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eva 3d
The children branded Gifted at the ripe age of eight,
Will grow up carrying the crippling weight
Of an expectation stamped on them before they had thought
Of who they wanted to be, who they were and were not
So when the brain reaches limit of what they're capable of
They will think they’ve destroyed all that was worthy of love
And hide from the sharp gaze of Expection’s eyes
Would rather cease than hear the collective parent’s sighs
The Gifted children will never meet authority’s plans
And instead struggle in silence, head in their hands
Believing the sermon that their knowledge is essential
When they crash, they all say, “She had so much potential.”
TyeniWrites May 4
Lived each day thinking I had it
Wasted it when I had it
Now I'm regretting because I m running out of it
Time,they warned me about her
But I didn't listen
Thought I had more of her
But she waits for no one
The clock keeps ticking
Jay M Apr 28
They want to give you things
They want to waste time and effort all on you
And all for what?
Temporary enjoyment,
Lasting anywhere from a few minutes
To a few years
Even so -
It's so unnecessary, even wasteful
Of what they work for
What they could use to support themselves
Yet they waste it upon such things
For another
To see them smile
At least every once in a while.

- Jay M
April 28th, 2020
My mom asked me today what I wanted for my birthday. The problem is, I only want to see the people I care about and those that care about me, or maybe to go on a long walk. If not that then maybe camp out in the backyard, or board games with my siblings and parents for a couple of hours, or even just do some karaoke in the living room with my siblings and parents. Just not gifts - it feels like such a waste, because the person giving it to me could have used that money for food for themselves, or clothes, or house projects. But on me? It just seems like such a waste, and I just get this knot in my stomach when I think about it - it just seems wrong, because they had to use their time and effort to earn that money and they just use it on me.

Is it strange to feel this way about such a strange thing? Maybe I'll never know - but in the meantime, I'm hoping I'll just get nothing but kind words and wishes from people instead. ♡
Perhaps You Apr 17
I often waste
Too many breaths
On the run
of a sentence
Just to fill the
empty spaces.
LewisVC Apr 16
Reflecting on the choices I've made.
Wishing for better days.

Why did I invest such love and energy.
Friends tried to ward me away.

They knew it was the case.
Some people can't be saved.
I gave a piece of myself to try and save her.
Of Civilization and Disenchantment
by Michael R. Burch

Suddenly uncomfortable
to stay at my grandfather's house ―
actually his third new wife's,
in her daughter's bedroom
― one interminable summer
with nothing to do,
all the meals served cold,
even beans and peas...

Lacking the words to describe
ah! , those pearl-luminous estuaries ―
strange omens, incoherent nights.

Seeing the flares of the river barges
illuminating Memphis,
city of bluffs and dying splendors.

Drifting toward Alexandria,
Pharos, Rhakotis, Djoser's fertile delta,
lands at the beginning of a new time and "civilization."

Leaving behind sixty miles of unbroken cemetery,
Alexander's corpse floating seaward,
bobbing, milkwhite, in a jar of honey.

Memphis shall be waste and desolate,
without an inhabitant.
Or so the people dreamed, in chains.

Published by The Centrifugal Eye and The Centrifugal Eye Fifth Anniversary Anthology. Keywords/Tags: Memphis, river, barges, bluffs, Alexandria, Pharos, Rhakotis, Djoser, Alexander, waste, desolate
What is love
other than happy timewasting?
CGW Mar 25
Seldom are the streets quiet
The children age by the window light
Outside it is spring

March brings the turning of the cold
The adults fester and rot, feeding themselves to their resting places

Wicked things brew far and wide
Sizzling and spewing like acid dissolving bone and flesh

The morning moon glimmering
Time has burned itself to the wax
Everyone is meandering their minds
Searching for a smooth door handle to grasp

There are doors but none to open
There are windows but none to peer out of
There are cars but no one to steer them
This is the apocalypse
Bea Mar 25
Ah DND, the wondrous world of fiction
While that may be nice for you
My favorite DND is do not disturb
That way when I don't get a response, it doesn't hurt as much

I haven't published in so long
I haven't texted in so long
I haven't been
I haven't done

Do not disturb
Mute everything
No one responds anyhow
Or reaches out

Well, of course when they need something
I was about to send you a song
And while I may not have self worth
I know you WONT be worth my time, or anyone else's

So I wrote this instead
And Alyssa if you're reading this


You aren't reading this
You aren't doing anything you want to
Other than make me hate you
So it " hurts less "

What a mess
With no one to clean it up

Who in the hell is moving our game pieces
We need someone new

I need someone that isn't you.

P.S. This wasn't right
You pierce me.
You put me in the dark,
I can't move, and you take me and you pierce my flesh,
For your own beneift.

You use me.
You bleed me dry,
Wiping my blood onto your pages,
For a memento.

You discard me.
You tear me out, and toss me aside,
Ready for the next of us,
All for your goodness.

Ultimately, do we really mean so little?
You try and try, but you can't be rid of us, not really.
We're still here, our legacy, our "mementos",
And our shells, our plastic, blue shells.
This one's about my ink cartridges getting angry, because why not?
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