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This isn't the end
There's more to come
Tragedy, calamity
Just learn to stay numb
Astrum, lux caeleste et clarus
Princeps aetheres et spes
Dux meus in aeternum

Rough translation:
Stars, light celestial and clear
Ruler of skies and hope
Guide me for eternity
Wanted to mix it up and try posting some of my non-english poetry
Soft brown eyes
Shattered like mirrors
Scattered with abandon
What happens when
There are hearts working in tandem
Sharing and loving and growing and
What happens when
One just dies
Without
A
Goodbye
Probably my final poem from my English class.
I've spent hours
Perusing your porcelain
It won't tell me lies
Right?
Wrong.
Staring, paring
My soul into
Shreds of dignity
Refreezing the melted
Puddles of my being
Into a shaky sculpture
Of perfect imperfection
Another English class poem. The assignment was odes, so I chose mirrors. The actual poem was longer but this part is my favorite.
Where I'm from, turbulence is arbitrary and the top layer is a dream
Violence and suicide hidden by pastel pinks and blues
A fragile frosted shell

Where I'm from, dark secrets come from a college in Santa Monica
Where someone drank too much
And no didn't work enough
My dad was in custody of the state 9 months later

Where I'm from, we pride ourselves in Edward Rutledge
Who picked up a pen in 1776
How does a single signature outweigh
A blurred auburn plantation in South Carolina
The sweet scent of fat, and the relatives I'm not allowed to meet
The men under another red, white, and blue flag

Where I'm from, pills are passed out like candy
Anxiety, depression, take your pick
My second cousin, she jumped off a bridge
We don't talk about her

Where I'm from, my cousins are bi-racial
I take pride in myself, and will never fall back
On racism, sexism, words that make my skin crawl
Where I'm from, I'll never stay silent again.
This is a poem I wrote for my English class a while ago. Our prompt was "where I'm from" and every stanza had to start with those words. I am pretty proud of my poem so I decided to post it.
Elizabeth Feb 7
I've heard skin described as porcelain or mirrors
Sometimes scratched, but smooth and unique
Well I guess I was left to be heated too long
I can already see my distortion breaking out
Elizabeth Feb 7
Do you think I enjoy this
Say I lack age to employ this
You do know stress doesn't need a reason, right?
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