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Your name sudden appears
In every billboard n sign I see,
I find you in the books i read
N your personality is presented
In the tumblr quotes I repost

Modern technology and advertisement
Could be the culprit of why your
Always runing within my mind
But that be a lie cause while in bed
And the lights are dim I think of everything me and you could be.
Aubree Brianne Apr 2014
What do you think of when you hear my name?
Is it bad? Is it good?
My name does not belong
My name does not belong on the bad side
When you barely even know me
My name is not the way that
I've cut my wrist to see the vein
It's not the way that I was brought up
It's not the way that I was taken advantage of when I
Myself
Was a child
My name is not
The way that I'll lay in bed for hours
and cry over you
My name is not
The way that I am always sad
My name is not
The way that I bash myself
My name is not
**Something you know
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Mew
as soon as these blue speckled
socks go, that's it. A new bright black death.A solemn weir on a stark horizon.Give me a reason to wear color. My hueless affidavit
runs me into the Earth, where I sprout up
a pallid keb- brain orf'd, you could drag my etiolated ebon
body through the ovine fold or take me to the theater. When I was just a minor teg, I sheared my mim kip, I fuckinggave it to you outright. In this little
cote my wan mien nigrifying; my calamitous black, quaffed full of congou in demitasse, of souchong & saucers. My atrous wethered body albicantly degenerating in the atrous sun. I'm crusting over with wanness and you, you're fortifying in the cwm where I used to yaff and stray. Your ovivorous hunger,something I never knew, when first you came for my jecoral flesh, just another bot digging through my soft toison. Like Dall's Prometheus being sheared from the flock-you cut me away. In this drab and achromic world, you put the wanness in my flesh, the gid in my heart. Still.
Just these blue socks are left.
Written Sitting against an Oak tree outside of a family friend's farm in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin
Jazmine Moore Apr 2014
I lost my mind when you died
I don't remember the exact time you left,
but I remember how it felt..
and I promised myself I wouldn't speak of you again,
But today i found myself at your funeral.
Consumed with sorrow, I looked into your eyes'
and it was then I knew you were truly gone.
So lifeless and empty,
I was overpowered with grief,
You need a heart to survive;
and without you I lost half of my heart.
So, consider me half dead.
"For I will love you until we become dust, and I will continue until our dust becomes dust."
I don't know much about physics,
but I can assure you I am physically broken,
and if you looked into my eyes, you wouldn't see anything.
No hope.
Nothing.
All I want to do is feel again.
I am numb, and I can't take away the numbness.
I keep reaching for you and as soon as I get close enough to touch you,
You're gone again.
My last wish was to wake up, reach for you, and you be there laying next to me.
Holding me.
Kissing me.
Loving me.
For eternity.
Because I am eternally in love with you.
But you're dead..
and I'm not sure I can live with that.
I wrote this poem about the one boy who will forever hold my heart.  He is not literally dead, but his soul is gone. I don't know if I will ever hold him again, i pray that I do though.
Jazmine Moore Apr 2014
Transcending into space, my body is becoming detached  from my mind.
While we have found ourselves separated in body, my mind has not lost you.
I cannot rid my ears of the sweet tune you sang to me no matter how many times I press pause.
Pause, I still love you.
I love you like a drunk call at 4am saying "I miss you, come back."
Psychotically, I love you past pain and broken promises, and "I hate yous" and "don't talk to mes"
Even after you decode you are done with me, I will love you.
I will love you until my bones become marrow.
I will love you at your darkest.
And I will love you until you see the light that i see shining from you;
A light that shines so bright, I am constantly blinded by the suffering your love causes.
Ironically, your wicked tongue is the only cure to the disease bringing upon my downfall,
and your hands are my safe place to run to when I find myself homeless once again.
For, I have found a home within your heart and car is still parked in the driveway..
Drive away from the world for a second and remember who you are, who we are..
A piece of me has pierced your heart, and for that reason alone, you can't seem to get rid of me.
I still love him.
ɐnoɹ Apr 2014
Loneliness doesnt mean staying alone,
Loneliness means nobody understanding your soul..
-and you push people away then.
ɐnoɹ Apr 2014
...
One more scar..One more bad memory..
Noah A Baker Apr 2014
So, what if I told you
reality is the dream.
Are you prepared for the
                                         NIGHTMARE?
Do you want to wake up?
Yes, the key is to open your mind and wake up and become one of the socially conscious higher ups in the anarchy we call
Society,
But with great power comes great responsibility.
Honestly, do you believe in the prophecy that our generation can
RISE THROUGH ADVERSITY
Become the masterpiece that God envisioned when he created this tapestry of writers and athletes?
Actually, better yet
Do you believe in the ghost of the past that rest uncomfortably in it's sanctuary?
Are we the Golden Age or are we gilded
We're livid, vivid, driven toward a goal that looks more like a sign telling us we're going the wrong way.
A wicked testimony.
So we're faced with these two options
To wake up or remain dormant
To be a pawn or be a king
To live on our knees or die on our feet
And I don't blame you if you choose eternal slumber
Because we all love to sleep and it's ironic because that's what we look forward to to during each and every day we spend in this dream --
I mean, reality
But, if you choose to lay off the benadryl and take a dose of this "real world"
You may find that missing key you've been looking for.
Or, the glass can be empty and you find nothing but misery and insomnia.
Again, the choice is yours and even if it may SCARE you
Dying on your feet means you learned to walk.
Isn't that the first thing we learn to do?
So maybe our parents actually taught a life lesson
(to our extreme disbelief)
And do know a thing or two
But still, we are the iPhone generation
And they have no clue how to tweet anti government conspiracies and
scroll for hours on tumblr
So what do they know
For all we know they may still be asleep and in the same cheap hotel room as us
So is there to trust
When we dream of gamemasters loving torturing the lower classes and pitting them against each other in death matches?!
Take this match and spark the cowards
Bring light to the revolution and set ablaze the darkening towers
Let's have lucid dreams and rebuild the democracy
Dreams and reality become synonymous and merge into each other to form a new entity and we shall call it
**GOD? YOUR MASTERPIECE!
sorry it's so long
hm.
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