opinion before goin' full send, divin' head in without practicin' the landin'
A recipe for disaster cookbook in the kitchen, irony gone missin', passin' overhead, no one's even lookin'
It may not be your intention, but there's no hate like the love of a christian
I'm just sayin', that's a world I lived in, I wish this was a work of fiction, then I could benefit from all this wishin'
Even presentin' it as an exaggeration would be lyin', if I'm lyin' I'm dyin', we're all dyin', they're all lyin'
A livin' contradiction by their own admission, rid them of bullshiit with a little sanitation
Keep an eye on the who you're prayin' to every day, it may not be the one, or at least the only one, listenin'
And there's no mulligan, no snooze button, no rewind function, no wake me up when it's over discussion
A conversation on morals is just opinion, life's not a given, it can be taken but if you can't take it, please, don't give in
With a questionable foundation any moment construction can slip, unnoticed, into destruction
Countless lessons on dysfunction, an influx of confusion, temperaments risin', no inner peace on the horizon
Please have your opposition choosen before the match is striken allowin' the dumpster fire lifestyle to begin
Fuelin' suspicion, a growin' unease between both neighbor and friend, the end will come as no surprise then

Just pay attention

©2023
Arlen Feb 2022
Will I always be the sidenote
In someone else's story
The enby kid pushed to the edges
Away from the glory

Will I always be a supporting role
In every tale that's told
Or will I ever get to be the one
With greater representation shown
Dante Rocío Aug 2020
It is fascinatingly probable
God balanced, protected, recompensed
how I feel misplaced in the confinements
to the vessel, in a biological
femininity even more being said,
by shaping that body as a speech
in my structure and palette embedded
of nature’s casts, messages‘
endearing faced:

I am put in a sunflower’s shift
when bearing a heat with caramel toning,
in the skin,
swift golden towel ‘round the
form naked,
shoulders
and all other petite
through that standing strong
like a sword’s leather hilt,
and eyes with hair of tenderly
made browns with lights and darks,
as freckles shining scattered,
with their origin from Gold arriving,
or at last the very nutrient
dark centre by seeds posed.

When sodden, it is a mangrove then,
the caramel whole now slick
yet strongly dense as its roots,
like when I get myself firmly stuck
on feet like double arrow
spread limbs
and like mahogany shade
stand reading images.

Or there’s at last and at wind
the cherry blossom:
my thoughts and sensing presence
are so beloving that they
emanate pink in passing,
just as it’s flowers with no fruit,
my top, a crown,
swaying branches,
irregular protruding.
I bloom so dearly with my shading,
I could almost kiss like leaves,
like they do with me.

Wish you could see me, this,
such loving dear sight to be.
Like slick, promising, calm own river.
Alas, an eerie beige coat that flutters
with child dreams
I realised the cherry blossom in valleys of wind, the sunflower in murderous morning scorchings,
and all in all that the body Allah put me in mostly and in the colours,
Is only a further proof of my appurtenance and greater link to the Nature and my Home.
Riley OHalloran Aug 2020
i want to be good enough
that other parents are impressed,
and i want to bring honor to you:
i want others to think highly of you.
i’m addicted to the feeling i get
when you say, “they were impressed by you.”
i want to be good enough
for you.
i know they use my faults to criticize you, so it is imperative that i have enough qualities to make this difficult.
Quill Apr 2020
Heres to the lovers
Heres to the ones who have never felt the same love mirrored back
Heres to the ones who love one another
Heres to the ones who have never seen themselves depicted in media
Heres to the ones who have seen themselves depicted in media, only to be killed off when the directors think that your story is over
Heres to the ones who love like no other
To the ones who love books on a rainy day, who love sipping coffee looking out a store window, who love staring up into the vast blue of an afternoon sky
Heres to the ones who love
Heres to the ones who try to love themselves
To the ones who try to love themselves because nobody will do it for them
To the ones who cradle their own face
To the ones who rub their thumb over their own cheek
Who toy with their own hair
Who hug themselves tight
Who hug pillows and blankets and walls
Who hug friends, family
Who will hug strangers
Heres to the lovers who will put the ******* spider back outside
Heres to the lovers
Shadow Dragon Jun 2018
You have the smell of feeling something,
but the touch of regret.

Warm hands,
but a cold heart

You're like yellow,
a representation of happiness and sickness.
Nilia Loh Mar 2018
Not everyone likes me and accepts me for the colour I am.
I may not be the colour you love, not the colour you need.
Sometimes I'm the forgotten colour, and that's alright.
Sometimes noticed by painters, but not wanted by them.
I may not be beautiful in your eyes, but I have a purpose for being a certain colour I am.
Is alright if some ended up changing their minds of having me in their pictures.
Is alright if I'm not liked or appreciated anymore.
Is alright if I'm forgotten and left aside.  
Cause someday, I know, I'm a colour needed to complete their pictures.
A colour loved, wanted and appreciated.
Kaith Karishma Dec 2017
I am a girl,
A top model girl.
The kind you should see in movies,
the kind that coax your smile with their hearts.
Strong hips guide my strut, swaying
[there is power here] into drifting eyes.
Large feet stamp my impression in the ground,
saying [I am here. Look at me.]
My hands were not built for the piano;
rather I was formed to hold the sun in my palms.
A nose too shapely to be a Greek statue stands proud,
a lodestone that breathes in [you are your own].
Eyes carved but not taught to sit still
turn me from a pretty picture to an adventure.
The hair on my body doesn’t grow over my scars
but they form their own art of doggedness.
And when I smile my knife of a smile
that can break or make with a single glance,
my skin shines bright in the sun
that I’ve caught in my grasp, and I am
so beautiful, I am everything I ever wanted to be:
my own hero, something every top model girl,
every girl in the world, should be.
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