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Caela Bayfield Sep 2017
I ran into a ghost today
And by ghost, I mean a person from my past
And by person from my past, I mean an old friend, who I really used to care about.
And by ran into I mean we passed each other in the hallway,
we looked up then looked away then looked back one more time, realizing at this point we couldn’t pretend we didn’t see each other.

He was so kind and he was so gentle
and I was so scared, I tried to run away
yet at the same time all I wanted in that moment was to stay and talk to him.  
We hardly said five words,
then he pretended to be meeting a friend
and I pretended I was late for class,
though in actuality my class didn’t start for forty-five more minutes.
I ran down the hall and sat in the corner alone, hating myself for not being able to ask one simple question.
“how are you?”
“how’s your family?”
“Are you happy?”
Cause all I ever wanted was for you to be happy.
I know it didn’t seem that way
But I was selfish, and you were young and I was young.
And then the anxiety came on and my chest started to hurt and the feeling reminded me of why I don’t make friends anymore.

Then the teacher showed up and asked me if I was okay.
And the pounding turned to aching,
that simmered into a dull pain.
I smiled and said yes.
He said that I wore my emotions on my face.
And I laughed and said thank you.

Then I went on with my day.
But the aching Is still there,
It will probably never leave.
zebra Nov 2018
Oh the virgins ravenous vault
college girl ******
a seething abashment
with mixed loyalties
who belongs to no one
ferocious for annihilation
*** blast
poured out from essence
spread shanks
wet spot
hot shots
meditative and gleaming

huge hearted
she is one and many
choking on desire
far flung in Turkish bath fantasies
a singing **** tearing heaps of suns
like burns and spatters
her ***, a high pitched note
his ****, rage at bay
poised hot **** ****
gasping fire

*** criminal's

foot kissing
****** biters
Sylvia Plath was referred to as "The Smith College ******" in some biographical material. I love her poetry, like incredibly, and so by the proxy of her literature I remain very much in love with her both as a writer and as a woman, albeit a vivid fantasy. That love remains amplified by her suicide as I find myself still aching about her now, 50 years after her death. I remain continually mesmerized by the appalling dread, yet sensuality of her draped corpse hanging out of the oven. Her dead body is an ineffable poem of grace in form and shuddering despair. I always want to rescue her.... It gnaws! This poem is prompted by Sylvia Plath, a Goddess of modern language, her youthful passions, and inconsolable despair.
Lizzy Oct 2015
i've tricked them once again
i made them believe that everything was fine.
******* I'm good,
even after all this time.

i'm too good at lying at lying to myself,
I'm too good at pushing away the pain.
and even tricking myself
into believing I'm okay.

you're telling me to breathe
but my throat keeps closing.
you tell me to sleep,
but every night is darkness without dreams.

how am i supposed to write,
without spilling blood on the page.
but this is my job now,
and i need a decent grade.

like forcing a bird to sing for food,
you're wringing me out.
my mind dripping to the floor,
i can't create beautiful things anymore.

i'm writing everything over again.
repeating
repeating
repeating myself.

what do you want me to say?
that everything will be okay?
you want me to make my own light,
give myself a nicholas sparks ending.  

because now I'm exposed,
I'm standing in front of you all.
and you can practically see the blood
dripping down my wrists.

with the world standing behind me,
its hard to keep my focus.
"make it pretty" she says,
"don't let them see you're already dead."

i can't turn tears to holy water,
or my own blood into wine.
i can't create beauty,
staring Darkness in the eyes.
Naveen Tiwari Mar 21
She's better than the rest. One of the best.
She is smart. VERY SMART!!
Her laughter is pure, like of a small kid.
She makes a strange face when studying like burden of whole world is on her shoulders.
She sings,she plays,
she does dancing , she does everything.
She's a great friend.
All these things make her better than the rest
but what makes her unique?
It is that penguin walk of her when she is walking back from college but her hands stay still.
It's her revenge plotting looks when she is trying to concentrate and look into microscope.
It's her meeky voice in front of teachers which usually bursts on random occasions.
She would talk to you like she's an old friend.
Everyone likes her.
She just wants to be a firefly but she is indeed the sun.
A girl in my class.
L B Aug 2017
I’ve seen genius so fixed on itself
as to be monkeys, squealing
wicked-itchy
watching a record whirl
in the same drugged circle
33 and a 1/3—circa 1969

This—their eternal brilliant conclusion
their e=mc2
This—their Final Solution
their inner-spring
Their convoluted complexity
as the hands of their clocks
fly off, striking me in the face

Alas!
—the equation that would solve
the mystery of whistling “Dixie”
that would feed the dogs
and “seize the day”!

This penetrated groove
This—track, eternally diminishing
toward a point on a label
at which two ***** intersect

and then...
...cease to be....
Drugs and is the Revolution really worth it?
Samuel Hoffmann Mar 2018
From my perspective the world is flat
because I've never been to space,
and love seems like a stupid idea
having only ever kissed my mom's face.

A college degree just seems wasteful,
but I don’t have one yet.
And coffee seems so distasteful,
but that's true, don't fret.

My world doesn't have unicorns
or cotton candy clouds.
Extremely fantasized love movies
plague young teenage crowds.

I know I sometimes seem all together,
please trust me when I say thats not true.
I take a shower, brush my teeth,
And go to bed broken and blue.

I know I might seem stoic,
and yes, most times, that's true.
But honestly, I do love many things,
one of which is you.
pk tunuri Mar 2018
Spa D is on fire
Administration is a liar
Student body has a desire
Let's fulfill our needs before we expire

You think your threats can stop us
I'm sure we didn't want to make a fuss

What makes you be at a nonplus
Let us know when you are ready to discuss

For how long will you bluff?
Don't you think it's enough?

We've suffered enough over the years
We have overcome all our fears

Don't light up the fire with our tears
You better stop playing with our careers

All that we ask for is some trust
But you left us all in utter disgust

Spa D is on fire
Administration is a liar
Student body has a desire
Let's fulfill our needs before we expire
A poem on COLLEGE STRIKE
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