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Bambi Apr 2019
My teddy bear told me I'm too ******* myself. He told me I worry too much.
He said that I'm pretty, I'm smart, I'm a good person with a kind heart.
He told me he loves me, he told me cares.
My teddy bear is my only real friend.
ms reluctance Apr 2019
Once upon a time,
my skin was skin,
splendid,
as long as I kept it clean.

Now I’m told
by the TV, internet, and magazines,
my skin
needs plumping,
brightening,
smoothing,
anti-wrinkle cream.

The mirror
used to show my reflection –
it served a purpose
like a toothbrush
used to maintain oral hygiene.

Now a mirror reflects
not just my visage
but judgement;
flaws
that need fixing.

Now I’m the clingy lover,
insecure, as I hover
two inches from the glass surface
that is less fragile
than my self-esteem sometimes.
NaPoWriMo Day 11
Poetry form: Free Verse
eve Apr 2019
ego
Living a life for another, made by others,
Anticipating and considering all these expectations,
Especially, for the fans who tolerate the process of expanding education and inspiration,
We’re doing everything we have to do to fulfill the next agent.
We are the creators of a new generation, influencing teens with the power of our platforms,
Reinforcing the idea of an effortless motivation.
To plan ahead, we’re moving forward,
Toward the subsequent destination.
We are the driving forces of multimedia nations,
Narcissism and low self-esteem are the feelings we’re morally inclined to,
Feeling our own bodies test addiction to a single notification,
We’re living in endless rotation.
Our minds have grown accustomed to the routines of checking the number,
Of likes and comments on the recent,
Even, lurking and giving into the guilty pleasure of stalking,
If the previous line resonates, then you’ve just justified our statistics and analytics.
The only way out is through resuscitation,
Deactivating can be deemed the easier option,
However, those who signed up for it can argue that widespread messages are the modern communication for our adolescents,
Setting a model for the next, following, and upcoming conversation.
Lua Apr 2019
In my mind
I am the only one
You dream about late at night
And my words are the sweetest lullabies
Making all the noise disappear
Fire bright, ignite in your mind
Bringing the sunrise to your long night
While your fantasies start to make sense
Because my dear, my love
My words become music combined with your scent
Synesthesia tonight, so please, let's dance
Here in the moonlight
Nothing about true romance
Just look at me, I'm the most beautiful delight
Let me shine, ignite in your arms
No fear, no harm
Only you and me, almost sublime
Just for tonight
I'm your most beautiful delight
Lillian Teresa Mar 2019
The girl in the puddle
Looks like a woman

Maybe the ripples
Warp my view-
Maybe not! But
I can't see clearly, anyway.

Her smile
Kind of looks like mine

Her longing ties strings to my heart
And pulls; I want to love her
Someone should.

She's been alone too long
Been at home too much
Been a *****
To get along with.

I see her again in the window
Of a shop; stalking me.
I can't escape her.

I want to leave her
Need to please her
Who is she, anyway?

I ask,
But she won't reply

I take,
And she does not give

She throws,
Still I do not catch.

I pick a flower
Bend over a pond
And place it behind her ear-

She does not thank me,
But-

Her smile
Kind of looks like mine
I wrote this during my last stay at a psychiatric clinic where I was challenged to write more positively about myself.
Alek Mielnikow Mar 2019
His eyes wore the red of tears
wept, kept hidden from all
sight and sound to fester in
the darker crevices of his
crown. But now it’s spilled on
the ground in a puddle like
fresh blood from opened veins.

And now, with all those pounds
off his shoulders and the boulder
stuck in his throat now swallowed,
he makes the promise to sing
his own song, to write his own
lyrics and bear with any rebellion
to his rule. His rule over himself.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
clark Mar 2019
in simple words,
i really like birds!
and all of the ways they sing.

sometimes i wish
i was a bird,
making my voice howl and ring.

theyre so triumphant
with their little voices,
something i can only dream to be.

but in a while,
ill shout with a smile;
ill scream a song, for all to see.
i just love birds
Madison Feb 2019
I'm not her.

Don't tell me that's not what you want me to be.

Even if it's true, I still see things in your eyes

For a moment, strange and wistful

Years younger

Then, brightly pain-filled

Once you're reminded of this here-and-now land

Where I, as you know me

Am the one you hold in your arms

And try your damndest to love.

I'm not her

And that is something I'm trying not only to accept

But embrace.

If that's something you can't do

Well, --

Stop embracing me.
guess who's back? :)

this poem is directed at one person in particular: me, myself, and i.
Marissa Feb 2019
damaged
a word never described it so perfectly
it functions good enough
but wear and tear over time
has taken away the shine
damaged
like scrap parts sold for cars
once it was beautiful and whole
but it sits on its own
and even if it does find another home
or something to complete
it will still stand out
like mismatched socks
damaged
when they look at him they see character
every dent tells a story
of tough times and how they only made him stronger
but in her they see something wrong
a machine broken beyond repair
if she could she would smash her entire being and watch the pieces shatter
because at least something obliviated
doesn’t have a false sense of hope
blindly dragging it along
wondering if one day things can be repaired and the damage be undone
damaged
we don’t know when along the way it happened but it did
and it has altered everything about her
from the way she smiles to the way she sees the world
i wish i could show her how to re-wire her brain so her thoughts can be reset
and the pieces can rearrange until they feel like they are where they’re supposed to be
but she is damaged
i am damaged
a word has never described me so perfectly
damaged
Rowan Wolff Feb 2019
Believing yourself to be
Worthless
Is a horrible
Horrible
Thing
You live
And yet
You do not think yourself
To be deserving of being
Alive
For why
Should a useless thing
Exist
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