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SinoAko Nov 27
Each piece is a part of me.
This one is my personality,
That one my temperament.
They all complete me fully.

Others saw me whole,
They said I was too different.
I agree wholeheartedly.
From others, their pieces I stole.

I put his thoughts there,
And her standards here.
The others took a glance,
Yet I was too similar to compare.

I was confused at first.
Isn’t this what you wanted,
For me to be similar and unoriginal.
Now fitting in was the worst.

Now I look to find,
The pieces of me I gave away.
I should’ve never listened,
To the opinions of mankind.
Shower, you
touch me, still,
hotter than
clumsy fingers.
Clumsy advances.
In the water,
I see shapes
rising in steam
built by the
confidence
I can manage,
alone with you,
when I sing.

. . .

Lights out, cast a dark net.
Got the      yellow lights outside,
though,
catching my plans
on the
unbalanced heel,
but the      assisted glow
just makes my. . .
my aura cut out
a visible,
protective shape.

More than this,
in the music,
wearing my skin,
proud, yet *****,
I
      bravely emanate.

Oh ((oh)) Oh ((oh)) Oh ((oh))
I won't live forever.
Oh ((oh)) Oh ((oh)) Oh ((oh))
I just want some      infiltration.
I just ((just just)) I just ((just)) ((just))

I just --
wait. It's no meager thing.
I'm no meager thing.
I want a man
to be a man.
A man who knows
what to do,
exactly when,
and knows
who to do it to.

Why?

I want a man to be a man,
meat mountain in motion,
so little body fat
that
        I. . .

Can make mixed drink rivers
flow through the cracks of
his ****** abdominis.

Now,
dance 2 it.

Now,
dance 2 it!

I want a girl
to be a girl.
Her, tolerant,
forever
diminutive,
and knows
how it goes, because.

Why?

I want a girl to be a girl,
Youtube tutorials,
one of two: **** or ***.
I
  want. . .

Long hair and circus paint
on a few warm holes,
willing and wet, or, at least
wet.

Now,
dance 2 it.

Now,
dance 2 it.

Now,
dance 2 it!

It's raining money
where it rains.
In the open.
It's raining respect
where it rains.
In the light.

Where am I?
(Where am I?)

I'm. . .         here.
Madison Oct 16
Not too tall --

Don't want him towering over me

Looking down on me

Humiliating me

In more ways than one.


Eyes should be dark --

Not pale.

Don't want them

Cold, empty, icy

Don't need

A shark-like gaze

To chill me to the bone.


Not too large --

Don't need him to tell me

Just how big and strong and intimidating he is

Can't have him saying

Outright or otherwise

That he could hold me

Or anyone else down.

What else are arms for?


Not too crude --

In fact, I just might want him to talk

Like a woman.

Don't get me wrong --

My vocabulary is colorful enough.

It would be hypocritical to rule out profanity.

But, as soon as you call me or her or him or this or that

'*****'

The bile will surely be climbing my throat.


Not too proud --

Yes, confidence is attractive

But conceit is certainly no match.

I don't care if he thinks he looks good --

I will most likely agree that he does --

But one who can not admit to his mistakes

Let alone answer for them

Is a frightening caricature of humanity.

I am so flawed, love

But my flaws are not the cause of yours.


Not too dense --

Anyone who reads this

Male, female, or other

And calls me a 'man hater'

Or asks what I would think of a man

If he wrote something like this about a woman

Should run along

For that is not what I'm saying

Not at all.


I know what I deserve

And it's just what everyone else should get.

I just believe

That 'do unto others'

Should not die

Once the ring is on the finger

Or the name is on the dotted line.

I just believe

That 'love' should not be bastardized

To mean an unconditional, everlasting loop of

'Whatever you want

Honey.'

Only give what you'd want to get

Only take what you know you need

No matter the giver.

Bestow and accept nothing less

And as much more

As you can manage.


Believe me

I'll keep doing the same

No matter what you say.
megan Sep 30
i am restricted to this box,
terrified of what people may think.
my throat, my stomach, everything's in knots,
and i am heaving on the brink.
hollow Sep 30
how have you not gone insane
when you pretend that you don’t feel pain

when you are supposed to take the same pill
everyday, same time,
when you have to submit your paper
before the deadline,
when you have to wear certain clothes
can't go against their dress-code,
when you are asked to speak your mind
but your words are confined
when your dollar only gets you so far,
but they tell you to reach for the stars
when they deny your application,
yet you have never gone on a vacation
when they try to reach out,
but they don’t want to be put out
when you stare off into space,
wondering what’s outside this place

how have i  not gone insane,
my minds a ******* hurricane
this poem is for whoever wonders how, even themselves have not gone crazy from the rules and standards made by society and the stoicism that we sometimes are confided in.
Amy
Dear Amy

The sun is smiling at you
The beach calls you
Why are you hiding ?!
You're so beautiful, put on your bikini now and go show off your body.
Are not you shaved?
Your hair on the body is not sin, it was *** who put it there.
Show the skin, show the veins show your face.

Dear Amy

Your face is so beautiful your skin and so lush, but remember what I told you?
You're more than that.
Your beauty will pass by one day your lush skin will have wrinkles.
But your mind and your brain will  have knowledge forever.

Dear Amy

I like your legs I like your body, I like to see you in every way.
You do not need them to find you ****.
Put that lingerie on you and show me those stretch marks.

Look in the mirror and say:

Damm! My stretch marks make me a mermaid.
My weight makes me happy and  I was not made to follow standards.

Beauty standards  weaken me
And I'm a woman
I'm not weak.

I was born strong and no one is going to take that away from me.

I was not born to please those who do not care about me.
I am confident and I make of my scars experiences.
You need to hear this truth.
You do not owe anyone your body.
You do not owe anyone your sanity.
And even if you change, you will never please everyone.
The only  person who has to be  pleased is me.
Today wash your face and leave the makeup, show the freckles, let the skin breathe.
But tomorrow if you want to put your lipstick red and slay.
Do not let them steal your freedom.
You are a butterfly.
 Free yourself
And fly.

Dear Amy

Stop selling your brain girl.
Stop selling your sanity.
They do not deserve the prominence you give them.
Remember that you have fire inside.

Seek  for yourself   in the midst of your imperfections, date with your insecurities.

You need them  to feel alive.
Do not give them the pleasure of controlling your brain.
You are selling your feelings to leeches.
Nobody is perfect.
Accept this .
They do not want to know what you feel.
They want to rob you of the right to speak.
Take the shine you have inside you
And let it flow.
I need the best quality **** on the market, brand new
and in good condition.
The question is, “What is their *** worth?” If a man values his manhood, it would be high demand. In other words, he cares about who he shares himself with.
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