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heather leather Nov 2015
when you are six you will hear many things.
you will hear that you are gorgeous, that you are growing into
a beautiful big girl and your favorite sound will be the addictive
beats of your mother's jazz records and whenever you
are bored you will dance the only way you know how;
shamelessly and recklessly, swaying your small hips and legs
in rhythm with the music. this will be before you become
embarrassed of your gangly and uncoordinated body and
before you discover why your mother plays her jazz
records late at night so loudly. when you are six,
it will be the last time you will remember being happy;
before the word content disappears from your mind
as easily as the stolen homemade chocolate chip cookies
that you would sneakily eat before dinner
melt in your mouth, you will be six and the world will be
the biggest puzzle you cannot wait to solve.

(h.l.)
I'm starting a series with short age poems up to eighteen :) tell me your thoughts !!
ri Nov 2015
they call it self harm like you are the one hurting yourself. I can tell you that six months ago I was not the one carving hate into my skin. but people don't want to hear that. people don't want to hear that my skin has been razor free for half a year because that would mean razors have touched it. I know this because I told my best friend about my hobby and they are not my best friend anymore. people only want to be friends with survivors. no one wants to be around long sleeves regardless of the weather. no one wants to be around a rain cloud on a sunny day. no one wants to go on a drive with you if you always end up at the same bridge. you have to learn how to be your own best friend. you have to learn to put the razor down. you have to learn how to love yourself. you have to learn that scars heal and people change. six months ago I did not know this. I've learned I've changed and so can you.
Grace Victoria Oct 2015
i missed you, but not anymore
a six word story
Cecelia K Oct 2015
Its night's encapture that provokes thoughts.
gene Oct 2015
“I’m just tired.”
*That’s your excuse.
Gita Sep 2015
My depression translates into artsy poetry.
Gita Sep 2015
I am addicted to good writing.
Gita Sep 2015
Words are worthless unless they're heard.
I wanna be the one to make you laugh
Throw your head back, eyes squinted
Your mouth in the form of a toothy grin
Maybe some dimples here and there
But it's okay if you don't have them
I'd still think you're perfect anyway
Killing time before I leave for PE class.
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