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Dipper 5d
We put people into boxes.
One look at an appearance,
One shake of the hand,

One sentence spoken tells us all we need to know.
When we're proven wrong we cower when we should grow.
Instead of learning, we call one person different and shun the rest,
everyone else like them put into another box where we never test.
Test ourselves if this is wrong, or just a trait that helps us survive.
Because assumptions based on stereotypes are surely the way to thrive.
Everyone has different boxes, and everyone thinks they're right.
We'll tell ourselves anything to help us sleep at night.

The problem lies not with the boxes themselves, (though make no mistake they're not exempt from blame),
The problem is what we do with these cages, and how they're used to inflict pain.
People who don't agree are deemed to be hostile, and thrown in another shed.
We need to talk, find some common ground, be able to disagree without blood being bled.
Dipper Nov 17
Well I wrote you last night in
a text that made no sense
it's the morning and you still haven't replied

I'm overthinking and staring
at this mess, trying
to stop and set my beating heart aside

Vague recollections return
to my foggy brain
as I figure out which part of me had died

Another weekend finds it's way
inside my dark and dreary haze
as I realize how much all of us had lied

It's too late to come over
too soon for me to call
i'm sitting here recording myself
in this ***** bathroom stall

and some graffiti on the wall
says don't worry kid at all
whenever you have time to fall
then it's time for you to stall
this deadbeat, lonely, conversation
this teasing, deadly, conversation

And I considered for a second
but I swear only for a second
I had more important things to do today

I skipped out on a party and a
lunch date with a friend
so I could think of all the ****** things to say

When you finally text me and I
tell you all about
how the awful night was really just okay

And how it would be nice
if you wanted to hang tonight
and maybe you would choose to stay
maybe you would stay
Dipper Nov 10
Feelings frustrate me.
When I have them, I'm sad.
When they leave me, I'm numb.
Most of the time, I hover just between the two,
in sight of my sadness but just far enough away
to feel nothing.

I stare at the guitar resting on my thigh,
hating the way my legs look and the stupid clothes I wear.
I wonder why the more I play and the harder I strum
the worse my hands feel the next day.

I don't want to succumb to a miserable existence.
I'm feeling less and less sad and more anxious.
It's a storm twisting and roaring in the darkest pit of my stomach
and leeching the life out of my brain and my thoughts are
so loud.

I can't feel love towards anybody who doesn't exist in my imagination and sigh when another friendship falls into the abyss of neglect.
My identity laughs as I stumble around this dark maze,
growing sick of this pointless game of hide and seek and cursing myself for running the batteries out of my dim flashlight.

Sometimes it's bearable.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and my scars don't burn, and my brain isn't screaming in my ear.
Sometimes the music I play sounds better, and sometimes the friends I talk to understand when I need my space and when I need to be loved.

Sometimes, I'm able to sigh in the crisp autumn breeze and feel comfortable in my own skin without having to write down my feelings in meaningless free-verse.
Dipper Nov 3
I wrote some words in a battered notebook,
the ink bled through the paper and stained the covers.
I tried again with pencil and overlooked
the ink that was bleeding out of the pages.

The ink poured into a puddle around my feet,
I scooped in a glass and took shots with my friends,
hoping to gain the knowledge through deceit
of drinking up the thoughts I had long forsaken

The black elixir burned my throat
as the glass quickly emptied
a desperate attempt to gain what I wrote
as the glass shattered around my feet.
Dipper Nov 2
I've been called many things.


A homophobic slur from my neighbor,
A "fine young man" from my parents,
A disappointment from myself,
"Ashley" for a time, because I asked my friends,
and "messed up" from those who overheard,
"Smart and brave" from my therapist,
and "a sin" from those sermons I watch sometimes.
The thing that scares me most,
is that my name means nothing to me.
It's just another thing I'm called.
Dipper Oct 23
Large and small
Silent and lonely
Still and antagonizing
Only if only
I took a hammer
To tear down the wall
Found it took more
Than a hammer to fall
The mighty divider
The conqueror of lives
The god who determined
Who lives and who dies
So it wouldn’t budge
No it wouldn’t break
Not until the earth
Decided to shake.
Dipper Oct 17
Another idea flitting by
Going of to soar in the sky
Leaving in my creativity
Another dead ideology
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