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"frustrate" poems
by Arcassin Burnham I promise to take care of you, I promise to have a clean plate, I promise to never forget you, I promise I will never hate, And even when your set to frustrate, You must always never ralate, To others that hate, I promise I'm gonna make you smile, I promise I'm gonna make it right, I promise to stay for a while, I promise I'll get a glimpse in sight, Of the past and how it was, Everything will be alright, A promise is a promise, Thats not always kept, Lied to your founding Fathers, When you tried to establish you wealth, I said, A promise is a promise, Thats not always kept, Lied to your founding Fathers, When you tried to establish you wealth.
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
"A Promise Is A Promise"
I pulled down vicious KKK flyers, listened to members amplify hate. Their harmful words only frustrate, hoping to cease their cruel desires. Harassment at work occurred hablas ingles? a lady replied. I let the racist remark subside, when I realized I was not heard. Being bullied at school would soon follow. A boy shout the Spanish slur at me, write vile notes for all to see. Slashed my tires with archery arrows. I never thought that they would presume, I was an illegal immigrant. Their logic absent, only based on looks they assume.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
small town hate
You were barely dressed. Why? Your clothes between us gave me symptoms of withdrawal from the softness of your skin. You applied lip gloss. Why? To leave an imprint where you pressed your lips, smudging all over my love’s arousal. You slipped on your heels. Why? To make it harder, to frustrate desire to caress your feet with legs around me. You were beautiful. Why? I needed nothing that you were wearing to know I wanted complete nakedness.
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Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
Getting (Un)dressed
I once saw my Brother in a Mirror Begged half-score on a Verse; Now it came True And so it did with my Attitude falter Neglected the Duty I had for you This I wanted Gold. God was indeed Frustrate For the Trailing Ignorance I commit My "I" the Traitour; In me such self-hate For Pop's Face-Memos I saw in Good Bid I was wrong. If the Clock-Father can reverse And mend my Riches to renourish you The Ethyl on your Hair; The Lamp on your Nurse And all Bumps mended on your Friendship true. You are the Technocrat sworn to a Vow That you Love me Un-Conditioned somehow.
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: JAN SANTINO C. MANDREZA
the amount of melanin in my skin often seems to conjure up some controversy so when I sit down to write and I see my hands, my light skinned not quite black but surely not white hands I think about the privileges thrusted upon me and when I begin to write I feel my hair against my back, my curly ***** but not quite ***** hair I wonder how what's on my head could make what's in it so frazzled I often frustrate myself because I feel like my writing often centers around the fact that I am a woman and I am colored and the fact that when I say I'm colored some look lost in fact, in the film, for colored girls Thandie Newton's character says "being alive and being a woman is all I got, but being colored is a metaphysical dilemma I haven't conquered yet." and I found it frightening how relatable that was to me, being that I'm not quite almost a woman and not quite almost colored but when I look at my poems they reflect that I indeed am even though I'm lightskinned and I'm 16 and according to my white friends I'm, just like them because, as I've discovered our definitions of what a black girl sounds like and acts like and is like are extremely different and I guess that reflects on who we've been introduced to I have cousins and aunts and grandmothers and sisters who represent what I believe emulate what a black woman is and these white kids see what the media feeds about how black women walk and talk and act and lack see when I picture a black woman I see beautiful smooth chocolate skin full lips round ******* wide hips and a smile as brilliant as her mind when these kids picture a black woman they see ***** hair dark undesirable skin soup cooler lips and a mind filled with ignorance and this is where my struggle begins But in every ethnic group there is good and bad and I am sick of black women only being associated with the bad the fact that when most non blacks think of what a black woman is, they imagine an unintelligible mindless sassy loud mouth is over whelming to me if you're skin isn't light enough or your behind isn't big enough you're only "pretty for a black girl" I not only want to raise but destroy all expectations society gives black women but I cannot do this alone because we are smart and we are beautiful we are troubled and we are strong and we are one once we stop tearing eachother down we can all be one and I'm not sure why god blessed black women with so much beauty or why I'm so blessed to be one or why he put this determination in me but I think I will recognize it the day the world recognizes how beautiful are we.
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
We are One (For Colored Girls)
the amount of melanin in my skin often seems to conjure up some controversy so when I sit down to write and I see my hands, my light skinned not quite black but surely not white hands I think about the privileges thrusted upon me and when I begin to write I feel my hair against my back, my curly ***** but not quite ***** hair I wonder how what's on my head could make what's in it so frazzled I often frustrate myself because I feel like my writing often centers around the fact that I am a woman and I am colored and the fact that when I say I'm colored some look lost in fact, in the film, for colored girls Thandie Newton's character says "being alive and being a woman is all I got, but being colored is a metaphysical dilemma I haven't conquered yet." and I found it frightening how relatable that was to me, being that I'm not quite almost a woman and not quite almost colored but when I look at my poems they reflect that I indeed am even though I'm lightskinned and I'm 16 and according to my white friends I'm, just like them because, as I've discovered our definitions of what a black girl sounds like and acts like and is like are extremely different and I guess that reflects on who we've been introduced to I have cousins and aunts and grandmothers and sisters who represent what I believe emulate what a black woman is and these white kids see what the media feeds about how black women walk and talk and act and lack see when I picture a black woman I see beautiful smooth chocolate skin full lips round ******* wide hips and a smile as brilliant as her mind when these kids picture a black woman they see ***** hair dark undesirable skin soup cooler lips and a mind filled with ignorance and this is where my struggle begins But in every ethnic group there is good and bad and I am sick of black women only being associated with the bad the fact that when most non blacks think of what a black woman is, they imagine an unintelligible mindless sassy loud mouth is over whelming to me if you're skin isn't light enough or your behind isn't big enough you're only "pretty for a black girl" I not only want to raise but destroy all expectations society gives black women but I cannot do this alone because we are smart and we are beautiful we are troubled and we are strong and we are one once we stop tearing eachother down we can all be one and I'm not sure why god blessed black women with so much beauty or why I'm so blessed to be one or why he put this determination in me but I think I will recognize it the day the world recognizes how beautiful are we.
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26
A coffee shop afternoon can say it looms significant In the steamer’s sweet humidity And the idle legs pace for more I hear the whispers of world-changers and gossip mix Local color of a quiet little town. Sit humble and lean, a fixture ‘till showtime And ask lines around just we’ve they’ve been And who they’ve seen. There’s a poetry in the patron, come My gaze permits and intervenes Its narrative and scheme, in lover’s hand enweaved. Graphite plays its frustrate part the writer Seated far, far in a blissful nadir Bristles in his pony tail like drawers end to no avail.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Coffee Shop Afternoon
I miss the way you used to talk to me. I miss you used to respect me, and my opinion. I miss feeling like we were inseparable. I miss you and I, I miss me. You used to look at me, and I wouldn't see any anger or resentment. I used to not just seem to frustrate you. I feel really alone right now. I just want you to see me how you used to So then maybe I wouldnt be such a stranger to myself. It is really hard, being broken, damaged goods. Ruining everything in your path. I am sorry I am such a burden now. I am sorry I am such a disappointment.
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Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
I am sorry I became such a burden to you
Take heed of loving me; At least remember I forbade it thee; Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste Of breath and blood, upon thy sighs and tears, By being to thee then what to me thou wast; But so great joy our life at once outwears; Then, lest thy love by my death frustrate be, If thou love me, take heed of loving me. Take heed of hating me, Or too much triumph in the victory; Not that I shall be mine own officer, And hate with hate again retaliate; But thou wilt lose the style of conqueror If I, thy conquest, perish by thy hate; Then, lest my being nothing lessen thee, If thou hate me, take heed of hating me. Yet, love and hate me too; So, these extremes shall neither’s office do; Love me, that I may die the gentler way; Hate me, because thy love is too great for me; Or let these two themselves, not me, decay; So shall I live thy stage, not triumph be; Lest thou thy love and hate and me undo, To let me live, O love and hate me too.
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3.7k
The Prohibition
Your eyes smoulder with an imagination that is even bolder than I could have dreamed and colder than this toxic air we've been forced to breathe. You write poetry across your face to form a Gas mask of rythym, blocking out the hate yet sealing in ideas that might frustrate you. You hear the birds in the trees and you read the articles in every magazine, you take in information like the bees to the Queen. Your thoughts radiate an aura surrounding your entire body, you bleed history and pop culture facts, you need the written word like an addict needs their cigarette packs. You're empathetic to your core, you feel what everyone else does so you hide yourself in your mind until you can categorize the emotions from the lies. I know you can feel the love in your heart even through all the cracks, like a weathered and torn apart roadmap but you're taped together perfectly and even with a few wrong turns you always find your way back to me.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
Emotions In Spectacular Fashions
No weapon formed against me shall prosper, Because He who protects me is the greatest, And He puts to shame anything that tries to make my life miserable, He allows trials to strengthen me but never to defeat me, Nothing will frustrate my life for He is the greatest, His joy is my strength, His love my armour, His favour my hope No matter what the enemy plots,he can never succeed because my Protector is greater.
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Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
No weapon formed against me shall prosper!
What's wrong with you? Who do you think you are? Look, he thinks he's tough, he thinks he knows everything Seriously who does he think he is Do you think you're Prince Regent You think you're a hard man, yeah! How dare you, how ****** dare you You wanna mess with us, do you, big man Don't you know who we are! We the business, we're more than you We ****** rule the ******* ****** world We rule your *** we make and bend the law We take and we give, we are the ****** ******** We block and you're finished, no ****** **** no life We come from the South, East, West  and ****** North We are gangsters and we got the contacts and the contracts When we say jump, you ask, how ****** high should I jump Look this ****** small geezer playing with us How dare you making us feel frustrated and stupid We'll got all kinds of mind **** ready to do your head in How dare you not play ball, a woman set up to wind you up Now we're not getting inside gossip and juicy stories to use Now all the women waiting eagerly to hear bedroom gossip are all disappointed cause you are not following the ****** plot We can't bend your head and frustrate you and stress you out You ****** small man, you're not even tall and you wanna diss us. Who are you you little ****** We spend all our valuable time taunting you We try and depress and torment you and you laugh What do you want, do you wanna mess with People's Power We can make you disappear if we want, do you know that big boy We put all kind of moves on yer and yet you struts like a king We harass your ****** mind and try to demoralize you Listen sunshine you better stop being such a ******* smart *** You think you ******* know everything, making us look stupid. You better watch out, you better watch ****** out Cause ain't no Santa coming for you, we are the Rulers And we hate you and your big ******* **** you ain't got ***** You are costing us ****** money, time and energy, you effin **** Do you know some of us sit all day thinking up ways to get at you Do you know some wait in the ****** cold to watch you all day You think its easy having to think up nonsensical things to write Or making up all kinds of scenarios all because of you ******** You think you are superman, Atlas and Einstein rolled into one! Do you, George, Answer me George.....answer Me!!!
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Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
Stop Laughing! Sunshine......
What's wrong with you? Who do you think you are? Look, he thinks he's tough, he thinks he knows everything Seriously who does he think he is Do you think you're Prince Regent You think you're a hard man, yeah! How dare you, how ****** dare you You wanna mess with us, do you, big man Don't you know who we are! We the business, we're more than you We ****** rule the ******* ****** world We rule your *** we make and bend the law We take and we give, we are the ****** ******** We block and you're finished, no ****** **** no life We come from the South, East, West  and ****** North We are gangsters and we got the contacts and the contracts When we say jump, you ask, how ****** high should I jump Look this ****** small geezer playing with us How dare you making us feel frustrated and stupid We'll got all kinds of mind **** ready to do your head in How dare you not play ball, a woman set up to wind you up Now we're not getting inside gossip and juicy stories to use Now all the women waiting eagerly to hear bedroom gossip are all disappointed cause you are not following the ****** plot We can't bend your head and frustrate you and stress you out You ****** small man, you're not even tall and you wanna diss us. Who are you you little ****** We spend all our valuable time taunting you We try and depress and torment you and you laugh What do you want, do you wanna mess with People's Power We can make you disappear if we want, do you know that big boy We put all kind of moves on yer and yet you struts like a king We harass your ****** mind and try to demoralize you Listen sunshine you better stop being such a ******* smart *** You think you ******* know everything, making us look stupid. You better watch out, you better watch ****** out Cause ain't no Santa coming for you, we are the Rulers And we hate you and your big ******* **** you ain't got ***** You are costing us ****** money, time and energy, you effin **** Do you know some of us sit all day thinking up ways to get at you Do you know some wait in the ****** cold to watch you all day You think its easy having to think up nonsensical things to write Or making up all kinds of scenarios all because of you ******** You think you are superman, Atlas and Einstein rolled into one! Do you, George, Answer me George.....answer Me!!!
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46
Polished off the filler rods now lifes got me dreaming soley about the silver lining the spooning of the woman on the moon Keep mapping the schematic, the big move heading straight to the oil soaked cash Ready again to make the great dash This time I'll save my dimes for those unavoidable hard times I'll pile it under my matress a secrete stash thats all mine Work my *** to the bone by welding up a storm Sitting all leathered up on my light weaver throne To meditate and consentrate on 13 times the suns bright Keep the eyes focused and fixate count to ten when the mechanics frustrate Troubleshoot the lines of life fix the issue then collect the lute.
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Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
Welders rhyme
Sax, clarinet, grade 8, scales, sight reading, frustrate. Super rock, teaching, french cafe, logic, preaching, don't go that way! Camp, sociology, tech, music, general, respect. cleaning, brother, size, love, loss, surprise. feet, freedom, modelling, workout, fear, not bothering.
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
Sorrows Spilt II
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never been more frustrated for not remembering a dream:_( deja vu brought to view even better this time that was like the twisted flu an erase my system moonlighted on me frustrate to repeat sunset a truck corner an autumn lasting in the backseat forget that the ocean sailed and orange witches golden a town of ancient camps imagined clean desires and broken any subconscious stubborn to hold on inner fantasy? cause me can't reach a fulfill a journey come to and ending duality violet unaware a desire everlasting bel air do dreams come true flasher in sharp not matter mere??? bare me the renaissance a century in ancestry fading memory far pieced in my head puzzled mad realization aiming stars magnetism the hell it means dungeon and dilemma bolds sharp steeps deepen the voices running struggles put to the sold -----ravenfeels
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Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 5:51 PM UTC
Impossible Been Seen For Me Not You
Like all days, I wonder. I wonder what you're thinking. If you're thinking of me. If that's a stupid thing to think. Like all days, I wonder. I wonder if I stop you. Stop you from whatever you're doing. Because the thought of me gave you butterflies. Like all days, I wonder. I wonder if I frustrate you. If you're frustrated that I haven't kept in touch lately. Maybe we're both too stubborn to start the conversation. Like all days, I wonder. I wonder if I make you smile. From a memory you don't want to forget. There are so many of those that you could recall. Like all days, I wonder. I wonder if I haunt you. Just as much as you've been haunting me. We're both ghosts haunting what we hope is still there. Like all days, you wonder. You wonder if I wonder about you, too. If I'm just as flustered with these thoughts as you are. Maybe we've been sharing these feelings all along. Like all days, we wonder.
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Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
What Am I To You?
Perhaps Bread or Boon, Wine or Concubine Will satisfy your Thirst for Hunger's sake That Tomorrow lends her Hand for your Define Are what your Efforts took to form your Make See? How persistent that Winged ****** goes, Pointing his Heads to where they don't belong Or, at least, what the Dogma-Tribe bestows Out of their Tent the Patriarch breathes strong Really? Such Oppressive Moves they decide To tell whether the Tune was Right or not That Worm, called Ego, from Adam's Bite, Pride Twisted Futures which their Love has forgot. Easily that my Wheels can just frustrate To know what's Right, but realise too late.
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - SIXTY-TWO - TOM DALEY
Oh God, the Most Merciful and Compassionate: Please grant us the grace and opportunity to be your instrument in the mercy and compassion that you epitomize. May You grant us peace in our lifetime and frustrate those who seek to cause discord and sow hatred in your name. Please enlighten our collective conciousness. May we be continually reminded that we are all on this Pale Blue Dot together. Please help us to grow out of this petty and useless tribalism and nationalism that are invoked far too often to justify violence. May You grant us all a desire to strive for peace and have mercy on us for our many sins against each other. Amen
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
A prayer
We are a sum of all of our choices Of all our experience and echoing voices Voices in our head that tell you what to do Voices outside that are nagging at you Voices of people who tell you you're wrong Frustrate you and break you until you're long gone You're inherently good; you were born to be kind But society ***** and it changes your mind You're inherently good; you were born just that way You were born to be good, you were born to be great You're inherently good, so lay down your arms 'Cause a baby never did you any harm, did it? A baby never did you any harm.
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Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Inherent Goodness - Day 8
You make me frustrated - Frustrated that when I look at you And think to say I love you, The word falls short Like the shortness of breath you cause When your eyes connect with mine It frustrates me that You make me feel What no dictionary has a proper word for. So how then will I convey The stutter of my heart When you whisper my name, Making all the world just fall away, Till it's just you and me? Tell me how I'm supposed to let you know That I'm nauseous with bliss when you walk my way And that I'm shivering and rubbing and holding myself In a futile attempt to escape the cold That comes when you're gone? Tell me how I'm supposed to, in one phrase, Light the understanding of your consciousness Like you light my life with your presence, Getting you to see that I don't just love you, But that you frustrate me?
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
Frustration
I'm slowly becoming a cynic People, human beings frustrate me. I've even begun to frustrate myself, Regrets pile on top of one another, and like inertia they can't seem to stop. It would seem I am human.
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Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 8:16 PM UTC
It Would Seem I'm Human
my mother was born a gardener and my father became one through patient snap peas and angry red tomatoes he seeded and watered and waited while my mother grew hibiscus in the mountains and plums in the shade i was born a painter but its tank me years to pick up a paintbrush and my brother was born a poet but i sincerely doubt that he’ll ever show it i mix my paints on my palette of flowers and my brother goes to meetings at banks My other attended the only Agricultural High School available to her within a 40 mile radius of her South Philadelphia home. This was not a coincidence. My father attended the best athletic conference in his affluent suburban community. This was. She started out watering plants in fast food joints, arranging flowers for junior proms in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. When my father met her, she only ate lettuce and seeds because that was all she could manage to put in her body. My father kneeled to the ground, saw the soil beneath her fingernails, and fell in love. I can only love men who garden. I can only be a daughter of the earth because of them. I don’t like terrariums because they frustrate me. Life trapped behind glass, that I cannot touch, or feel, or smell. I cannot water, I cannot fathom to even slightly disturb their existence, no matter how desperately I want to. I’m getting my hands ***** touching old soil. I wipe it on my skirt before I touch the sweat on the back of my neck. I’m planting forget-me-nots and basil. I don’t even know if those go together. But I am putting them deep in the ground and it occurs to me that in a few weeks, I might not even remember them. They might die and become some stupid memory, a part of my dinner party story vernacular, Or maybe waiting for them will change me, will allow me to commit as a meditation on earthen peace.
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
I Grow, or I'm a Card-Carrying Member of the New England Carnivorous Plant Society, but I Don't Live In New England or Own a Carnivorous Plant
my mother was born a gardener and my father became one through patient snap peas and angry red tomatoes he seeded and watered and waited while my mother grew hibiscus in the mountains and plums in the shade i was born a painter but its tank me years to pick up a paintbrush and my brother was born a poet but i sincerely doubt that he’ll ever show it i mix my paints on my palette of flowers and my brother goes to meetings at banks My other attended the only Agricultural High School available to her within a 40 mile radius of her South Philadelphia home. This was not a coincidence. My father attended the best athletic conference in his affluent suburban community. This was. She started out watering plants in fast food joints, arranging flowers for junior proms in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. When my father met her, she only ate lettuce and seeds because that was all she could manage to put in her body. My father kneeled to the ground, saw the soil beneath her fingernails, and fell in love. I can only love men who garden. I can only be a daughter of the earth because of them. I don’t like terrariums because they frustrate me. Life trapped behind glass, that I cannot touch, or feel, or smell. I cannot water, I cannot fathom to even slightly disturb their existence, no matter how desperately I want to. I’m getting my hands ***** touching old soil. I wipe it on my skirt before I touch the sweat on the back of my neck. I’m planting forget-me-nots and basil. I don’t even know if those go together. But I am putting them deep in the ground and it occurs to me that in a few weeks, I might not even remember them. They might die and become some stupid memory, a part of my dinner party story vernacular, Or maybe waiting for them will change me, will allow me to commit as a meditation on earthen peace.
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20
How do you dislike me? Let me count the ways. At least half of what I do and half of what I say Seems to irritate and frustrate you. My deeds mistrusted and misunderstood As something other than selfless good. Your suspicion steals a narrow view Of how I would prefer to spend my time. So the sentence precedes the crime And love is shackled in its gaol, A prisoner with no parole, Once found guilty, condemned for all, And nothing can now avail. Imagined crimes will never fade And penance be ne’er truly paid.
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Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
Sonnet 43 (How do you dislike me?)
I go to great heights to prove myself Anger is kept inside, it is too personal for the world's eyes I exercise caution with each interaction My presence is barely felt A gentle reminder that life is not always gentle I am a pronoun in the vast language of people Many worries can eat away at a heart, so I choose just one I am an incarnation of an idea that even I cannot pinpoint My intention is to be happy I shudder at the cliche I am not conservative, although I may seem that way It is an attempt to blend in Complications, bumps in the road These frustrate, even infuriate, me I require absolutes. Uncertainty destroys Robot life would be magical Emotion is for the weak I try not to preach, only listen Ideas are nothing more than words strung together These strings become puzzles for your enjoyment
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Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
Anonymous
I hate people. They anger me. They're ridiculous. It irritates me. I hate people. They frustrate me. They're so stupid. It upsets me. I hate people.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
I Hate People.
The kind that say "I've not done such and such in days." The "Such and such" being something needed to sustain life Who sit on their phones after telling you that YOU are hosting them On a Thursday night Whom dodge non-academic questions because they're hard And afraid the answer you expect is correct Who say things just because they want your pity Even if those things aren't true The kind of people who are ungrateful The kind of people who are stupid because Maturing and learning is too hard "It's much easier to pity myself and stay ignorant" they say Those people frustrate me Perhaps they frustrate me so because there was a time When I did a few of those things
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May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
These People Frustrate Me