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Eleanor Rigby Feb 2016
You don't want my pain
You have enough...

How morbid must you be, he says.


-- Eleanor
Mikkel Mathiesen Aug 2015
?
Everyone always says that the other side is greener.
But sometimes the green is neon,
and how real is neon?
Daddy says join the football team.
Daddy says answer me when he talks.
Daddy says be the best.
Daddy says be a man.
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But I wish not to be a footballer.
Or any kind of sportsman.
I wish to write.
I wish to read.
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As much as I long for the words.
The ones that form in my head.
They cannot be spoken.
They cannot be heard.
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Being the best is what I want.
Yet it is so hard if you know not what the best is.
I am not the best.
I am never the best.
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How am I to be a man if no-one will show me what a man is.
My father is a strange man, one who beats his son.
My father is not a man.
My father is not a man.
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Hannah Anderson Jun 2014
throwing papers
up in the air
everywhere
wonderful bliss
4 years for this
I miss you now
we talked about how
this would be us
kissing
throwing it up
not giving a ****
i don't give a ****
i really don't

graduating next week
and i pretend to be sad to go
it really doesn't matter
ill walk and ill bow
ill get my diploma
i really don't know how....
I got the papers from the recycling bin
it says a lot doesn't it
Daylight 4U2C Feb 2014
Sleep.
Sleep child,
til' the light overpowers the darkness inside,
where I secretly cried.
I secretly tried,
but no one would guess,
and I never put my cards face up.
It's only ketchup.
Used to patch up,
the cut and scratch ups,
caused by the dull
of my pencil,
and my soul.
I fell,
but I dragged myself up again,
back into my daily skin,
and I'm that burden.
That one whose not fully there,
told by everyone, "you just don't care",
with a random shudder scare.
The words I despise you all think,
even the shrink,
and it drowns me to the sink.
I'm that disaster,
everyone's after,
maniacal laughter.
"Am I losing my mind?"
"Is this mind really mine?"
"Would dying be fine?"
I'm not so refined :)
I can see the things in perfect imagery,
things I don't want to see,
always worried everyone hates me.
I can't see,
I'm not me,
I'm not even a somebody.
Maybe inside is some other ghost,
I'm the host,
at my death let's just have a toast.
Til' death do we part,
take it as a new start,
buy the roses to my grave from walmart.
I didn't think I mattered anyways,
sleeping through these pass-me-by days,
my mind playing simon says.
I always secretly try,
but I am still I,
and now simon says ".....goodbye."
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