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She's a beautiful disaster
Pale skin blue eyes
Dark messy hair
She wants to be someone else
You can see it in her sad eyes
The way her smile curves a little at the edges
The way she talks
Not what she says
But the tone she uses
She wants to be someone else
Someone prettier
Someone calmer
Someone someone other than me
    
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mokitovice May 2015
after all the talking,
she saw an oportunity
he left a small door open,
it was so tiny, that she almost missed it
so she reach out and touch his soul
just for an instant, it was almost like a dream
like it didnt happen
it was lust and angels
is like you can touch the sky,
and as soon as you get close enough, you fall
but when you fall, you're numb

she could let herself dream, and make you laugh
be gracefull and delicate
she could be smart enough to know when to back off
and then you'll completely fall for her
but she's not that type of girl
the one that waits for a men to writte her a poem
she's the one that writes a poem about him
Meg B Dec 2014
Sometimes I think
I could really like
Someone,
but then 2 to 3 weeks
go by,
and as I get to know who
Someone is,
I remember Someone
isn't You,
and my heart is
so chock-full of
like for You
there ain't no room
for Someone,
for someone else.
No longer are you running from yourself
For yourself is someone else.
Mary Christopher Jun 2014
I wanted to be the one who saved him
And maybe that’s the saddest part,
That I wanted to save him
But failed.
I kept trying, but I never could

And I know that’s kind of horrible,
That I didn’t want him to be himself.
I wanted him to be someone else

Someone he wasn’t
And never would be
And never could be
Even if he tried

I wanted him
But I also wanted someone else
So I tried to make him be both

But of course I failed
Because each of us
Has only one life to live

So if someday
He becomes someone he’s not
I will know

And I will hate it
Because now I realize how beautiful
His own self really is

And I would never wish him to be someone else
Not now
Not anymore

Because I am me
And he is he
And that’s all we’ll ever be

And knowing that is a strange sort of beautiful
That not even the best writer could put into words.

m.c.c.
about a friend of sorts...
You built me up to be someone else,
Then you took it all away.
I don't know how you think I'll survive;
People weren't built that way.

— The End —