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Hannah Jones Apr 2019
Cut the pretense.
We both know
--we as in me
and myself
looking in the "I" of the beholder--
that you're scared.

Every fiber
of my being
fights against this pen
this hand
these thoughts

What to think?
Maybe forcing thought
is my form of rebellion
You can't invade
if thoughts are
my barricade
so I build
piling high rhymes
pseudanymes for good times
--words that are not my own.

What do I own?
I borrow my words,
my thoughts,
my emotions.

Do I go through the motions?
Or have I learned how to respond
as anything besides a pawn
in a game I don't even
know how to play?

Just stay.
If you're in quicksand,
sink.
If you're thirsty,
drink.

And  t h i n k.
Think for yourself.
Your mind is your weapon
as is your heart
so play your part
with courage
for you were cast for a reason.

Embrace your season.
Bear the cross
and let it be messy.
Nobody believes that it's easy
so stop resisting
and start lifting
Let yourself be strong
Let yourself be weak
Let yourself  b e.

Your strength is your presence.
Your weakness, your solitude.

"Yourself to yourself--"
too near, or too far?
Can you even determine
proximity
when reality and reverie
blend more often than not?

Be at peace.
Stop resisting.
Know where you stand,
and have a seat.

We've been waiting for you.
Prompt: resistance
Result: unnamed inner demons coming to light
mjad Feb 2019
This is a soul that cares more about itself than the expectations for the vessel that hosts it
do __ understand ?
Mick Jan 2019
When did this become so difficult?
writing just to write,
feeling to feel,
are you speaking to speak,
or speaking to be heard?
I am speaking to myself
for myself
by myself
with myself
to better understand what secrets my conscious knows about me.
Ron Jul 2018
Always up
Late at night
Smoke alone
Feel alright
Thoughts wander
To the great beyond
Into oblivion
Searching for a brighter Sun
Light another one
Chase away the dark
Searching for another spark
I need a little hope
I've been lacking that
Stuck on contemplating past
Choices, I've been forced to ask
Is this worth it?
Will it pass?
Am I destined or am I ******?
Hannah Christina May 2018
Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?
Problems only We True Artists face.
Dresden Jan 2018
My dream was just like my everyday
walking about
watching my nieces play

Perfectly aligned with reality
in the restroom I gaze into a mirror
viewing myself with perfect clarity

Lifeless eyes
with redish-blue bags underneath them
Hair that had been cut all off
and dyed to resemble a rotten plum

My skin as pale as can be
Is this how I see myself?
...or is this how others see me?
Sarah Elizabeth Dec 2017
She sits on her bed wondering if she will ever get better.
Ever BE better.
She wonders if her choices and emotions are her fault
Or a product of something deeper.
She stares at herself in the mirror
and wonders
If her tired eyes were caused by the torrent of tears, or instead, if they were caused by life's tolls.
But,
What she doesn't know,
Is that the only person who sees her in this way
Is herself.
She
Is only the underdog
To herself.
I was reading through old journals I wrote for creative writing and this was one of them. The prompt for the journal was "The underdog..."
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