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Pauline Morris Jan 2016
Now you see me, now you don't
I want to run, but maybe I wont
Frozen in time, still always moving
Memories flawed, futures always proving
Agony unwavering, is always changing
Happiness unreachable, yet so nearing
Things unwanted, forever need
Wounds have healed, scars still bleed
Always right, standing in the wrong
Feelings left to die, forever live on
Seth Milliman Jan 2016
Things return to the same,
Always as before.
Roads winding,
Insides grinding.
Putting too much touch,
In hopes galore.
I thought I saw signs,
But again I ignore.
That things will always be this way,
Always as before.
My-broken-heart Jan 2016
I am the same
The same as any other sixteen year old girl,
Subject to questioning glances and stereotypes,
Being controlled by expectations and society,
Taking and shaping my life, as if I were a mere puppet in the hands of a master
My actions are no longer my own; I conform to the status quo.

~ a poem : part 2
This is an 8 part poem, with a new part added each day. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated!
Sofia Kioroglou Jan 2016
What a weighty name
I must live up to!
A martyr and a saint
a widow and a mother
back in Roman Times
just as dystopian as our era
when Faith, Hope and Love
are tortured and burned over an iron grating,
then thrown into a red-hot oven,
finally into a cauldron with boiling tar
before bending their necks beneath the sword.
A grievous torture indeed to watch
the suffering of your daughters.
How could anyone
so little and small
like me be worthy of that martyr’s crown?
The poem is published at https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2016/01/26/sophia-the-martyr-poem-by-sofia-kioroglou-same-name-poetry-and-prose-series/
Joyce Jan 2016
Same blood.
Same mother.
They don't
know me.
I don't
know them.
So far away
and miles
apart.
We live our
separate lives.
I will carry
them always
in my heart.
Àŧùl Jan 2016
What's called "Good Morning" in English,
"Guten Morgen" in German,
And "Bon Matin" in French,
Is called "सुप्रभात" in Hindi and pronounced as "Suprabhaat!"

I had been studying all night,
And probably now I'll sleep.
My HP Poem #966
©Atul Kaushal
It's the eve before Christmas, the best eve of the year.
But I can't help but cry, and shed a tear.
Why you might ask, would I be crying on Christmas?
Probably because everything is so different.
I don't feel excitement, or happiness in the least.
It seems like any other day, but with a holiday feast.
I wish I could go back to when I was seven,
Where Christmas was basically one day of heaven.
But those days are gone, as well as the rest of them,
and now I am laying like baby Jesus in Bethlehem,
wishing that I could be happy again,
hoping that someday I will feel the same.
CE Dec 2015
IT MAKES ME UNEASY TO REALISE I AM JUST LIKE YOU
AND THE WAY I CAN'T SEPERATE YOUR FACE FROM MY OWN MAKES ME AFRAID THAT ONE DAY
I'LL TURN ON THE NEWS AND SEE MYSELF IN THE PLACE OF YOU
AND I'LL SEE MY FACE CAPTIONED WITH THE SAME WORDS

"KILLER ON THE LOOSE"
Moon tears Dec 2015
Even if he was the one who hurt me
I feel save in his arms
You can hit me, and i will still love you
Kyra Nov 2015
i thought putting aside my feelings will make things easier
i thought wrong
as i got to know you better
it was harder for me to stay away from you.

but i don't think you feel the same.
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