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Colleen Mary May 2015
She wakes up and doesn't recognize herself. Of course she sees herself on the outside in the mirror but doesn't know who this person is anymore. From the time she opens one eye in the morning, anxiety provoking thoughts flood her brain. Where will I be in 3 months from now? What school offers the best personal college experience for me? How will not living in this town actually benefit me? Will I have enough money saved? What happens if I never land a career?  Her thoughts are all over the place as is she. Unsure of what she will do for the day to help distract her, she takes comfort in reading poetry of others. It is through other peoples written word that she remembers it is ok to not have everything figured out yet.
Kale May 2015
I am oblivious,
To you and your feelings,
To your pain
To your anger.
I consider you an insignificance
To the air space
Your presence annoys
My living soul.
You come to question
Who I am?
I am someone who is the
bane of your entire existence.
Annie Nolan May 2015
Me
Long hair
hair that covers my wishfully bony shoulders inconsistently

Inconsistent eyes
eyes that flash here and there, eyes that cover up a part that is unfinished

Unfinished body
body that is easily forgettable

Forgettable laugh
laugh that erupts with annoyance until it goes slow

Slow tongue
tongue that savors and starves and tricks and lies

Lying mind
mind that wants to know minds yet it deceives me; not controllable

Controllable heart
heart that wants to stand strong on something, anything, yet perishes in hibernating

Hibernating sleep
sleep walking through the day, waiting for time to be recycled

Recycled thoughts
thoughts that stick like mud, filling empty cracks and suffocating new birth bitterly

Bitter skin
skin that holds in the creepy crawling stinging

Stinging fear
fear that I cannot and will not be me

Me
Bridget Allyson Mar 2015
I could sing a song
Would they listen?

I realized something today
After months of figuring
Who am I?
I am me.

And who is me?
Someone to warm your cold hand
Someone to protect your battling soul
Someone to bandage your ****** heart
Someone to trust you when you can't
Someone to sing you asleep
I'll tell you a story of a girl I knew
Who couldn't fix herself quite right
Hannah Mar 2015
You know where you are
What you are, when you are
But not really, you feel almost
           Detached

From the world
And all its people
From those closest to you
And those you have yet to meet

You read the words on the page
But not through your own eyes, no
As if you are merely a lonely
Thing floating through time and space

Not living, but breathing
Barely surviving, but existing
You walk, run, fall
But it doesn't feel like you

At all.
Who have I become?
Why didn't you tell me that I was changing?
Do you miss me the way I was before?
Or is this how you've always wanted me to be?
Weak.
Helpless.
Sad.
You're not a part of it.
Doesn't that mean anything?
Remember when I was something?
Something to hold on to.
Not I'm worthless.
To everyone but you.
RH 78 Feb 2015
Who am I
I am neither complete nor the finished article.
I'm a little moody when woken in the night.
I'm not a morning person.
I'm a father
I'm a brother
I'm a son
I'm an uncle
I'm a lover
I'm a companion
I'm a shoulder to cry on
I'm a fault finder
I'm a teacher and guide

I'm just an average man.
ruby stains Jan 2015
i am not a poet.

i do[can]not {will[can]not, is
what i'll do} write about the way the ******* trees bow in the ::deep-bone-ache-inducing:: wind like tranquil hummingbirds on a warm spring morn;"<could if i would>

i do[can]not {absolutely will[can]not, you know?} write about how i feel or how my heart broke or how my heart skipped or stopped or tumbled from my chest;'would if i coul d

i do[can]not {trust me when i say
i do[can]n't, please do} write about the
way i carry my life because i

f/abri..cat e a(n}
d cottonise and wrap my words in carbonated silk and polyest
er because i am no more than two twiddling thumb;s and too many cups of tea.

//subcons
ciously apart of the 98%
and counting, is what i am.
//

::i spit lines at three am and shoot out'a bed with my lips moving with preprocessed words kissing my breath yet i forget more than half of it before i reach the pen and my skin::

[couldn't]i[be]am[even]not[if]a[i]poe,t.[tried]
veidmainystė : hypocrisy in lithuanian I form
Victor Mickeal Jan 2015
She said she just wants the simple life for us.
but gives into the lust of finer things.
You aim to figure me out
but can not solve your own complexities.
Then wonder why I won't let you in?  My skin is too thick from the hard road.
It protects my adamant heart.
I am at compacity with all these **** memories.
Nights where claims of hate turned hard thrusts into a soft body.
Tattoos of teeth marks on my shoulder
Waterfalls pouring down my leg and screams of false love with each warm ****** given against this cold wall.

So you see, the way is shut for you.
You cannot become a thought.
Only a forgotten
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