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  Oct 2017 Iska
Phantom Poet
Poetry,
Started out as a hobby,
Encouraged by family,
Write on topics variety,
Started with topics like,
Sleep,dream,summer,music,my bike,
I realised what gives my poems emotions,
I write about my life,
About love,
About death,
About happiness,
And sadnesses,
Later did I realise,
Poetry,
Went from a hobby,
To a therapy.
  Oct 2017 Iska
Cheyenne
What do you see in me
Do you see a smiling girl?
A smart girl?
A girl who loves to sing?
A girl who always knows how to make you laugh?
Or who knows what your going to say?
A girl you can tell everything to?
A girl who sees the good in the world?
Who sees nature differently?
Who sees purity in the dark?
Someone who knows how to fly?
What if I told you...
I'm the girl who goes on crying for days...
I'm the girl who does school work 6 hours straight,afraid to fail....
I'm the girl who poors out her feelings in song because no one can hear my words...
Who only makes you laugh so she doesn't cry...
Who knows what you will say because she remembers every one of your words afraid they will be your last...
I'm the girl who listens to your problems so she doesn't have to live through hers...
Who sees the good so she can chase away the bad...
Who wishes she could be a bird that way she'd finally be free...
I'm the girl who is the dark so she picks out the purity because she wishes to be that light...
I'm the girl who only knows how to fly because I'm scared to fall...
Do you still see those things in me?
Am I still that never ending joyful person?
  Oct 2017 Iska
Alan JustATG
So this is heaven,
So this is hell,
So this is love,
Who can tell.
This poem and others are available in my ebook The Neverborn. Available from Amazon
The Neverborn https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B076CQNX97/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_FDL5zbYCHG7HY
Iska Oct 2017
And
      In
         That
               Moment
                            She
                                  Was
                          ­              Consumed
                                                       And
                                              There
            ­                           Was
                           Nothing
                  More
                I
      Could
Do
  Oct 2017 Iska
Raiden Crow
I see you.
The real you.
Not the girl who has succumbed.
But the girl who is trying to change what she has become.
I see past the scars and fake smiles and nervous laughter.
And see longing for the life you sought after.
The life outside the broken past.
The life of happiness that will forever last.
You tried to fill it time after time,
But instead bury with choices laced with grime.
You hope the path you walk now will lead you to it.
Though sadly its not true
Not one bit.
The path you walk will bury you more,
So much so your wings will never let you soar.
Trapped in a cage, that you claim to enjoy,
But to be honest love, it feels like its all a ploy.
Not to live, but to simply survive.
And you and i both know, that is no way to thrive.
I can see you.
The real you
The only question now is
Do you?
I wrote this about a specific person. Someone who i care about deeply and see them making the same mistakes that caused so much pain and damage before. However, this work can also be used to describe persons of both genders.
  Oct 2017 Iska
Lily
The girl in the hallway,
You always assume she's alright,
Hides her face in the pillows,
She cries herself to sleep at night;

The boy on the track team,
He just won the team race,
You assume he's obviously happy,
But he wears a fake smile on his face;

You come home to see your sister,
Slipping away to her bedroom,
Doesn't speak a word,
You assume she is tired from the day,
Only little do you know,
Her twelve-year old self downs a hand-full of pills to take the pain away;

Torment surrounds you although you are unaware,
Chaos and rage flood through the streets,
Yet no one speaks up to seek prayer;

Your own family fell to infinite pieces,
When you believed your dad was just asleep;
Not knowing a part of him was sick deep inside,
Every night he went out to get high,
Seeking to escape his real life,
How would you ever know,
All you ever knew were his pretty white lies,
You always pictured him a happy man,
His hurt was exposed shortly after he died;

The world holds many secrets,
Most of which none want to know,
In a world full of lies,
How will you ever hear someone's true cries?
In a world full of lies,
Holds pounds of pain upon pain,
Holding you captive to death with nothing to gain.
In a world full of lies,
Mistrust becomes common,
Yet no ones cares to change the problem

Stuck in this with only ourselves to blame,
Revolving continuously in a world of lies,
People search for death to ease their pain,
No sprout of life comes from living this way

Look around and notice the need,
Silent screams for revival roar with plead,
Learn to extend a hand, or two;
You never know what a little kindness can do.

You could change tear drops to warm hearts,
Then watch deaths transform into new life;
The work of true love restores truth to the world,
For the world full of lies finally has no place to take hold.
Be aware of others and the way the act and live, lives are important and should not taken for granted. This writing is meant to put you in perspective of how even the people you are around every day, struggle to live and keep up with life, even if they hide the pain. Show kindness in every situation, it may be all someone has left to hold onto.
  Oct 2017 Iska
Lindsay
Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.
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