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Madam X Nov 2017
Have you ever noticed just how boring your life can be?
I sit here alone with no one to the side of me.
I can't go outside cause the world may start spinning.
I don't mean the way Galileo said in the beginning.

I'm feeling quite helpless and wanting to leave
To experience nature, and all of its trees.
I sit on my roof and look out into space
And think of the things that could make my life great.

Some think I'm dumb and have nothing to ponder,
But my ideas and poems have so much to offer.
I'm scared that my life might not become much
Or when I get old, my friends won't stay in touch.

There's so much to think about and so much to do.
I'm feeling quite lost now
What should I do?
My brain overflowing,
My stomach in knots,
Just How should I handle all of these thoughts?
I write them all down, and I put them in poems,
But it's just not enough to forget or forgo them.
My first poem
Madam X Nov 2017
I'm locked in a room with a desk and a chair.
I want my stomach filled, but the cupboards are bare.
I'm sitting here with only one option:
To continue to write, during this lock in.

Is writing a talent?
I say to myself, as I look over my shoulder at the book on the shelf.
What about Melville, and Shakespeare, and Twain?
The all have much knowledge to send to my brain.

But people these days just don't understand
That we can do more than just sing and dance.
There are so many talents that slide under the rug.
"I wonder what mine is".
I say with a shrug.

But then I remember that I am equipped
With a whole set of skills that are right on my hip.
They rest as a tool belt, and as a reminder
That if I wanted to, I could go farther.
I realize it ends abruptly, but I couldn't find the perfect way to end it.
Madam X Nov 2017
Moon, sweet moon, what have you done?
I look to you from my rooftop.
Your beauty once again has left me stunned.
You promised to no longer eavesdrop.

I speak to you through lustrous glass
By the window in my bedroom.
Waiting for the time to pass,
Breathing in smells of perfume.

So much happens under you,
So many crimes committed.
Though this fact serves to be true,
There's wrongs which can be righted.

Its getting late, the sun is near.
We must say our goodbyes.
Because of you, I shall not fear
You're my friend that's in the sky.
A cute little poem I wrote about my pal the moon
Madam X Nov 2017
Someone is watching. This I know to be true.
They sit there and watch every thing that I do.
The music I play, the books that I read,
the shows that I watch when I turn on TV. The opinions that formulate inside of their head,
is something I fear and something I dread. There isn't just one. They have a whole crew.
Millions and millions, not one or two. People are everywhere and if they are not, there's a mouse or an insect deep in its thoughts.
Staring and watching with its tiny black eyes.
Take one more step and they'll run and they'll hide.
People will watch you and be really mean. They think it's okay bc their thoughts can't be seen.
But really inside, that's the core of all evil. It's starts out small and it grows till its lethal.
Humans will smile and say their kind thoughts,
but walk away for a second and hear their real talk.
Please listen closely, it'll come in disguise. It's hard to dissect all of these lies.
Madam X Nov 2017
I'm that girl who hopes to be taken by the hand
And drifted off to neverland
Leaving my worries behind me
And soaring in the sky, free

I'm that girl who waits for a prince
And a strong true loves kiss
But I don't really need saving
It's only the passion I'm craving

Im that girl who wishes to live in a Disney movie
With nature, songs, and tremendous beauty
But instead I live in a tearful drama
With blackish skies and lasting trauma
Madam X Nov 2017
My life seems to be frozen in time.
Waiting for the sun, but it no longer shines.
Nothing ever changes. It all stays the same.
Searching for the happiness that I want to gain.
Everyone else is moving ahead.
But all I can do is lay here in bed.
People, their lives, their friends, and their luck.
I'm going nowhere. I seem to be stuck. Some tend to think that my life is quite good.
I don't agree, but maybe I should. Plebeian types have to live on the streets. While I sleep at home, tucked away in my sheets.
I shouldn't complain but it's become very hard, To enjoy life's small moments.
I'm internally scarred.
My life isn't bad. It's just somewhat tougher,
than the people I know, that's  because I do suffer.
It was never my purpose to bask in my pity.
I just needed to express my deep pain subsequently.
Please comment titles to help me name this poem. And I believe at some point we all think about how our lives are hard and I always have to remind myself that there is worse
Madam X Nov 2017
My life is like a carousel.
This one I can't get off.
It's beautiful on the outside,
but it never ever stops.
The world is a blur now,
from spinning for years and years.
It's easy for people to say I'm fine,
when they haven't felt my tears.
Your life might be a roller coaster,
going up and down.
That's way more fun than being stuck
Spinning round and round
This is mostly written about my vertigo tbh, but I hope you find meaning in it
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