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Comfortable with the unspeakable
Obnoxious unconfrontational
Augmented stolen-perch ******,

Agel, with no ‘n’ for nurture, eyes for plundered treasure
Your age isn’t elegant
Eat the ****** fruit whole with the pips, as old children are murdered, opal fires fixed in feathers...
ac Jul 30
“you’re so mature for your age”
i was 8
i don’t think i should be mature at 8
i shouldn’t even know what “mature” means
i should’ve been a kid but he robbed me

“YOU NEED TO ACT YOUR AGE”
i am!! i finally am!!!
i’m 14 and messed up completely
this is what it’s like now to be a teen

“act like an adult”
yet i’m treated like a child
no wonder you think im wild

your calling me crazed?
babe im freaking insane!!
i’m 16 and everytime that you call
i bang my head against the wall
i wanna KICK,
SCREAM,
and CRY!!
but that’s not how i should behave
it’s not how i was raised
because im “so mature for my age”
mysterie Jun 22
every morning, 
i stare at the mirror --
looking into my own eyes
like they belong
to someone else.

my smile feels forced,
stolen.
like i borrowed this body,
and forgot 
to give it back.

i don't deserve it.
i neglect this body,
my shattered heart
would survive better
in someone
more loving
and patient.
date wrote: 22/6/25
YOU WOULDN'T STEAL A WALLET!?
Then don't steal my poem,
You just stole a hard night's work from me.
If you say stealing money is bad, then don't contradict yourself. These 'stupid words' will be my dream career one day.
Often,
I feel like,
I am a door,
For people to go through,
To get better off than me.
This has been the only one of these I've done where the lines count perfectly without any effort, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
Jia En Oct 2024
Sometimes one plus one isn’t two.
Sometimes you
Look
At a person with things
That don’t add up, wondering
Where they took
The excess from.
Because sometimes one
Can skip the work, have fun
With threes
(Sounds familiar to me).
One becomes two
While you lose some value.
So maybe
Two plus zero can equal three
When skills rub off
Accidentally.
i hate math and i hate people
Jeremy Betts Oct 2024
I'm not afraid of death
To be completely honest
I'm more afraid of life
That part has been the darkest

Tomorrow drags behind it
Anxiety of the unknown
And leaves it at the doorstep
Of the temple ruins I call home

A heart does not regrow, no
Where pieces are ripped out and stolen
Damaging words and moments fill in
What's left stays threadbare and broken

If I've said it once
I've felt it twice
The thought of nothing
Has long enticed

©2024
Emery Feine Oct 2024
I stepped into life's train station
But I hadn't noticed their scheme
And they took away my imagination
And they took away my dream

On the train I looked out the tinted glass
But the ride wasn't what it seemed
Because they took away my ticket pass
And they took away my dream.
this is my 104th poem, written on 6/4/24
So innocently devious
in naive treachery.

More than a fancy walk
Could steal a man's glance
And invite a sparkling collar.
Or soft spoken passion compel the flesh
To gratify its hot appetite.

To speak elegantly of this and that,
And trap me in the stillness of your voice.
All the while you trickle down my vein
And melt away my heart's wall.
Brick by brick,
To my very foundation.

How freely you throw out these kind gestures
That hang me from your words,
And fill my head with empty waiting thoughts.
How carelessly you stole this
From under my ribs,
With a sideways eye and a smile
held in soft lips.
To dance across the room
And ****** it with a whisper.

Beautiful thief.
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