Amoy May 2018
Take take
Take it all
No give back
Fill your cup
Never fill mine
Feel the sunshine
Let me stand in the rain
I care, you don’t
Push but no pull
Receive but never give
Salute but never stand
Selfish, that’s your brand
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2018
I center almost all of my poems
in hopes, they will all be
more perfect and more beautiful
than me.
for those whose mothers are no more
the annual business hype of what to give
    and where to take your mother
is but  a sad remembrance of loss
stirring up memories of happier times
when she was still a pillar in your universe
loved and revered, and sometimes feared,
who taught you, patiently or not,  
the basics of survival in your expanding world.

She knew, while you were as yet unaware  
that all her loving preparations
would over time mean separation.

When you struck out to shape your life
all by yourself and left her with her fears for you,
her wishes,  and the hopes that what she tried
to give you was enough and right,
your heart and mind were elsewhere,  far away,
focused upon the future of your independent life.

Your years run fast and busy, and suddenly one day
you stand before her coffin
and discover that it is too late
for all the questions never asked.

What you have left are memories
and a vague sense of having missed the chance
to see - and maybe even understand a little -
the woman she has also been
throughout her life, behind her loving face
of a dear mother’s care and grace.
The upcoming Mother’s Day triggered these lines and made me remember the time when my mother was alive.
The Unsung Song Mar 2018
We walk down the street thinking,
about what the people behind us,
could possibly be saying about us.
We do this instead of minding our own business.

We center the world around us,
like it disappears when we blink.
I have news for you,
not everything has to do with you.

Just because someone is mad,
doesn't mean they are mad at you.
Just because someone is crying,
doesn't mean you did anything wrong.

There are a lot of confusing things about this world.
But none of things,
have anything to do,
with one,
human being.

The world circles the sun,
not some creature,
that is infinitely smaller,
than the world itself.

You better find yourself a new hobby,
because thinking about yourself all of the time,
it isn't good.
C Dec 2017
We are ****** into the reflective pools of narcissism that we hang on the walls,
pushing us further into the millions of
personalized tunnels of vanity
that lead to self-obsession and greed and ignorance.

These tunnels are separated
by thin pieces of glass,
through which the world and others existing in it
can be easily observed and interacted with if we choose to.
For some reason, though, we don't.

We are hypnotized by the images of ourselves.
We are fascinated with the way we feel,
not paying mind to how others emote.

"Listen to learn and understand,
not just to respond."
" - H dawg
Fox Friend Nov 2017
What a beauty this life might be if we learned to listen in order to understand instead of listening just to reply and regain focus of the spotlight.
Brett Palmero Jul 2016
Every moment is so small and brief
Yet is worth more than one can fathom
Sometimes joy, other times grief
A lot of the time it can be random

I wonder if the bad and good balances
And everyone is meant to live equally
Thinking like that has consequences
And I don’t have time for that really

So I choose to be selfish, make life mine
To make myself more important than others
If it all leads to happiness, isn't that fine?
Can I float along, not a leaf but as a feather?
ji Feb 2016
"You're quite narcissistic, I know.
And I only wish I'm the reflection you see,"
he paused, then whispered,
"fall in love with me."
Rosie Dec 2015
I think I'm really self centered.
See, I never cry when I'm supposed to.
Only when it's about me.

When our dog died, I didn't cry.
My sister got mad at me.
She said I didn't care about Jelly.
But I did care when the character in my book died.
I cried about that.

I didn't cry when my grandpa died.
I hadn't seen him in years
But still.
I did cry when I was in trouble.
I felt sorry for myself.
My tear ducts worked then.

I didn't cry when I found out my friend was hurting herself.
I was really sad, but I didn't cry.
I had tears streaming down my cheeks when I cut myself.
It seemed a lot more sad then.

Whenever my mom or sister think about my grandparents dying
They cry.
Whenever something sad happens on a tv show
I cry.

I've pinched myself before
Trying to make myself cry
Because I thought I was supposed to.
It didn't work.

Just because I can't cry doesn't mean I don't care.
Or does it?
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