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"indecisive" poems
Do you ever feel numb It's that feeling when your whole world Seems to fall apart right in front of you And there's nothing you can do about it It's that feeling when you're all choked up And the words just won't seem to come out The tears are stuck, and they strangle you And all you feel is sole numbness It's that feeling when you're indecisive Do you not care anymore? Or are you just really tired? Or is this just a phase that will pass? It's that feeling when you're exhausted Mentally Physically Emotionally And you wish to close your eyes And never open them, Ever again.
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Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Numbness
The next to empty train Roars through the mist of dawn As it passes the lakes and elves The dark and mystic pines -forests that once told of horrors To keep the ones like me From crossing the line- This box, this crate A testament of the modern man To whom which it serves It is somewhat of a time traveller When it breezes the land That years have made its own And yet there are scenes from my window That I know are proofs Of exceptions to the rule that reads, “time will take its toll” All the brooks and oaks And even more so Every bolder and stone Convinces my heart and soul That I need not be marred and scorned Broken and torn By the thistles and thorns And all the bourdons that the lions Of this glass world Convict me to ***** Since there is a side To the manic and indecisive puzzle that is I A side of realism and cynicism Thus I am well aware of my mortality And the scarcity of the time that is mine My existence is an indirect unwritten vow To never bend my back and bow To never fall in line And receive my share of coals To fuel this machine down the rusty tracks In a race against nature or God A race to prove one or the other Or even both wrong A race we’ve already lost
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
On A Train
I used to put these headphones on. And at once, the whole world was gone And the music did no wrong Till I found myself doin’ it all day long. But I still kept these headphones on Because my headset drowned my strife, Cut through it like a knife, Till I was bound to the music for all my life. I used to sit in earnest at my computer chair ITunes and my iPod in hand as I prepare Another playlist. Indecisive between hip-hop and RnB While I let humanity’s problems sit on a wait-list. But I just left these headphones on. Not a care or thought about global pollution Amidst our world’s confusion All signs pointing to a troubled conclusion, But yet, me and my headphones ignore the solutions. Why? Because music forever plays, That even when solutions were raised, I just sat there… As the environment died everyday. Because all I did was listen to these headphones. As I laid awake in my bed, Nothing running through my head, Except music, And I felt alive listening to the words that was said When in reality Inside I was dead But I still left these headphones in So I can block out my parent’s groans when I know that I have disappointed them Maybe I’m just missing the point again. And all the while my dads fist connecting with the door As he has always done before, in the past Choosing to ignore, with music full blast I found myself more and more detached. Not only my parents, but even the politicians are itchin’ To get me to listen, Hopin and wishin that This generation would eventually find its ambition. I used to think that iTunes could do no wrong. And that it was all I ever needed Because all it was to me was a program full of songs But I didn’t like where my life was headed. And god it’s amazing, the word iTunes. Such a fitting name Because I tuned my friends out And there is no one else to blame As I tuned my parents out Our relationship will never be the same As I tuned the world out Now look at who I became. So now I’m taking these headphones off. Because I don’t want to stay connected Acting like I was totally unaffected When in fact, the world around me I neglected So I’ll change, No longer will these headphones hold the reins I am cutting off all of my chains And I know a life ahead of me still remains That without these headphones, There is so much more to gain.
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Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC
Headphones
I used to put these headphones on. And at once, the whole world was gone And the music did no wrong Till I found myself doin’ it all day long. But I still kept these headphones on Because my headset drowned my strife, Cut through it like a knife, Till I was bound to the music for all my life. I used to sit in earnest at my computer chair ITunes and my iPod in hand as I prepare Another playlist. Indecisive between hip-hop and RnB While I let humanity’s problems sit on a wait-list. But I just left these headphones on. Not a care or thought about global pollution Amidst our world’s confusion All signs pointing to a troubled conclusion, But yet, me and my headphones ignore the solutions. Why? Because music forever plays, That even when solutions were raised, I just sat there… As the environment died everyday. Because all I did was listen to these headphones. As I laid awake in my bed, Nothing running through my head, Except music, And I felt alive listening to the words that was said When in reality Inside I was dead But I still left these headphones in So I can block out my parent’s groans when I know that I have disappointed them Maybe I’m just missing the point again. And all the while my dads fist connecting with the door As he has always done before, in the past Choosing to ignore, with music full blast I found myself more and more detached. Not only my parents, but even the politicians are itchin’ To get me to listen, Hopin and wishin that This generation would eventually find its ambition. I used to think that iTunes could do no wrong. And that it was all I ever needed Because all it was to me was a program full of songs But I didn’t like where my life was headed. And god it’s amazing, the word iTunes. Such a fitting name Because I tuned my friends out And there is no one else to blame As I tuned my parents out Our relationship will never be the same As I tuned the world out Now look at who I became. So now I’m taking these headphones off. Because I don’t want to stay connected Acting like I was totally unaffected When in fact, the world around me I neglected So I’ll change, No longer will these headphones hold the reins I am cutting off all of my chains And I know a life ahead of me still remains That without these headphones, There is so much more to gain.
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62
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. - Jorge Guillén Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. The train and the woman filling the sky. Your shy solitude in the hotels and your pure mask of another sign. It is the sea's childhood and your silence where the wise windows were breaking. It is your stiff ignorance where my torso was limited by fire. I gave you the norm of love, man of Apollo, the lament of a crazed nightingale, but, pasture of ruin, you sharpened yourself for brief, indecisive dreams. Thought head on, light of yesterday, indices and signs of what may be. Your waist of restless sand follows only trails that never rise. But without you your warm soul fails to understand. I must search the corners of a halted Apollo that I've used to break the mask you wear. There, lion, fury of heaven, I will let you graze on my cheeks; there, blue horse of my madness, pulse of nebula and minute hand, I must search for scorpion stones and your mother's childhood clothes, midnight lament and torn cloth that wiped the moon from the dead man's temple. Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. Strange soul of the space in my veins, I must search for you, small and rootless. Love of always, love of never! Oh, yes! I want. Love. Let me be. Don't cover my mouth, you who search for Saturn's seed in the snow or castrate animals in the sky, clinic and jungle of anatomy. Love, love. Childhood of the sea. Without you your warm soul fails to understand you. Love, a doe's flight through the endless breast of whiteness. And your childhood, love, and childhood. The train and the woman filling the sky. Not you, not I, not air, not leaves. Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
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7.2k
Your Infancy in Mention
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. - Jorge Guillén Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. The train and the woman filling the sky. Your shy solitude in the hotels and your pure mask of another sign. It is the sea's childhood and your silence where the wise windows were breaking. It is your stiff ignorance where my torso was limited by fire. I gave you the norm of love, man of Apollo, the lament of a crazed nightingale, but, pasture of ruin, you sharpened yourself for brief, indecisive dreams. Thought head on, light of yesterday, indices and signs of what may be. Your waist of restless sand follows only trails that never rise. But without you your warm soul fails to understand. I must search the corners of a halted Apollo that I've used to break the mask you wear. There, lion, fury of heaven, I will let you graze on my cheeks; there, blue horse of my madness, pulse of nebula and minute hand, I must search for scorpion stones and your mother's childhood clothes, midnight lament and torn cloth that wiped the moon from the dead man's temple. Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. Strange soul of the space in my veins, I must search for you, small and rootless. Love of always, love of never! Oh, yes! I want. Love. Let me be. Don't cover my mouth, you who search for Saturn's seed in the snow or castrate animals in the sky, clinic and jungle of anatomy. Love, love. Childhood of the sea. Without you your warm soul fails to understand you. Love, a doe's flight through the endless breast of whiteness. And your childhood, love, and childhood. The train and the woman filling the sky. Not you, not I, not air, not leaves. Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
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46
He made my heart feel the way my toes did early in the morning when I'd open the refrigerator and the cool gust of impact would brush right past my toes and jolt them awake while I, being the teenager that I was couldn't decide on a simple thing such as breakfast. Indecisive, I was.. even about him.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
Indecisive
he, hardly fit, sleeps fitfully he, like a baby, up and down at 2am the cerebrum racked, like a street *** so needy, for a low caloric, non-alcoholic snack pickles - the almost zero solution, dill in particular, or even the slightly bad boy cousins, the buttered variety so in his customized original 100% sleeping skin gear, standing in front of the shiniest fridge gleaming, his unfortunate reflection somewhat steamy, indecisive, which, his pickle, to to choose, which to eat, completely complete, to celebrate his dietetic restraint so she, the yoga ballerina lioness, finds him upright but not uptight, leaving him in an awkward so to speak, poem, pickling, naked and speechless, as the mouth is fully engorged and on point she summarizes most eloquently, the ****** and the crudités and the et. al., with a succinctly pithy observation: *"ah, I see (me wincing), still crazy after all these years* ...and other stories*
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
**** pickles and other stories
The fact that I can't Make a decision is a Decision right there. I am in limbo Between two lovely, loving Beautiful men. I am completely Unsure of what my next step Will guide my heart to. I am completely Afraid of taking any Unsteady steps now, I am completely In love with two different people for Different reasons; I cannot decide, I cannot make up my mind too. I can't continue. I can't have them both. I'm in a pit of quicksand And it's drowning me. I can't do this to Two men who deserve better, Someone decisive. Neither realize where I am currently, only I know where I stand. I am in between, Looking left to one, right to The other and I know That I have made a Decision just by looking At them, here and there. I am shaking my Head. I am saying no to Two astounding men. I am only a Young, indecisive, confused Girl that rips hearts up. I am losing two Men that will, in time, come to Understand this all. I pick neither for I love both too much, too much To be with one man. I'll break three hearts in A matter of 3 seconds, We three have all lost. I lost the most here Because I lost sight of how To love a man well. I loved the most here Because I loved two, enough To let them be free From me and my issue; I don't deserve them and That's easy to see.
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Decisions- A Haiku
How many times will I say, write, or perform a mistake? Everlong it seems, because no matter how far I travel someone's there telling me I'm wrong or that I'm just not ready. I thought it would die like a flower buried in snow What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was I reading? Believing family could act accordingly when they saw a new lion ,but like they said I will always be a cub. There is no other place for me. To explore! To leave the nest even if the farthest I go is to the nearest branch And to be look upon as a bird with just a few miles in his wings To explore! to indulge with peers, to embrace society, and to be mistreated. Oh! what a treat it is to be mistreated, to feel alive and unaccepted in the same breath If only I could get past the unaccepted part maybe it be easier to love myself. To love another, but first I must love thy self. To love one self and to take reminders of my flaws and look upon them as compliments. To humble my strengths and listen clearly to my loud mistakes. In the end of this poem I decided to be than not to be. And to live rather than to sleep.Oh Hamlet how could you ever be so indecisive, now you will forever be remembered as just a prince.
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
How Not To Be Like Hamlet
Dear Spanish breeze, You rolled up my inspirational sleeves. You gave me a glorious sight and placed me in an inventive light. I call you a thief in the night for robbing words out of my mouth. You guide my fingertips and the lips of my pen by kisses of daydreams and endless ideas. I am a home where the sweetest poems abide in. Ready to come out and imprint a thousand pages. What a delight to travel through poetic time of this artistic city. Dear Spanish sun, You burned my lack of poetic desire. You colored my inventiveness like you darkened my skin. I admire the way you have inspired me to become the poetess i aspire to be. Your ravishing art undressed the indecisive poetess in me. So here I stand emotionally naked in front of written truth ready to loose myself in your Catalan atmosphere. "Rest your ears darling and let your eyes whisper poetic visuals," you say. And i close my eyes. I travel through this dream till forever ends.
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Catalan Therapy
No one is here and I feel at ease; I feel the recesses of my imagination spring forward as ideas are at the forefront of my mind, yet I cannot put them down on paper. I feel the neon pinks and blues and greens that I know strongly resonate with me, but to my dismay, nothing ever comes to fruition as much as I hope. That cliché phrase of, “The sky is the limit,” drowns me as I realize parameters and prompts are what guide me to what I truly want; the idea of freedom gives me anxiety, as I am a clueless ant on this plane. As I look at a solitary trashcan of impossible black, this idea of suffocation truly encompasses my mind, inescapable, unreachable, and unattainable. Yet at the same time, limits **** darlings. With this seeming paradox of open-endedness and limitation, I set forth on my prompt, however mundane it may seem now. This task seemed at first simple, but it proved difficult at times, like most mundane looking venues. My mind is not unlike a checkerboard stone table: cold and calculating; I feel my imagination dies when my fingers touch keys, when pen hits paper. “The sky is the limit,” drowns me over and over and over again. I look out of my peripherals and glance at the red building signs, wishing there was something as obvious as that for a sense of direction in my life. My imagination truly hates me, my imagination truly loves me; it is an indecisive companion. I wish I was alone, but my mind wishes otherwise.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
The colors of my mind
don't sleep anymore feeling on top of the world no one can stop me now can go hours on end of thoughtless talks constantly moving legs bumping up and down up and down biting my nails gritting my teeth irritated impulsive indecisive happy as all hell but it will not last i can bet you that
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Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
Manic
Through the indecisive branches went a girl who was life. Through the indecisive branches. She reflected daylight, with a tiny mirror, which was the splendour, of her unclouded forehead. Through the indecisive branches. In the dark of night, lost, she wandered, weeping the dew, of this imprisoned time. Through the indecisive branches.
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3.6k
The Prisoner
Strewn about Pushed and pulled Kneaded and formed Torn between fluctuations Waves of highs and lows Guided by incessant duality Indecisive self esteem is a certainty Inevitable and constant is change Enjoy your main character moment It always goes just as sudden as it came God complex with a hint of self loathing We dance on the scales of our emotions Just because the pain is carried well Doesnt mean it isn't heavy, the weight of it is always felt Survival is sometimes met with guilt Youre invincible to everyone except yourself Stay balanced and level Integrity above all else Do whats right when noones looking Or be tortured by the secrets you can never tell
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Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 11:08 PM UTC
In Secret
Look at the failure, stood over there, The world his oyster, yet his hands are bare. Indecisive till the end but confident on the out, Should've dropped the pride, ended the doubt. Look at the waster, dwinding away, Long grown hair, ***** face on display. Could've been somebody important, Helped the world out, what a shame he decided to fall stout. Look at the, deadbeat, crouching, still, Isn't he brill, Lifewaster. Hello, Mirror.
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Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 1:35 PM UTC
On Failure
Sorry I write about ***** so much. Sorry I don't smoke. Sorry i most likely have a drink in my hand if you text me late at night. (deep conversations are fueled with alcohol) Sorry if I make no sense sometimes. Sorry I can't stop. Sorry I don't warn you if you come over. Sorry I won't open up and sorry I won't shut up. Sorry that I'm confused. Sorry I'm indecisive. With everything. I am so very sorry but I can't promise anything.
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
sorry.
You lack honestly The mere bluntness I seek Your shadowed emotions Hidden, masked Behind blurred, Mixed signals Submerged in frustration Confusion Trying to decode Your thoughts Your actions Your words Do they mean nothing? Or is there something here? A small spark to a flame Growing at a brisk pace Or perhaps its the end The end of hope My hope You call me Text me Hug me Even kiss me You tell me how much I mean to you How much you trust me Then you stop Not only do you lack honesty But you are indecisive Your emotions shadowed Trapped, confined Behind blurred, Mixed Signals
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Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
Mixed Signals
I am a thousand different things I'm people, objects, nature, animal I'm woman, man, girl, boy, child toddler, baby, foetus I'm all you could dream of (not) wanting I'm all you wish you were (not) I'm (your) anger, sadness, fear, regret I'm (your) happiness, joy, hope, love When I write, I'm a character fiction, autobiographical, biographical I'm lived, burned, broken, insane I'm madness, virginal, loose, free closeted, bi-curious, let's wait it out and see I'm intrigue, a passer by, I'm the observer, the observed, voyeurism, peeping tom, negative film Moss, McQueen, Klein I'm art, symbolism, post-modernism, I'm poetry; written and spoken I'm the woman you read of; her I'm the girl who made you cry I'm full to the brim of (your) inspiration I open doors to the past, then slam the door in your bright doe eyes I close doors to my future, and sneak back through cracks in the floor, just to get back I laugh in your face, and burn holes in skin at your absence I kick dirt in my eye, then cry wolf blinded, I'm the severest of contradictions, I say yes at no, no to yes, I decide on impulse, and cry on cue Beauty, romance, love, lust poetry, all the questions I am made of I answer in the written word mute, You only know me, (if of course you dare) by reading my rhymes, (non judgmental stance) and loving me regardless, (don't expect perfection) If you're going down the same road start today, face your demons, be the contradiction. © Sia Jane -- *"So unimpressed but so in awe Such a saint but such a ***** So self aware so full of **** So indecisive so adamant So rock and roll, so corporate suit So **** ugly, so **** cute So well-trained, so animal So need your love, so **** you all"* Robbie Williams - Come Undone
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Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Labyrinth (lost)
I am a thousand different things I'm people, objects, nature, animal I'm woman, man, girl, boy, child toddler, baby, foetus I'm all you could dream of (not) wanting I'm all you wish you were (not) I'm (your) anger, sadness, fear, regret I'm (your) happiness, joy, hope, love When I write, I'm a character fiction, autobiographical, biographical I'm lived, burned, broken, insane I'm madness, virginal, loose, free closeted, bi-curious, let's wait it out and see I'm intrigue, a passer by, I'm the observer, the observed, voyeurism, peeping tom, negative film Moss, McQueen, Klein I'm art, symbolism, post-modernism, I'm poetry; written and spoken I'm the woman you read of; her I'm the girl who made you cry I'm full to the brim of (your) inspiration I open doors to the past, then slam the door in your bright doe eyes I close doors to my future, and sneak back through cracks in the floor, just to get back I laugh in your face, and burn holes in skin at your absence I kick dirt in my eye, then cry wolf blinded, I'm the severest of contradictions, I say yes at no, no to yes, I decide on impulse, and cry on cue Beauty, romance, love, lust poetry, all the questions I am made of I answer in the written word mute, You only know me, (if of course you dare) by reading my rhymes, (non judgmental stance) and loving me regardless, (don't expect perfection) If you're going down the same road start today, face your demons, be the contradiction. © Sia Jane -- *"So unimpressed but so in awe Such a saint but such a ***** So self aware so full of **** So indecisive so adamant So rock and roll, so corporate suit So **** ugly, so **** cute So well-trained, so animal So need your love, so **** you all"* Robbie Williams - Come Undone
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Indecisive Maybe misguided I'm digging myself deeper in the rut Don't make any decisions But expect a new view To eclipse my tunnel vision. I wish that I knew But the whole city knows The whole stupid city knows that I don't. I've got some friends here Some that I hardly know Some that I know entirely too well And regardless of category,  I wonder As I sit here, lookin' at laughs At smiles, at scowls How long it's going to be before we don't know Each other at all How long before we barely have Memories. I'm ready to go We're all starting to grow I really know that I should go But what happens when you don't like the skin you're growing into? What happens When the things keeping me together fall apart? What happens when it's my own ******* fault? A glorious display of regression. I'm indecisive Pretty misguided Putting myself farther in the wrong Yeah, I'll admit that I'm wrong Like you were wrong I guess we're just going to be wrong About some things. I know that I am because it could never be It would never be It should never be this easy. It should never be this easy To not care. Make everyone happy Put it all on ice And hope that global warming doesn't apply here Hope that they believe You thought that was possible. Hope they believe That you didn't know I know it's almost time to go I know we're all going to go I know I really should go But I'm too ******* scared To know much else. Doing everything with everyone, Attaching to no one Yeah, I'm full of solid ideas Ideas and ideals and appeals Appealing for belief That I had the best intentions A glorious display of repression. Why? Well, when your diagnostics team is ****** You're safe to assume That the problem isn't going to be resolved. I'd run the diagnostics, But I'm too afraid of being honest And honestly I know that I'm misguided But things just don't come full circle When you're indecisive.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
indecisive
Indecisive Maybe misguided I'm digging myself deeper in the rut Don't make any decisions But expect a new view To eclipse my tunnel vision. I wish that I knew But the whole city knows The whole stupid city knows that I don't. I've got some friends here Some that I hardly know Some that I know entirely too well And regardless of category,  I wonder As I sit here, lookin' at laughs At smiles, at scowls How long it's going to be before we don't know Each other at all How long before we barely have Memories. I'm ready to go We're all starting to grow I really know that I should go But what happens when you don't like the skin you're growing into? What happens When the things keeping me together fall apart? What happens when it's my own ******* fault? A glorious display of regression. I'm indecisive Pretty misguided Putting myself farther in the wrong Yeah, I'll admit that I'm wrong Like you were wrong I guess we're just going to be wrong About some things. I know that I am because it could never be It would never be It should never be this easy. It should never be this easy To not care. Make everyone happy Put it all on ice And hope that global warming doesn't apply here Hope that they believe You thought that was possible. Hope they believe That you didn't know I know it's almost time to go I know we're all going to go I know I really should go But I'm too ******* scared To know much else. Doing everything with everyone, Attaching to no one Yeah, I'm full of solid ideas Ideas and ideals and appeals Appealing for belief That I had the best intentions A glorious display of repression. Why? Well, when your diagnostics team is ****** You're safe to assume That the problem isn't going to be resolved. I'd run the diagnostics, But I'm too afraid of being honest And honestly I know that I'm misguided But things just don't come full circle When you're indecisive.
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68
Lake Michigan sand rests within my bones; it slows the timing of my heart and scratches the vowels budding on my wet tongue. I imagine waiting for you on a bench of ghosts with coffee and binoculars, observing the rush of continuous flutter as seagulls settle and then unsettle, as indecisive as the mottled lake. The afternoon light is brisk, pulls my breath like a buoy chain-- my heart sounds like it's underwater, its beats drive the tide that draws you, like an undertow, to me.
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
Drawstring
Dear Miss , I Dont know your name I just Know Your Fragrance. Wanting to get to know you more, But Our Small talk was Near Shy of a Indecisive Conversation Waiting to Be Present. You'd rather Hear the Echo's of silence in your room, Studying then to Hear the Same Lines Lies guys tell Just to get you in. Dear Miss, your Ambition is Irrelevant, i can see you clearly in my future like Cars With out no tent and i will let you stay on my mind and in my Heart with out no Rent. Dear Miss , I hope you understand Where i Stand, I aint tryna Be ya boo and i aint tryna Be an Uncle Sam, im Tryna be with you. Be The Reaason that you Smile, and if its time that i have to work with then I can Wait A While and when i wake up in the morning all i seem to think about is how i Picture your Pretty smile ... Dear Miss
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Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
Future
Why do people readily believe When you tell them: There are 7 billion stars but check when the paint is wet? Fall and I'll catch you, No need to look back over your shoulder, I'll be there, I promise. I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not sure, I do know however My intentions are pure. How come sand is yellow, Why is it that when you draw a tree it always looks like broccoli? Why is it that when I eat broccoli I always imagine it to be a tiny tree? I munch delicately on this green leafy thought nugget, tasting each sprouty morsel, savoring its saged wisdom.
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Apr 29, 2011
Apr 29, 2011 at 2:52 AM UTC
Broccoli
The soft texture tickled her toes And she was quick to replace her bare foot, Searching for a place free of the Delicate petals That fell from her hands. Twelve more fragile futures fell to the ground, Collecting in an indecisive heap Whose beautiful, red hues Played tricks with the sun, Filling her head with illusions That all will be alright. She slashed at the other flowers Standing tall and proud around her, Dancing with the wind To heart stopping lyrics Sung in a language she could not understand. Tearing them up from the roots, She cursed their peaceful attitude And cold, heartless souls That continued to exude radiance As they teased her fragile heart, Dishing out good and bad news With a lovely toss of their golden center. It began to rain on their flawless figures, Yellow drops burning imperfect circles Through the otherwise perfect surface of their petals. For minutes, it continued to pour on the flowers, The large bottle held in the girl's trembling hand, Marked kerosene, Seemed to never run dry, Drowning the roots in a deadly poison. "He loves me not!" She shouted, Tossing the bottle aside, Only after showering herself in the Polluted rain, Becoming momentarily fixated on the way she reflected the light With dozens of drops clinging to her skin. The lighter was ruby red, Just like the petals who told of such a gloomy future. She had purchased it at the drug store because of its color, Her reflection bathed in red hid her uneven skin tone, Making her for the first time an image of beauty.   Flames took to the parched earth Like a teenage girl to dreams of happily ever after. Petals turned to ashes And skin to a yellow, melted liquid, Which fueled the inferno better than the yellow rain. Blistered fingers still held the lighter, The only thing visible in the dark, Smoky air. She clung to the image of her reflection, Staring at the face that had never been loved, And never would be, Long after flames took her sight.
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Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Yellow Rain
The soft texture tickled her toes And she was quick to replace her bare foot, Searching for a place free of the Delicate petals That fell from her hands. Twelve more fragile futures fell to the ground, Collecting in an indecisive heap Whose beautiful, red hues Played tricks with the sun, Filling her head with illusions That all will be alright. She slashed at the other flowers Standing tall and proud around her, Dancing with the wind To heart stopping lyrics Sung in a language she could not understand. Tearing them up from the roots, She cursed their peaceful attitude And cold, heartless souls That continued to exude radiance As they teased her fragile heart, Dishing out good and bad news With a lovely toss of their golden center. It began to rain on their flawless figures, Yellow drops burning imperfect circles Through the otherwise perfect surface of their petals. For minutes, it continued to pour on the flowers, The large bottle held in the girl's trembling hand, Marked kerosene, Seemed to never run dry, Drowning the roots in a deadly poison. "He loves me not!" She shouted, Tossing the bottle aside, Only after showering herself in the Polluted rain, Becoming momentarily fixated on the way she reflected the light With dozens of drops clinging to her skin. The lighter was ruby red, Just like the petals who told of such a gloomy future. She had purchased it at the drug store because of its color, Her reflection bathed in red hid her uneven skin tone, Making her for the first time an image of beauty.   Flames took to the parched earth Like a teenage girl to dreams of happily ever after. Petals turned to ashes And skin to a yellow, melted liquid, Which fueled the inferno better than the yellow rain. Blistered fingers still held the lighter, The only thing visible in the dark, Smoky air. She clung to the image of her reflection, Staring at the face that had never been loved, And never would be, Long after flames took her sight.
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DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I think my words speak for themselves;} tired of the blinded faults disgusted by the brutal unappreciation manifested in the untied bonds to **** the place and fire up the numbs maybe ending in tons of regrets and flooded ponds yet my indecisive conscience knows no faked up fonts and my rage is bored of a game of prison where no fun just please me with your silence drowned keep me with your mouths shut down you call me rage with no bounds well blame yourselves for the upcoming storm and sounds -----ravenfeels
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Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 1:47 PM UTC
I'm Done
I refuse to continue silently creeping through this empty forest with the only company being my darkest demons. I look down and see only a pathway,        nothing but a never-ending grey haze         I reach a dilemma          as the pathway concludes.           It dawns on me that I must change direction            into a golden meadow of many opportunities             or a black tunnel of nothingness,              where I would no longer feel a thing. I remain indecisive
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Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
Pathway