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Blois Dec 2017
I wasn't myself at all, this year.
Or maybe I should say that I was me
as much as I could. Look into my
mental health trough my words.

We foresee ourselves as the resolved version
of an unsolvable mathematical problem.
I see a picture of me, alongside other people,
and feel like I´m a photoshopped image,
which is pretty much how I feel most of the time.

I like to think of it
as a philosophical matter,
nothing else. Psychologists,
refrain from commenting.
Otherwise, I imagine myself
giving you the finger.

I also need to mention
that the new ghost is growing
healthy and laughing, behind
the door where it can jump
on my shoulders the minute
I walk in.

On the bright side, someone said
I´m weird but interesting.
The inflection was on the term "weird".
***** it, I´ll take that any day!
Even if it´s only a small battle
that will not win any war.

The problem with this autobiographical poems
is that I never know how to finish'em
and I sense there´s also meaning in this.
With the above being said, I guess I´m still
the same, and that is ******* frightening.
It is the last day of my year.
Rashed Dec 2017
The way you remove your glasses for a picture is perfection.
hoping the picture you were taking was a distraction.
  Your eyes gave me life, almost like a resurrection.
Yet something was still killing me, my own complexion.
I wanted something, maybe it was your love, or your attention.
I have something to tell you, almost a confession.
I smile like a little boy whenever your name is mentioned.
I still remember that day, and I truly apologize for that bad first impression.
I didn't expect my heart to take me in that direction.
"Was she really worth the pain?" was the real question.
My mind was filled with your images, you became an obsession.
You were the only thing that was not in my possession.
I fell ill and lost sight of the world, becoming a victim of depression.
You cruelly kicked me out of your world, I was devastated.
I stayed in between my sheets, away from the world and isolated.
Watching her with another lad, got my heart frustrated.
Her beautiful orange dress was the reason I was intoxicated.
"How dare he touch her?!" I felt so **** infuriated.
She smiled at me, knowing completely obliterated me from inside.
I was never able to recover from her eyes, as it only illuminated.
Yet she got closer and hugged me as if nothing happened.
She even complimented me and called me handsome,
Why would she do that to my fragile heart? I couldn't fathom.
she lit a fire in my heart and the only thing that won't die for her is my passion...
Love
Hannah Zedaker Nov 2017
Again.
before
Consistency
Drowns
e v e r y
foreshadowing,
Grenades
head
Insistently,
                      ­                                     Juxtaposed
                                                   keenly
                                                               ‘long
                                                      My
                                                           Newest
                                  Oath.
          Petition­s
                     Quickly
                              Reveal
Satire
        Tucked
                 Under
V    a     c   a   n     t,
Withered,
     Xysts.
                             {Youthful
                                       Zeal.}
TheRiverStyx Nov 2017
Did you hear it on the news?
Cancer is *******.
They took it up to the supreme court and now my friend in the hospital bed ain't feeling blue.
His bail is a million.
Some rich Jewish dude wearing maroon is going to spare Cancer from the noose.
All the synagogues smell.
Like ember.
Everyone is saying that they're gonna go to hell.
Alexander Nov 2017
It’s there,
Where water meets fire,
Where lightings strikes the ground.
That’s where my heartbeat goes.

My chest feels like it was filled
With tampered strings.
Once so sharp and precise,
Now dull and inconsistent.

Mother always asks where my love is.
I tell her it hasn’t moved in years.
Her dumbfound look
Meets my half smile.

How do I lie to a broken mirror?
Where even my reflection is fake.
How do I mute the cannon fire,
Deep within my chest?
DaSH the Hopeful Nov 2017
I had a dream in the middle of the day
          About a boy with springs where his legs should have been
        He jumped so high he got tangled in barbwire clouds
             And it rained blood and viscera for a month
Crandall Branch Nov 2017
The warm moisture dripping from my hand
Sweat forming from the intense heat
The California air warming the animal flesh
Searing my skin

The burning of both the heat and the energy spent
On wasteless efforts
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