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Isla Jul 2019
broken souls slump against battered brick walls
the avenue drowning in cheap perfume
drawing in the tired
slick pavement melts the neon lights, bathing the cold street in red reflections

she puffs on a cigarette
smoke clearing her head as it fills her lungs
her lips taste are made of whiskey and a million well kept secrets
her smile never reveals too much
but she has learned not to be afraid
she has learned to keep her head up
she sighs and straightens her back
it’s showtime
Mary Frances Jul 2019
Your radiance blinded my eyes
yet they didn't hurt.
Your words pierced my heart
yet I did not bleed.
Your fire set my soul ablaze
but I wasn't burned.
Your chains held me to the ground
but they made me soar higher.
This is the kind of love you give:
complex yet affable,
resilient yet comforting,
agonizing yet appealing.
Ritz Writes Jun 2019
I chose to FORGIVE and FORGET
so that I could MOVE ON and EVOLVE.
I chose to FORGIVE not because I was told to do so;
It was my sole purpose to overcome the NIGHTMARE from the past.
When the weight of the world was pulling me down
I found my way to fight back and wear my CROWN.

I chose the road that was filled with THORNS
Wear my scars with pride, not to make a face and frown.
To begin again from a state of TABULA RASA,
Unfiltered mind
Welcome the newborn.
"For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning." ~ T.S. Eliot
Andrew Jun 2019
I have pine
growing inside of me.
Strong and thick and
but not unbendable–
and able to be shaped.

There have been fires
inside of me as well—
burning away the old
beliefs and scars,
and shaping me once again
into something new.

From the tiniest of sprouts—
from sapling, to mighty
young fir, and old wise
redwood; I will grow
peace and endurance
and strength and hope.

- A. I. Myles     26 May, 2019
Everyone grows and changes from day to day. Thanks for reading my poem!
Tony Tweedy Apr 2019
Are the bandages put away?
The stitches removed?
Has the scar healed over?
Has your mind reconnected?
Does your heart beat with regular thump?
Have tear ducts stopped erratic behavior?
Then you are ready to fall in love again... good luck.
We just can't help ourselves....
Mystic Ink Plus Mar 2019
Every morning
We woke up

And believe on dreams
And everyday magic
And find a reason
And being aware
Adopt the art
Of inhale, exhale
Mastering a balance
And it makes sense
Genre: Experimental
Theme: And this is life
Desire Mar 2019
I keep my mouth shut and my mind wide awake.
I keep my feelings bottled up and my heart in a cage.
You think you really know me; you only know what I display.
You don't even know the half of me, but I'll keep it that way...
& no, I'm not a fake. Im faithfully tryna make it.
But life's spinning so much, there are times I wanna break it...
Im pushing through it all though, cause one day Ima make it.
But not all of you were there for me, so don't try to partake in it...
Only a few will...
I am tired of being scared to walk home in the dark-
to step outside once the sun has faded and yellow lights are barely bright enough to
light the way.
I am tired of being scared that every time I look
down or away
it will be the last time.
That every rustle in the bushes is a predator stalking their prey-
that every set of footsteps behind me is bigger sounding,
louder with every intake of breath,
and it will be the last thing I hear.
I am tired of having to carry myself with less dignity than I have,
of being stared at with less respect than I deserve,
because a man has decided that
because I have
wide hips
it is my duty to be objectified and sexualized
like I am less than
I am tired of holding my breath until I am behind my locked door,
of being afraid to take the bus when there is only one other human on it besides the bus driver and
he stares at me
the whole time, gets off at the same stop I do, tries to
walk into my building behind me,
until I tell him
with steel in my voice and iron in my spine,
"you need to leave. I haven't seen you before".
And when he looks startled,
like a deer caught in my headlights,
I get angry
because he was expecting a
scared little girl
but instead he got a
strong, resilient woman.
Because I am nothing if not
When you're a size
and the other girls laugh at you
when they think you
see them,
when they whisper about you in the bathroom when they don't know you're there-
when you're a little girl, all of
and crying because you'll never be a
size 4
and those other girls,
the ones you played with on the playground not a year before
have turned against you,
because you hit puberty before any of them and you have
body parts
that they don't-
you have to learn to build yourself a backbone.
To build yourself a
spine of iron
a mouth of steel.
When the entire world has bet
against you
and the house has the game rigged,
you must stand for yourself because no one else will.
You must walk in the night
you must keep your chin held high
and your mouth set with
You were not built like other girls.
You were never
Because you were forced to forge your own path to succeed.
You do not have the luxury of being built
to fit the mold.
When they made you into what you are,
when they shaped your confidence with their
sharper than scalpels and hurting
just as much,
they tried to
But you-me-
we are not easily broken.
Because we have a
mouth made of steel
and a backbone made of iron
and though their words still sting,
their words still hurt,
you have built yourself an armor
to defend.
It is coated in wax so their words slide right off,
it is made of titanium so their weapons will never hit their marks.
Even still,
my heart races when I walk alone at night,
my mind whirls and my world tilts when I see
a man
walking towards me in the dark.
It does not matter, in this moment, that I was
through trial by fire,
It does not matter that I
against all odds.
That fear sits like a stone in my stomach,
weighing me down and freezing my muscles.
It does not stop when he walks by and nothing happens.
It is the fear that keeps me rooted to the spot.
I should not be
by this irrational fear.
This fear, with such a wicked face-
not born by experience,
but born by
and the fact that I am a
Why is it that we are trained to
throw stones
against each other?
Why is it that even as
we feel a primal desire to shove one another down
and hold each other by the throat,
as if we are
feral wolves
poised to attack?
We are the only thing standing between the world we live in now,
It is only if we stop stabbing each other in the
that anything will happen.
It is only when we truly
in each other that the world will
in us too.
And maybe, if we do that?
Our little girls will not feel
my fear
when they walk alone in the dark.
Maybe our little girls will never be
when a man walks past them on a dimly lit sidewalk.
Maybe our little girls will not need to build such extreme
armors to keep the
Maybe our little girls
will have a chance that they do not need to
to be given.
I wrote this in response to the fear I feel whenever I walk outside and the ****-shaming I was partial to simply because I am a woman.
Allesha Eman Jan 2019
Somewhere along a shallow coastline, stood my sandy feet listening to wind chimes

I’d stare the ruthless wind right in the face
As it takes the shape of water and drifts away

Over the distance of a sea of blue, waves would howl at the moon for you

The sun still sets with a thousand colours, an artists sky made of wonders

The rain still falls with the beat of a drum, and every drop is my heart calling for one

The grasses sway with the dancing wind, to music written on the cracks of your skin

Summer comes wandering in, in the shape of a nomad searching for bliss

I watch the changes of your time, singing songs and embracing the climb
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