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Javaria Waseem Oct 2014
They told me it's a cruel place.
I should keep my voices down.
They trapped me in this cage
Asked me to not flap my wings around.
Suffocated, I began to bleed
My words out on paper
Which now the world reads.


*You can never imprison a writer.
Dhaye Margaux Oct 2014
You are free to read
Free to feel
Free to analyze
Free to unseal

You have the right
To hear through your mind's eye
But you have no right
To judge and criticize

Yes, we are writers
We are poets
We are here to express
We are not puppets

For I am a writer
And I want to show
Every kind of story
That one must need to know

When I say "I"
It wouldn't always means "me"
It could be someone
Can't you hear and see?

I am just me
See it with your mind's eye
A writer that is free
Unless you woudn't try...
Always feel free...
Javaria Waseem Oct 2014
If you think I regret losing you,
I ask you to think again.

You are the one left with bad memories
Whereas I have a new story to tell.
Visionary2020 Oct 2014
Troubled writer meets troubled athlete
That was our story right?
Not anymore, you were done putting up a fight
A fight for me that is
For what was mine is no longer his
I gave you all I had to give
You gave me a reason to live
I accepted myself with you
I found myself with you and knew what to do
Finally I felt like I belong
You made me strong
Our love was like an 80's pop song
When you left so did I
I left myself to defy
Lost myself again hoping to find my way
I pushed myself further away
More lost than when we first began
You are not the same man
I let the white noise in
None of the noise was him
The light in my world went dim
I am no longer a fighter
Just a troubled *writer
skyblueandblack Oct 2014
a writer writes,
to ameliorate the pain
be it holy or profane
be it balanced or insane
with affection or disdain

Every word written wipes away a tear
every line, refuge from fear
a sort of self medication
a self reparation
a hopeful initiation
from a hopeless situation

every couplet,
a bleeding wound healed
every stanza,
a memory sealed

a writer writes,
to begin again
to leave behind the pain
a release from a binding chain
and that familiar refrain
in vain..

and so the writer writes..
Again..
    and Again..
I did not turn out to
Be who most expected me to,
But before I burn out this I confess to you.

I hold on to what is out of reach,
I sing lyrics that others wouldn't sing.
I dwell on my faults,
I procrastinate importance.

I laugh at stupidity, even at myself.
I rarely grin in pictures,
I'm comfortable in the dark.

I've talked while dreaming.
If I can help anyone with anything
I do my best to.
I can't forget what I don't want to remember.

I write to show you the me you've never been exposed to,
I write, because i know no other way.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 12/8/10
Revised 9/23/14)
Silence Screamz Sep 2014
Don't kick off me this writer's high,
Take my pen, will  make me cry.

The paper's my quilt, where I write my muse,
Warming all souls which have taken their views

So let the ink dry, straight from quarry.
This writer gets high by telling his story.
Jahanvi Goyal Sep 2014
A moment where I know yet unaware;
A moment where I'm complete yet missing;
A moment where I'm strong yet scared;
A moment where I believe yet doubtful;
In this moment, I am and I am not.
In this moment, I...
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