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It was all the rage
in the food industry
or so they implied

It was easier to
go down the bakery aisle
or so they justified

It was how so many men
preferred to see dessert
or so they specified

But to her way of thinking
it just never looked right
no matter how she tried
Shannon Soeganda Dec 2020
You dismantled my ego like how she broke my heart.


your boundaries,

and your strong sense of self.

Allow me to detach from us.
It's never pleasant to work on our unhealed, anxious attachment style. I truly detest my irrational fear of abandonment. But at least I'm facing it now, and not running away from it.
Butterfly Nov 2020
The way they fit on my body.
They look wrong, weird, strange.
They don't fit, they dont belong with me.
Im struggling alot with my body image and my style and on top of that the judgement of others don't really help.
I wish somebody just came to my house and made me some outfits ****. Feel like im being dramatic but it really bothers me that I constantly feel like **** in my clothes.
Sarah Synk Nov 2020
I once cut my hair,
And wanted to grow it long like Repunzel.
I almost did.
But heaven forbid.
It was awful.
It grew out weird,
But you know-
I soon loved my weird style of hair.
It was beautiful- short- and fair.
And I did not simply care.
I once died it red,
The color of an apple.
And the hair dye faded,
And turned to brown.
I have an obsession-
Combing my hair too many times.
When I take a shower,
I love being able to washing it down,
With wonderful smelling shampoo.
It’s weird--- the hair on my (your) head can have some sort of history.
Stories throughout the years.
I like wearing a bun.
I like wearing a ponytail.
I like wearing bangs,
I think my hair is super lame.
But I can maintain.
I hate when it is all knotty.
And jumbled up,
In a huge mess,
My messy hair is not something I would love to address.
So yeah,
There goes my hair,
Blowing in the wind.
- Do Not Be Afraid If It's An Awful Hair Cut, but Embrace it. Won't be a hard task in the end!
Saulė Nov 2020
I was always out of style
Always late to trends
I thought I was unique and smiled
Until I really lost myself
I understood what I did wrong
And why I always felt alone
Why people looked at me and smiled
But never really came to talk

Cause my style was ugly
And my style was weird
I never had something to offer
To myself or to my friends

Cause I was always out of fashion
And I was always late to trends
I never knew what went together
Or how to match the colors well
Steve Page Oct 2020
My enhancers
Are chosen carefully
And balanced with my dominant hue
To ensure
They first see just who
I am
And not see me through
my base blue
Colour is important
Seranaea Jones Oct 2020

" You have no real sense of meter,
your rhyming is non-existent
and you spell like a brat,
following no rules"


i didnt know i had to follow
any rules, 'cept the ones in my
head that represent limitation

"Well, you need to read up
on some of the more classic
"recognized" poets—
Learn the Proper Etiquette !"


i have read more than a few lines
of that finer moem-age poem-age,
and if you want to write about why
roses are red on fine sheets of poet paper
with a fountain pen in the fashion of Kipling—


i will more likely write about how well Violet blew
over the top of a half empty jug of bourbon with
a ball point pen that skips more or less
in the style of Bukowski—

and then someone can say that
we had both written poems
about Colorful Flowers...

© 2020
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2020
Writers are
The flexible species

If they want
They can conclude
Into haiku
And explain
As an epic
Genre: Observational
Theme: Writing is being
Karijinbba Sep 2020
You know you stopped me dead
while I was passing by
while you were inking gold
and glancing by;
reading poetry you like.

Oh my Lord I loved your style
and though I hadn't written
of this feelings all of my life,
I always thought in metaphorical
deep formating style.

One beastly soul
just loved my style becoming
a better patrkCham mind.
along with other Poets
thought of me
as different true and wild.

Two wolves pretended
to even like me in any form
As a rich goody two shoes
forelorned perceived was I
in my skin so wrongly viewed,

No sheep but Ram I am!
Some even called me weird
in dance and song so feared
I guess they saw
their own greedy eye revered.

So as my story in poem flowed
like a river rushing to the sea,
some poets joined my plea
to the sea I longed to join.

And as my river ran along
diverted its rushing went wrong
my river the sea never joined.

What's a river flowing!
what's a metaphor in poem!,
Copy Rights 09-2020 revised.
Some poetry makes it to it's destination
read by the intended target
this kind reaches to the sea joining in.
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