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Kacie May 2021
Im a barbie girl, in this barbie world
It's fantastic, everyone's plastic
You cannot feel me their
Why do you think you can stop and stare
******* me with that, imagination.

I post daily, fooling everybody
That I am perfect.
It's horrific.
Convorting myself into this typical dumb blond chartor.

Glaze upon my skin as it is flawless
Little do they know it's stage makeup and filters
I have many scars on the inside.
I am starving, but cannot dream to take a bite
Got to pretend that my body is perfect.

Im a barbie girl, in this toxice world
I am drowning, but the waters plastic
You cannot feel me their
But you could not care
******* me quickly, it's fantastic.

Telling all the little girls thats i'm so happy
And this is their dream life
While hiding in the corner hating every part of myself.
Somebody save me from this glitter nightmare.

I'm stuck inside this dollhouse
The walls won't break
They just dress me up, because my lifes a game
But jokes on them, my blond is fake.
I hate my pretty pink prison.

Im a barbie girl living in a hell world,
It is honestly fantastic, no my heart is plastic
You maze well touch me their and undress me anywhere
Now I have realized no one really cares.
Yes im a barbie girl, living in a barbie world
I am now an addict , it's fantastic
No one want to stop and stare
No one wants to feel me there
When I'm washing down the pain with pills and drinks.
Aubry Apr 2021
I always used to wonder why things ended
Why "the end" was such a hard thing to admit
Why there were tears
Why there was no smiles to be found
I didn't understand why people would be so sad
Besides the end was just a new beginning
Then I grew up
I realized the end does in fact bring a new beginning
But that new beginning is something that you cant control
Its a change that is almost always expected
Yet no one sees it coming
I get it now
Sometimes "the end" is just to hard to bare
Alexciya Feb 2021
be mine

on this lovers day

red velvet russian roulette

and blood worn lingerie

our chaos swept the city

now a vacant town is our ballroom

the Romeo to my Juliet

“Where art thou?”

I know you hear me calling you.
Danielle Feb 2021
I always write about love
and think I'm into it
And think of its twist and turn,
It wasn't that easy to love and
To be loved.
Each day we're swooning by
The comfort of the Sun,
I could not remember the last time
The light had left me;
No one would ever take a glance
on their dark times.

I know, I am complete--  living on a guarantee that
The stars will hold on into the night,
Each night where you will hear the
Swan's lullaby
And in morning, you will embrace
The thoughts of last night's catastrophe.
Namrata Mishra Jan 2021
You are a kaleidoscope my child

A glimpse into the multitude of colours

That shine brightly like the stars

Every angle that it is twisted in

Forms a new magnificent presence

Celebrate your mistakes today

For they are not what they seem

They celebrate you, a masterpiece
Abner Ros Nov 2020
The red stained concrete often intrigued the neighbours, though they unanimously agreed to never bring it up with the Atkinsons.
Abner Ros Nov 2020
Above was a canvas, splashed with more stars than anyone could count, except Lorence. Stars shined atop the lavender and cobalt backdrop and encircled the warm glow of the Moon, with hundreds of thousands of eager eyes watching on as a blissful light danced across the sky. Most witnessed this display through their bedroom windows in the early hours of the morning, but some had different ideas. Some had bigger ideas.

The loud creaking was quickly subdued as Lorence, shuffling up the stairs on all fours, held a thick blanket against the aged wood and mouthed a quiet shush to the ground beneath him, as loud footsteps approached from above.  
“What are you doing awake?” Mumbled a lofty bearded man, still dreaming.
Lorence froze, like a prisoner caught tunnelling to freedom.
“It’s a full moon tonight!” He replied, far too energetically for this early hour.
“Alright. Well, get to bed.” His dad smiled. “And get that thing off of your back,” he gestured towards the bulky telescope.

After his dad left, Lorence’s mission continued as he waddled towards the balcony with his blanket around him and telescope clutched by both hands. The magnifying light from above entranced Lorence as he stood outside the balcony door, his eyes reflected the unspeakably stunning gig in the sky. A white light suddenly appearing in a nearby house broke the spell causing Lorence to rub his eyes dry and set the telescope down. He fiddled with it for a moment before peering through the fogged eyepiece. Navigating the instrument towards the window of the lit red-brick house, he spotted a white-haired lady comfortably lounging on the patio, fitted with a smile. Lorence then knew his mission wasn't yet over.

The friendly aged face grinned at the boy from her solitude, as she looked to the heavens, basking in the glory of Orion’s Belt as it wrapped around the sky like a bandage on a wound. She squinted, adjusting her eyes to the pits of black between the pearls of the night, and the eternal unease they brought on – the emptiness of her home a reminder of her perpetual loneliness. She dealt with these lingering thoughts through rhythmically snapping her fingers to some imagined tune in her head, her favourite at the time was Bobby McFerrin's 'Don't Worry Be Happy', which was always bound to inspire glee.

With a large yawn, Lorence darted his eyes around the woman’s house, observing the unkempt lawn resulting in excess shrubbery, the flickering lights almost mirroring her compulsive clicks and the unusually shaded mould growing on the side of her house like a festering wound. The lady, still smiling, still clicking, raised her left hand and signalled to the boy to join her in her stargazing. Getting to his feet, Lorence slung the telescope over his shoulder as he quietly navigated the dim hallway and tiptoed downstairs one step at a time.

Now outside, Lorence raised his hand to lock the door behind him, clumsily dropping the keys on the porch decking and freezing him in place. Realising the house remained asleep, he collected the keys and continued his mission.  As he approached the neighbour’s house, he followed the sound of the rhythmic clicking. Peering over the side gate, he saw the woman, still staring at the stars.

“There’s a better view from here!” She proclaimed, without turning towards him.
Lorence fiddled with the latch on the gate and moved to stand beside her.
“I didn’t realize I had a fellow stargazer living so close,” she grinned, with her eyes still to the skies.
“My dad bought me a telescope for my birthday last year. I try to use it every night, but he doesn't let me stay up late.”

Lorence, noticing the woman’s unbroken gaze, mirrored her as he looked up. The pair now stood, entranced by the astronomical splendour above them. For the first time in a long time, having someone to share in her love of the skies, the old woman shed a tear.  

The boy glanced and noticed the reflection of the bright display on the woman’s cheek.

In their moment of pure bliss, taking in the wonders above them, the world around them stood still, until a loud noise penetrated the moment, startling Lorence.

“Did you hear that?” His attention diverted from the sky.

Before she could respond, the noise intensified until it became deafening. The once picturesque sky lit up to a blinding white. And darkness followed.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
New, as a thing under the sun, may not be, if
you know
beyond any shadow of doubt
WAIT}{ Wraith, tell no lie, I adjure thee

Human… made of fertile dirt, humus, clay,  right
or did this thing i thing you may
bean be, may be an AI virus
human concept formed from,
highest dust of the desert
by fortuitous concurrence of events,
after ever begins or began
like a big bang and all kinds of unbelive- oh, that e, escape believe me,
just once, you come this far,
you never ring that ****** alarm again and shame,
a thing of the past, and we don't fish that hole.
Push on, pursuit of happiness is a right, not a privilege,

I inherent have, as a given, an intu ifity? An information messenger
from all who survived before now, this now, the right now?
I am, I think
A meme that makes me know,
from dust I came,
to dust I go, or is it some idea everybody knows

this me, the thinking me, I dust, become dust, damthatkansasong,
in the wind we then inherit
a means of propagation. Idea viruses evolve from invented
necessities formed into memes,

like on Facebook yes, yes and in Animal Farm where the egalitary
evolved an elite corps of the finest minds

and they formed a cadre of guards, to guard the riches caused by
the blessing of god.
A necessity for coping with --
op [option: change the course of history, portunity, or

step by step as an upright walking being humanoid, but not dirt.
aragon level refusal to mix with lesser, looser fields of
gaseous matter dust,

the un breakable thing at the point, until the Alamogordo,
fat cottonwood song was danced
in silence, and we saw

we make peace, where there is no peace,
do we lie,
can you wrestle with a message formed in media no scribe
could realize,
nor resist imagining if touched with the sting of this
what if, what if
god did adopt useless dirt beings and enoblize them above
all aaaa acc use
me. What if you got it? The itch, the kurio bite, the feel of a snaky lick?
In confectionary affection for special effects, I nod to the pines for their
shushing of whatever brings you pain that you wish would cease to exist.
Peyton Sparks May 2020
Her eyes blossom like a fresh pink bud in the sweet spring

She slinks from her casket like a black cat becoming resident of the shadows

Her fangs emerge gleaming like white sand belonging to paradise

She is ready to feed
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