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I'm not good at this
All my poems kind of ****
Meh, why not just write
Probs the best one I've written so far
Maybe I should even try to both be
the sooner you'll get rid of feedback because they're all
Sometimes I should sing most when my state of mind
Not in a set of cards with yoga pose instructions I'm currently going

I'm tired and beautiful and cute
I'm tired and bored out

...

Oh yeah I need all
People are somewhat murky and shallow in order to show you
WHY DO something
I'm tired of being a ****** person.


...


It's really don't wanna impose anything.... But anybody want
...
I'm tired and conflicted.
Ugh I've been wondering about for ice cream to attempt to message certain people
Uck. It say
...
I really don't know
never thought I'd hate for the person
Sometimes I feel and smell of things to do
That's not an ice is weighing me
It's really painful most of the base of personal information about me, or going

...

But eating shrimp feels weirdly like

...

No, everything is predestined to die from embarrassment and/or maybe guilt. But it's just like
That magical feminist is running the only have you
You have a finger at getting people





...






My staircase is bizarrely comfortable to everything ever


Aluk op oal ilcä aäcij ulrü cujy ulsu wäsyn cujy rincy cyykky cujy ürsäüpyu ipuincy kurky jü siij urir cu lina uij rüyl opam suasäcij kyäc kuläypincy di.
That magical feminist is the stuff
Poetry made from fake facebook statuses generated by what-would-i-say.com. I mean I have thoughts that run exactly like this right before I fall asleep so it's technically written from the soul.
Mar 2015 · 1.1k
Glossophobia
I listen with stapled lips
Waiting
My predator, prey, and companion
I don't know if it's safe to rip the silence out of me
I can't trust myself to move
So I sit as this black and silver storm cloud builds up inside me
Threatening to tear me to shreds if I continue to stay silent
And I stay silent
The words ache at the back of my throat
And I refuse to say them
Better to embrace my sticky metal suicide
Than the predator slash through my flesh and veins
Better to waste away in my lyric starvation
Than let a beast **** me
A metaphoric storyish proseish thingy.
Mar 2015 · 949
Une Vase Brise
You can think of people a vases
Each one is unique
Each holds something special inside...
Or maybe nothing at all

Some are in perfect condition
Some are lightly chipped
While others...
They are smashed on hard tile

Each one has seen the passing of different things
Each has a personality all it's own
But yet...
People tend to like them better when they are matching

The truth dear is
I need your help
In pasting my vase back together...
Just don't try to find or understand it's hidden contents






that will tear me apart
More old poetry. An English translation of a poem written in horrific french when I was in like 8th grade. The English version isn't that great either, lol.
Mar 2015 · 394
Moreover
At a usual first introduction, I say "Hello" and "How do you do?"
It shows people good emotions, like it's all you are able to
Which is fine I guess, but we all know it's a lie
Sit down, maybe, and I'll tell you why
I've said it to myself many times before;
I suppose telling you, won't hurt me any more


"Excuse me, Ma'am or Sir, can I have your attention please? This state of mind I'm living in; It's brought me to my knees
I've stood alone and taken it for way-oh-much-too-long
I don't blame you or anyone else indeed
But how can you just sit there watching while I plead?
In here it's a wild mess, and I'm lonely!"

I pour out my heart
Yet you don't care
I'm covered with the scars
From those who don't play fair
This is another old poem/prose whatever, and it's longer for a change. Yayyyy.
Mar 2015 · 539
Soleil
allez, mon soleil doré
un autre jour est enfin terminé
Another old couplet... en français!
Mar 2015 · 1.4k
Words Unsaid
Sing for me pretty bird of mine
I've cut out my tongue and can't say a word in time
So here's another old piece poetry. Does it even count as a poem? Meh. I like it anyway.
Mar 2015 · 473
Love
I went to the kitchen and asked the magician

"What do you think of love?"

He took his two birds, love birds they be
He swung them around carelessly
Right then and there he broke their necks, sputtering

*"That's what I think of love!"
Okay this is another old one but I do remember I had a lot of fun writing it. Which might seem weird. Idk, I love stories.
Mar 2015 · 388
Remedies
I've sewn my heart together with thread made silver 'lone
The blood that dripped from my lip and deep within my bone
It swept into my mind like a dainty little dancer
But the thread made no sound, and still gives me no answer
Instead silver wrapped around my waist like a metal corset
And dares me not to breathe, so now every breath **I force it
Okay so this is actually one of my favorite pieces of poetry I wrote. It's another old one.
Mar 2015 · 325
You
You
Crashing...

Burning...

Breaking...

Crushing...

Hurting...

Ki­lling...



You say you know me

You say you know my secrets


But
You
Don't


No one knows

Not really


How dare you
You are

Crashing...

Burning...

Breaking...

Crushing...

Hurting..­.

Killing...

...me
ANOTHER old poetry/prose thing.
Mar 2015 · 432
Old Blood, New Blood
I hand to you
All of you
Each of you
A
Restless thing of mine

It's black from fire
From old blood
From scars
This
Restless thing of mine

It's red from passion
From new blood
From love
This
Restless thing of mine

It's cold from loneliness
From healing
From hate
This
Restless thing of mine

It's warm from caring
From pain
From kindness
This
Restless thing of mine

It's whole from friendship
From happiness
From dreams
This
Restless thing of mine

It is broken
From all those things
This restless thing of mine
This broken thing of mine

But I knew
That no matter
No one would want
A
Restless thing of mine
Another old poem. I actually like it, too. Way to go past self!
Mar 2015 · 401
Wondering
What is a story
when there is no meaning?

What is a question
if there is no one willing to answer?

What is a soul
when a spirit is killed?

What is love
if you will be punished for it?

What is this for?
*....you nor I may never know
Old poem is old. Not even poetry really, more like prose-ish.
Mar 2015 · 1.1k
The Fish
There once was a very young fish
Who only had one wish
To swim in a pond
For it would be fond
Not to be served on a dish
I wrote this thing in 5th grade. It shows.
Mar 2015 · 1.3k
Seesaw (Haiku)
Up, down, back and forth
Seems purely unpoetic
What a serene change
Well this is a terrible poem.
Feb 2015 · 640
Empty Dreamland
W a i s t i n g  a w a y in a world of
Hellions bent on the worldly
Extortion of the Beautiful
Rarities, Bewitching their realities and leaving
Exposed Bones and Broken Hearts on a
Dim evening, on the corner of a sidewalk.
Insubstantial, empty Words cause
Discord in Souls whose
Temperament is pure and Kind just to be
Hit in the face by Cruel Monsters.
Earnest faces of
Young Children were once
Glowing and Knowing no pain besides scrapes and papercuts,
Only to be s h a t t e r e d by this Unholy Desolation.
I wrote this less than a week ago. Inspired by a myriad of people and things.

— The End —