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Shin Mar 2015
I don't think my friends like me very much
and I don't think I like me very much.

A generic ex-teen sipping coffee
and all I ******* do is sip coffee.

Making a statement we already know
and telling a tale we already know.

Trying to be clever, wicked, and smart
and thinking I'm cool because I am smart.

So this song will end; it's lyrics are dead
and then I will leap and then I'll be dead.
Rock n Roll Poet Mar 2015
If only I had the time
To use all the time I have left
I'd use it only on you.
Abigail Kruke Mar 2015
The still room is filled with people,
Whose held breath, will never tell their stories
And it is,
*deafening.
sometimes silent is violent
Mikaelyn White Mar 2015
all of my attention is wasted differentiating

fact versus fiction
Garland Baldwin Feb 2015
darling*
it seems there are galaxies in your eyes,
and your lips sing the song of a million first kisses
Artic killer Dec 2014
Five twenty Texas.
In the morn
Fore the busses test their horns.
As a train rattles next to 377
Before I hit 7-11
Where I bet a dollar for a million
Sometimes two on a billion.
Never won once
****** little *****
I'll win tomorrow.
Cause I'll be up drunk for
Five twenty Texas
I should probably get some sleeping meds. Thanks to all my readers of I am ****!!!! Thank you !!! ^^
Cara Danielle Dec 2014
Today marks twenty.
There are knots in my stomach
at the thought of possibilities
and mending; but one day--
one day I'll leave.

It always feels like clean blank paper
with spaces waiting to be filled with anything but water;
I write this poem with clamor
for a world I have yet to see further.

Because today I am twenty.
*******.
Kagey Sage Oct 2014
The job's rotten, still.
So many days past writing on pages like these.
Hoping for the best,
full of angst towards schooling and lowly positions.
Now school's over, and I left old jobs,
but the lowliness takes new form.

I left so many of yous there,
but don't look at me all forlorn.
I finished my share of the toil toll;
I went to school, I went into debt,
without even buying a home,
and most important of all,
I only climbed a rung.

I wish I could walk into that retail barn with unfake flair.
Show everyone I'm doing something I loved
and always talked about;
museum work, teaching, or traveling.
Even those "choices" are too general.
Getting over 12 bucks an hour's half the battle.
I'm only almost there, again.
Summer Lee Oct 2014
If I didn't love my truck so much ,
I'd drive it off a cliff .
Do you know how maddening it is to go a whole day
Twenty ******* four hours
Without a single concious thought .
Except as when I drive home
And they rush me
Collecting their stamps on the first Tuesday of the month between my ears and
I switch on the radio
So I don't pull over and kick over that bird bath in that yard .
I love mine .
I sit on my hands so I don't serve myself to the belly of that semi.
I want to get a ***** tattoo .
I got to finish my hip .
What if I cover myself too much and I have no room left and I want more things to stop the aching ?
I'm 20 .
Two decades old .
I live with my parents again .
I have never gone downtown drinking .
Or finished enrolling in college .
Why do I chicken out of every ****** appointment ?
I don't want medicine .
I could go for a slushie .
Am I real person ?
I toy with my floor mat , because it makes me place my feet weird .
It's not because I'm awkward .
I wish I had a joint .
Wait .
I can't smoke **** anymore ,
It stops my heart .
Well ... ****** .™
Caitlyn Bruce Sep 2014
I don't remember what my father looks like anymore. Not off the top of my head. I can only picture parts of him, like his hands and his freckles, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

I am so undoubtedly his child, and I am terrified everyday. Sometimes when me and my mom fight she calls me Gary. She doesn't mean to, but we're overwhelmingly similar and it's hard for her. She's raised a child that has a mind so very opposite of her own.

My dad had something in him that would not settle. His brain always looked for darkness. My mother doesn't understand sadness. She cannot see why I look at things like he did.

I've tried to explain it, that I have part of me wanting so badly to be happy, but there's also a darkness in my brain that I cannot shake. I've tried pills, but I can't be on those forever, so now I'm on my own.

It's hard to believe that my father has been dead for 10 years now. That's half of my life. From now on I will have spent more time without him. It still aches like it was months ago and not a ******* decade.
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