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midnight and i'm still here
tapping out words in the hope
that i'll write something worthy
of reading.

the instructions aren't clear:
am i supposed to sleep
or work on word therapy
and...feelings?

i don't care now
just turn on tiktok
and i'll slip into my beloved
mind coma
All it takes
Is one look at
You and my heart is
Set off at
A million miles - per second.

The back of your head
Is enough to
Make my stomach
Twist in knots
For a few long hours. Plain giddy.

Well look at this,
Here I am
Perpetuating all
The stereotypes:
Welp, I think I fell

For my best friend - well done
Just know one thing,
Something before I leave:
This was never intentional,
Falling in love, being deceived.
I thought I could ignore it -
Push it to the back of my mind -
But it only grew, cultivated,
Leaving any sanity behind.
Just know one thing
Before you leave me forever:
I never meant to fall -
I didn't expect this feeling whatsoever.
grace 6d
I’m the most stereotypical teenager you’ve ever met.
I spend all my time with my friends.
I like frappuccinos and I’m obsessed
With my social media pages.

I fell in love with a boy;
And, when he broke my heart,
I sobbed on the floor for weeks
And then dyed my hair blonde and moved on.

I wore a pretty blue dress and sparkly heels to prom.
I graduated at the top of my class,
President of the honor society,
Friends with everyone.

I’m your stereotypical teenage girl.
I’m the main character in a Disney channel original movie.
I have everything, I think.
Why can’t I sleep at night?

What they don’t tell you in the movies
Is that when I’m not with my friends, I feel lost and alone.
When I was heartbroken, I fell apart.
I’m successful, but at what cost?

The stereotypical teenage girl gets 3 hours of sleep a night.
I spend most of the night doing work,
But I also spend time texting my friends and flirting with boys.
When I’m alone with only myself, do I still fit the stereotype?
Jay M Jun 4
Funny thing about being teenager
Is that privacy is a foreign concept.
Everyone has to know everything
And nothing is without ulterior motives.

Want a moment alone?
Nope, not allowed.
"You must have done something wrong."

Want to go see friends?
If you haven't brought them up,
Or brought them up too much,
"It's suspicious, and a no."

Decided to change up your style?
"Hell no, no way you're going out like that,"
Unless you have secret plans.

Voicing your opinions and concerns?
"Your opinions don't matter."
"It shouldn't concern you."

Having a horrible day, and need a break?
"Shut up, you're being dramatic."
"That's not an excuse."

Tired at any point?
"Quit it with the attitude."
"It doesn't matter how tired you are."

Depressed?
"Okay, and?"
"That's not an excuse."
"It's just for attention."

Overwhelmingly anxious?
"Get used to it."
"Quit being so dramatic."

Suicidal?
"Okay, that's nice."
"Just be happy! It's not that hard!"

*******?
"Shut up and go get your sh*t done."
"Don't give me that."

Curious about something?
"Someone is clearly a bad influence."
"What's going on with you?"

No matter what it is,
It either matters too much
Or nobody should care at all
Slowly, over the course of time
It all eats away at you, consuming you
Nothing is every "okay", or quite as it seems
Appearances are very, very deceiving
Or quite possibly revealing

- Jay M
June 3rd, 2021
Either things that have been said, or just generally how things go.
Oh, and nothing changes.
Bobby Dodds Apr 15
All things ancient are once born young.
All things secret are shared by tongue.
All things hatred are worn with love.
All things whispered are sung by doves.
All things stone always come undone.
the inspiration for this poem primarily came from the thought i had, that all things like ancient or old or archaic were once young, smart words out of the mouths of the loud. brand new and original, and here we are, writing about them, like they're old news or yesterdays column.
grace Apr 12
The plan was to break up with me at a coffee shop
That’s smart, I think
A public place, entirely neutral.

That didn’t happen
I got sicker
I couldn’t drive
I could barely get out of bed.

You still came over
You still said you loved me
You still said you wanted to be friends
You still walked away while I cried

I didn’t cry because of you, at first
I cried because it hurt to be awake
My body was tearing itself apart
Nobody was doing anything

I got better, not all the way, not yet
I have a plan for my body, now
I had an MRI today and I have acupuncture every week
I use every oil and ointment in the book

I have space to cry over you, now
I have space to be angry
I can tell your friends how you hurt me
I have time to listen and talk

You don’t want to talk
“I want to be friends”
That’s a lie
You don’t want to take accountability or talk about what happened

We gave each other a year of our lives
We’ve only been alive 18
And yet, you don’t want to talk
You just wanted to break up with me in the coffee shop
down the street from my school
Bobby Dodds Apr 6
Everyday I live,
Is another day away from your smile.
Hidden, shy, sly in style-
Masquerading behind silk and gold,
Splendid, lovely.
Milk and honey.
The clouds jealous,
Of the softness in your eyes,
Deep pools of cautious curiosity-
Bright but sharp in disguise.
Simple elegance doesn’t do you grace,
Simple potency doesn't do you measure.
But I hope to one day owe to you this pleasure.
I should mention that she likes to dress up as a princess, so I tried to go with that whole idea of regality.
Bobby Dodds Apr 5
Another day, another hour spent looking at cadavers,
Surprisingly fun, and suspiciously fresh bodies-
"Hey Mrs. Johnson, what do you think John did with his life?"
She gave me a look that didn't seem too pleased at my inquisition.
Or the fact that I named our body John.
Morbidly, I thought she looked at me like a zombie would look at our friend John like a cold cut subway sandwich,
Although I figured if I were a zombie,
I'd prefer my meat fresh, and not embalmed
with formaldehydes and ethanol.
"That thought seems inappropriate and not respectful of the medical sacrifice 'john' made " she said dripping with in my opinion too much sarcasm for me to NOT respond too.
"Well, John is dead, I don't think he's getting offended anytime soon," I retorted.
Her smile contorted like the prudish smile John offered me in support.
"I'm not worried about offending the corpse as much as I am the ghost, and this Lab will NOT be haunted under my watch"
(Her pride in her wit inflated much like Johns body inflated with decomposition and bowel gases.)
I apologized internally for the comment and action  I was about to make-
"This medical dictatorship has to collapse sooner or later-
and I still want an answer too my question"
And with that,
I took the nearest scalpel to his bloated stomach,
and watched in disgust and glee as everyone else ran for cover amongst the ****** of stomach contents and Johns final retribution in death.
I got an A+ in that class.
Probably one of my favorite classes I've ever taking, I don't think Mrs. Johnson was too pleased either that John's name resembled her own so closely. hahahah.
Med school, here I come.
my back aches
to the sound
of
footsteps
climbing up our stairs.
i,
alert,
run to hide all contraband
for fear of losing everything.
swallow loose pills
you remember you told me you hate me?
oh ****
its just my sister
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