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 Nov 2014 Hailey
Just Melz
Resting atop my right arm sleeve
Is where I keep my most valued treasure
This is why, I truly believe,
I feel so much pain instead of pleasure

If I kept it hidden from the worlds view
Maybe, I could find my own happiness
But then it would be kept from you
And I'd know only despair and loneliness

My heart is such a complicated thing
It hurts, it heals, it mends its cracks over time
Unfortunately, I know I'm undeserving
To find a love that could be only mine

I can't help but feel the pain
I can't help but feel this hurt
I know there's something wrong with me
I know I shouldn't lie on the dirt

But as low as I can go
Is where I belong
What do I have to show,
Besides always being wrong?

It's my dreaded nightmare
It's the evil witch's curse
I can't remember getting there
But I know how much it hurts
This is a combination of three poems I wrote last night while feeling really depressed...
 Nov 2014 Hailey
Briana
Why don't people write poetry
when they are happy?
Because you don't need to digest happiness,
you just let it wash over you.

What would happen if, instead,
we digested
happiness through words
and poured struggle and sorrow
onto our heads
so it dripped down our chins
and leaked in our minds
and slid down our shoulders
and backs
and legs
and made a puddle of tears at our feet?

Our books would be filled with joy
that generations could read
for years to come.
And they wouldn't think us a boring lot,
but find smiles
in our words,
and fondness
in our memories.
So the ground would be covered sadness...
it would water the plants,
and strengthen our souls,
and nourish our minds,
and that wouldn't be so bad
would it?

Because when it's all said and done...
you can step out of a puddle.
But if a pen is a sword
and the words are it's ink
I'd much prefer those words
to be loved.
The trolls are funny and have secrets untold
The blood elves well they just get trolled
The taurens are peaceful and kind
The goblins are quite hard to find
The orcs have a mighty roar
The undeads of a thirst for war

These are the Horde we all know and love
The next ones you see beat the ones above

The dwarves are are born to be hunters
The gnomes are sick of the punters
The humans build great cities of gold
The night elf leaders are kind of old
The draenei come from far away
I guess the worgen have to stay

My writing is done and I bid you good day
The end is done I have nothing left to say
 Nov 2014 Hailey
Girl On The Wing
I sit down
I put on headphones
I think about what they meant by "rubber soul"
My soul is not rubber

Rubber repels
Rubber rejects
Nothing sticks to rubber.
Things stick to my soul
People stick to my soul
Ideas stick to my soul
Places stick to my soul
And they change it
They shape it

Maybe my soul is clay
Moldable
Flexible
Soft yet sturdy
Sticky.

Clay
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