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"durring" poems
My friends a pizza cowboy My uncles a interpreter For the grainery My cousin lives inside Dry mouths and my mother Makes fake smiles my other cousin sticks his pruned up Hands in rivers of unwanted pasta My father makes sure Boats do not go gently Against the stolen tides. I think of the underdogs Whenever were all together We sit on the same green couches Durring the holidays. The same ones that tell us No matter what happens Were going to be ok.  We sink And recline in the coushins And forget about Nine to five for a few honest hours.   While we drink and eat and lauph Underneath the same old popcorn celings. The same living room Where every thing happening now never went unoticed because Ireland found England after The bombs after the soccer game Where she said (after the game) "I want nothing to do with that ******* Are you sure about that grandma. Better stay away from uncle george (the keeper) He wants you to meet his friend (the forward) Who played for the Blackburn rovers.
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Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
family background
Your love is unique, Your love is pure. Your love gives me strength, Your love enables me to endure. Your love guides me through the darkness, Your love gives cure to doubt. Your love is never ending, Your love is what life is about. Your love I can see, Your love Lord is the light, Your love keeps me durring the day, Your love gives me rest at night.
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Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
Your Love
The carpet was red, sloppy joe red. Not like ****** noses or baseball blister red. But reder then the lava from vesiveus and Reder then two out of three pigs crying wolf. Redder then Mr kansees face durring ralphs ****** question in *** ed. Reder then four square. But not as red as the moment we hugged our kids and told them we had to leave.
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
First day of school (looking back 1995)
Most poets, as far as i've seen, seem to battle with depression... why is that? Well, I can't ask that about myself, because I already know why I'm like this. To think... It all started in the 5th grade... That feels like ages ago now. One of the last days of the year, Everyone was watching Robots, or enjoying free reign of the playground. I was one of the movie-goers, Happily munching away at a little bag popcorn Durring "intermission" aka, a bathroom break, A teacher asked me if I could help her out with something. Little kids are so **** nieve... I followed her into the library like a little puppy. In the library was a group of my friends. (for the sake of annonamysy, I won't name them) I was told to sit at the little round table next to the teacher, not suspecting a thing. She started off by asking us if we had ever heard "sticks and bricks may break my bones, but words, they cannot hurt me," Most of us hadn't at that time. I was still smiling then. She explained that the saying is not true, and that words do hurt. The reason I was brought there Was that I'd said I felt smart, After gettting an A on an assignment. Apparently my 'friends' were offened by that. The teacher told me to think about others before saying "something like that" again. My eyes started watering. My lip was set to a quiver. I returned to the movie room, intermission was long since over, The movie was started without me. I moved my little chair, to the back of the room. Lights off, curtains closed... I learned to be glad for the darkness. It hid my tears. The laughter of the children covered the sounds of my sobs. That was when I taught myself how to cry quietly.
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
Origins of Depression
Most poets, as far as i've seen, seem to battle with depression... why is that? Well, I can't ask that about myself, because I already know why I'm like this. To think... It all started in the 5th grade... That feels like ages ago now. One of the last days of the year, Everyone was watching Robots, or enjoying free reign of the playground. I was one of the movie-goers, Happily munching away at a little bag popcorn Durring "intermission" aka, a bathroom break, A teacher asked me if I could help her out with something. Little kids are so **** nieve... I followed her into the library like a little puppy. In the library was a group of my friends. (for the sake of annonamysy, I won't name them) I was told to sit at the little round table next to the teacher, not suspecting a thing. She started off by asking us if we had ever heard "sticks and bricks may break my bones, but words, they cannot hurt me," Most of us hadn't at that time. I was still smiling then. She explained that the saying is not true, and that words do hurt. The reason I was brought there Was that I'd said I felt smart, After gettting an A on an assignment. Apparently my 'friends' were offened by that. The teacher told me to think about others before saying "something like that" again. My eyes started watering. My lip was set to a quiver. I returned to the movie room, intermission was long since over, The movie was started without me. I moved my little chair, to the back of the room. Lights off, curtains closed... I learned to be glad for the darkness. It hid my tears. The laughter of the children covered the sounds of my sobs. That was when I taught myself how to cry quietly.
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46
For quite some time now My life has been Centered On One thing. A girl. A girl that has made me laugh, smile, think, and cry. I laughed as she humored me I smiled as we shared our similarities I thought as she opened my eyes with her strong words. And I cried when she said it all meant nothing to her. But maybe she lied. Maybe she still listens to the Zeppelin Cds I gave her for Christmas. Maybe she thinks about me durring Led Zeppelin 1. Maybe then she understands what she put me through. But I still wonder How many more times she'll do the same thing again.
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Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
Center of Attention
. often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing   nodding into conversation  and durring out                                            like a tiny failing electric fan   struggling to appear present and take part    then whirring   into a congested cumulus   a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee she dribbles her features into her colourful lap her words become a slury chum of incoherence (she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether) i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature) the opposing to what may seem                                                                  this fella supports my depressions feature being and monitor's my decline fleshed out to drain me                                                                 whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                                                      and rot in the anxious conglomeration a distracted reality from reality already conquered                          flagged and declared ;     the phony thing that's real
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Oct 22, 2024
Oct 22, 2024 at 10:31 PM UTC
results of sleep deprivation
. often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing   nodding into conversation  and durring out                                            like a tiny failing electric fan   struggling to appear present and take part    then whirring   into a congested cumulus   a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee she dribbles her features into her colourful lap her words become a slury chum of incoherence (she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether) i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature) the opposing to what may seem                                                                  this fella supports my depressions feature being and monitor's my decline fleshed out to drain me                                                                 whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                                                      and rot in the anxious conglomeration a distracted reality from reality already conquered                          flagged and declared ;     the phony thing that's real
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24
i have that feeling when i feel scarred but i go where i want to but what do i even stand for. what the day dose to you is just hollows you out with that worried sad scared for the person sitting next to you. i d'ont know but i feel like i just want to run. when it starts to rain i feel like i'm free and being washed away from all the weight and regrets for every disions you have made durring the day.. all the scares rips tears that linger all over your body. you can keep your games up but ill never stop feeling worried about you that's the truth i have to say to you. but all your games tourching me making my los my mind. when we fight i dont mean it but when we are finally setteled down i feel that hollow feeling in side me. what all the words i said makes me want toknow if your okay and not any where in danger.
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Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 11:14 PM UTC
the emptiness that feels like holowness