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Perfect.
I was not
insecure, fragile, forgotten.
They said I was
confident, kind, happy.
I was not
my mistakes, my shortcomings.
They'd never forgive
the people who hurt me.
They were my friends.
........................................................­................

They were my friends,
the people who hurt me.
They'd never forgive
my mistakes, my shortcomings.
I was not
confident, kind, happy.
They said I was
insecure, fragile, forgotten.
I was not
perfect.
 Mar 2016 Taylor Shelton
G
She stared at the six little pills in her hand

one to be skinny
one to be pretty
one to be smart
one to be funny
one to be happy
one to be perfect.

She took them one by one,
feeling them slip down her throat.

at last, she finally felt
skinny
pretty
smart
funny
happy
perfect.

little did she know,
none of these things mattered anymore
for these things she once wanted
now were the things that killed her.
i am strong.
i clutch my ribs on certain nights
because i might split open -
i might even spill.
my fingers stay tight
to keep me stitched.

i am weak.
i seal my tears in a jar,
let it sour and congeal.
i take my success
hard.
i love
unruly
 Feb 2016 Taylor Shelton
ryn
Jolt
 Feb 2016 Taylor Shelton
ryn
.
  •  they say light-
ning never stri-  
kes •  twice in       
the very same          
place•not as              
if it chooses                  
the  person                      
it likes•nor                          
has it targ-                              
   eted a familiar face • growing  
accustomed to these repeated  
                    jolts•i stay fro-
               zen in anticip-
           tion•for subs-
       equent influx
     of volts•is th-
 is love or me-
re petty infa-    
tuation?•ca-        
       n't believe my luck • be-
       cause  time...  and again,  
                    inevitably•i
               stand here,
            apparently
        struck•e-
   very  ti-
me you
cast a...    
a gla-        
nce               
at                   
•                      

ME•                            ­  
.
Concrete Poem 7 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.
Its happening again.
This suffocation
I can't breath.

I need help,
I'm drowning in a sea of depression,
and I can't save myself this time.
I've already given up.

Maybe you should just give up on me,
I'm already a lost cause.
I'm worthless.
Useless

Everyone has a talent in this world,
or so they say.
I must be good at nothing,
because I have no talents.

Jealousy is knocking at my door,
I wish I could do half of the things you could,
but I can't.
I'll never be as gifted,
talented,
smart,
or kind as you are.

When I'm gone, everyone will be sad.
For a couple days, at max.
Then, they'll move on,
they'll for forget about me.
So will you.
That's just the circle of life.
Depression is a constant cycle,
once you think you've escaped,
it drags you back,
so it can torture you even longer.

from all of the demons i am fightin'
i myself am the biggest one of them
'cause out of all of those trials sent by Him
none of them as bein' as frightenin'

that choice be upon me where to headin'
tho roads are made able by only Him
onto which desire shall i chase a whim
when knowin' does make life more uplightenin'

forever condemned by my strides within
knowin' myself needin' to be workin'
for when i shall change my mind of thinkin'
owin' none but positive vibes all-in

'cause yes indeed, my own devil am i
but not when changin' visions of my eyes

*
..love always...



عرفان بن يوسف © AH 23/04/1437

'a (pentameter) Sonnet'
A little life,
A little death
Un petite mort
Takes my breath
Un peu de vie,
Volé souffle
Et donnez moi
Release
Merci, maintenant
Je m'aime
My first shot at french english poetry (: ('un petite mort ' is little death which basically means ****** in French )
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