I'm a freakin' autonomous creation of my mother.

Sean Hopps May 28

Like feathery pearls,
The snowflakes unfurl
And glow as they slowly float down

The snow - winter's seed,
It falls; never cedes
Builds up as it reaches the ground.

This curtain of white
Blows on through the night,
At dawn coming up to our knees.

It falls without sound
Though the wind sometimes howls
And doesn't forget not to cease

I know it's not snowing in most places at the moment but I wrote this a couple of months back when it was winter. It always gives me an incredibly serene feeling when I look out the window and see the snow fall so delicately.

he keeps me
trapped in a prism prison of different shades and tints of red
crimson, scarlet, marlot
follow me down into some kind of thing we'll drag on for months
keeping the dead animal of our situation-ship around until the neighbors complain of the stench
i dont know, dude.
i open myself up and i see the same shades of red flowing out
the stench is there as well- i smell like a gun
anxiety chews away at the rest of my body,
gnawing on my ear, feeding me more information i didn't need to hear
you say i'm trigger happy when it comes to jumping to conclusions
if i'm a gun, you're the smoke from the shot.

you're difficult. this is going to kill me
The Trumpoet Feb 21

Snowflake is a word that the trumpists will use
to describe those of us who have different views.
They say we're entitled, they say that we whine,
they say give Trump a chance and we'll all be just fine.

They claim that we snowflakes are spreading fake news,
and cannot accept, when a battle we lose.
They say snowflakes get angry each time we don't win.
They claim we have tantrums and very thin skin.

Let them call us all snowflakes, and reason will show
that the number one snowflake... is someone we know!

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/ZHAYUw9n00c
Written January 23, 2017
V Jan 12

A snowflake kissed me
Upon my bright cherry cheeks
The softest kisses

Ellie Geneve Dec 2016

Drop me like a beat
Stomp me underneath your feet
like you're happy and you know it.
Empty yourself from me
Throw me like I'm the rain to your cloud
weighing you down
And I will fall like the fast and heavy rain.
But I will not come down crashing
I will come down splashing.
I will be the soothing mist that covers windows
I will travel with rivers as the wind blows
In winter, like a snowflake, I'll freeze
Children will play with me
And I will take any form I please.

Audrey Maday Dec 2016

Snowflake kisses
Are almost as good
As the real thing.

WistfulHope Dec 2016

Snowflakes fall to the earth like suicide jumpers.
And I laugh because if I don't I have to listen to the silence.
Or worse.
And I laugh because I don't want to hear myself crying.

Waiting for icicles to form, and splinter, and crack under their own weight --
These are the games that plague souls;
Wishing away the snow with feet planted in blizzards,
Staring at the moon and trying to bathe in the last dripping morsels of sunlight shining onto the earth.

I lay buried so far beneath laughter and snowflakes that I am too cold to touch.
Touch me and scatter the blisters on my tongue,
For words are only dipped in honey, but it cannot hide the hollows inside.

And here I am, like a snowflake.

Hayley Siebert Dec 2016

Your self entitlement is sickening
When did psychosis become so beautiful?
The image of victim hood so appealing

What must you weep for?
When mummy and daddy pay for your carelessness
Your car, your phone, your clothes

The spoiled soul
intent on self destruction
when you can no longer consume
self harm is on fleek

Your little mind a cascade of self inflicted bruises
Throw yourself into a war zone
The day in the human traffic
Sit under a paedophile's glare
live under the shadow of poverty
Sleep by the plague streets

Oh you poor pathetic hipster
Here, have the BPD and PTSD
Sleep with one eye open!
With the knife and dog by your pillow
For the abuser that vowed to return
For the shadows that haunt the night
For the insomnia that wracks your brain
For the voices of a demonic opera

This is not special
This is hell
I am NOT special!
The world owes me nothing!

For what I have, what I want
I fight, I strive, I survive
I am not a snowflake
There are many more like me

Who live by the ashes of temples
By the bombs of sands
In the wake of unclean hands
For virginity stolen!
For childhood lost
By war, poverty, disease, rape

Your vulgar cry
with all the middle class entitlement
That muffles out the true cry

The cry of a child in the Gaza strip
The cry of forced marriage
The cry of the cancer bearer
The cry of a soldier in the heat of battle
The cry of a mother who could not feed her babe
The cry of the hymen ripped out
The cry of the elderly
The cry of the camps
The cry
to which you find so pretty
which you know nothing of...

You mold it your life
of middle class shit!
Your glorified bedroom
a western modern pit
Iphone, computer, holiday in the sun
Yet you still feel undone?

So you putrid little fetus
Take my hand, we shall go
where your entitlement can not tread
where the raped are forgotten and suffering are dead

Like a puzzle
Frustrating, beautiful,
And in the end fulfilling
Finding the right words
The right thing to say
That helps you express
The way you want to be

Like a bestfriend
A confidant
Pouring your soul out
Because you can
Your fears
Your desires
Your problems
Your choices

Like a snowflake
Always new
Always different
Always unique
Not one is alike

Like a child’s dream;
An ice cream shop
So many choices
Too many choices
You want them all
You hate them all
You can’t have them all

Like a piece of art
Whether paint or clay
Different formats
Different colors
Different shapes
And different sizes

Like an orchestra
All different sounds
Coming together
To make one big,
Beautiful, enthralling
And emotional sound

Because poetry is poetry
Everything works
Everything fits
Nothing is wrong
Nothing is right
Just freedom
In words

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