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M e l l o Jun 12
don't let doubt chain you
spread your wings and fly
though your knees quiver
take a leap of faith
feel the fear and do it
don't let this world
decide your fate
HANI May 30
there are a lot of stories happened
in wednesdays.
i met you for the first time
in wednesday.
we become close
because of wednesday.

since then,
wednesday's became my favorite day.
in wednesday,
i see your laugh.
in wednesday,
i laugh because of you.
in wednesday,
we talk much.
but also in wednesday,
we met for the last time.
this is my very first poetry after a lot of modification. so, i had a crush back then in high school and this poetry is dedicated for him no matter he sees it or not.
Laura Mar 27
I thought
I was
coming around
to the idea
of being alone
Because during the day
it's easy
to be so alone
It's not until
the night falls
that I realize
I need an inhaler
But the pharmacy
is closed
and I'm
all alone
in my mind
Which is a
dark, scary place

I was fine
I wasn't
and by then
I was alone
so nobody's here
to notice
I'm not fine
to notice
how alone I am
Laura Mar 21
He doesn't really love me
None of these guys do
They're just looking
For a quick, hot ****

I'm no different
Than a trip to McDonald's
Fast food
Fast ****
It doesn't have to be good
It just has to be quick
With a short line
Sarah Quinn Mar 20
How? You ask me so.
Well, it does lie between the days
so you have the rest
of the week to go.

Breakups happen on this dreaded day,
when your partner decides you're through.
When you're too hungover to care too much,
for last night you tried something new.

You can lose your job on a Wednesday,
after effort and commute and time.
You can be slapped together with a parking ticket
and forced to pay a fine.

You might lay in bed on this day,
wondering what's left to come.
You might want to hide in your covers
because you know you did something dumb.

I'll be real: I hate Wednesdays.
But why? You ask? I could've sworn...
Ah! Yes. I remember now.
T'was a Wednesday when
I was born.
Juhlhaus Mar 7
Before my doctor's visit Wednesday after work
I smoked two just to see whether I remembered
The taste of ash, mint and tobacco leaf
The stuff of life and death, the bitter and the sweet
Hurrying across the busy street
I looked up to see Mother Mary there
With dark eyes, olive skin, and wind-tossed hair
She seemed tired and a little sad
But her face was kind and she had God on the line
And ash on her brow, which reminded me of the day
I repented and gave the rest of the cigarettes away
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