"negatives" poems
ever since i was young,
my gaze was drawn skyward.
i could tell you the story of orion,
and how to brush bernice's hair,
before i could tell you that two plus two equals four.
i know more about our vast universe,
than i know about many of my friends.
if you are not well acquainted with a pisces,
let me give you a bit of an introduction:
we are compassionate, imaginative,
we adapt to whatever is thrown at us,
and my personal favourite,
we are unfalteringly loyal.
however...
we are full of self-hate,
prone to laziness,
we are escapists
and horrendously easy to manipulate.
i believe my horoscope today is complete ********
i do not feel utterly lovely,
i know i will not score a date
because no one feels for me romantically.
i've nothing to flaunt.
the horoscopes are saccharine lies,
but, those traits? those are me.
my soul is ancient,
i feel the pain of struggles i have not faced,
or rather, have not YET faced;
i will split my soul in two
i will break my bones
i will give every drop of my blood
i will breathe my last breath
for those that i love.
i spent two years of my life giving my heart and soul to a sagittarius.
philosophical, adventurous.
i admired him so.
but his negatives--
inconsistent. overconfident.
careless.
he was a burning house.
my mother, also a pisces, when all was said and done,
told me to stay away from those sagittarius boys.
they're dangerous for wary, fretful fish like us,
who ask 'from what bridge?' when we are told to jump.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
I can never find the right words to describe how I feel,
the words never seem to make sense,
everything I say sounds like a contradiction,
but they say opposites attract
But when I'm around you,
all my feelings just go away,
and all the negatives become positive,
and it doesn't make sense at all
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
She introduced herself, as
Sunset.
Batted her lashes not to be flirtatious ,
But to hide that her eyes were wet.
All around me were blurred, but beautiful faces.
Yet, my eyes only focused on hers
The first that I noticed.
*When I bought my first camera,
From that sales-man down in Alabama.
And he taught me how to use it,
He said, "see here son, if I was to take your picture I'd set this camera here on portrait.
But if I took a picture of that pretty little girl 'cross the road"
he said with a smirk
"I'd have to set this here camera on Firework"*
It's funny how memories work.
I think of that man now, of his coffee colored skin and straw hat.
I never thought I'd need to know any of that.
but right here and now I set that camera to sunset.
raise it to my eye
And take a picture of
Sunset.
As if she were a colorful sky.
and that's it.
some people deserve more than a portrait.
And I know, I'm going to take her to a dark room.
And see what develops, of her negatives.
But first, I want to hear all about her crazy relatives.
Who gives her, her beauty?
where's she take her dog to groom?
The poodle on her leash is a cutie.
and what does she doodle on her notebooks?
stars or hearts or sugar skulls....
Does she know she's caught me on her fishin' hook?
What's she think of me, I'm sure I look dull.
Why are her teary eyes so full, About to overflow.
There were so many things I wanted to know....
before I took her to a dark room.
But it happened
And all I found in the picture that developed was gloom.
I realized I was her first.
And the best night of my life became my worst.
because I took something from her she didn't want to give.
But I just didn't know that she wouldn't want to live.
Keep reading, this ends beautifully.
beautifully like a sunset ends a day.
But, you have to believe me when I say that's not nearly as beautifully
As Sunset ends my hopes and dreams.
How she ended her own life
With pretty little pink pills.
One....Two....Three
gripped in her hand they found a picture of me.
And now I know, Sunsets are all about Beautiful Endings.
It's funny how memories work
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Pain, pain.
Shame, shame.
Why can't we all be friends?
Sorrow, sorrow.
Fear, fear.
Why am I so afraid?
A people hating its own
So much hate, pain, fear.
Why?
Why can't we just be at peace?
You can never truly win.
Your negatives will always outweigh
The positives.
True happiness is nonexistent.
Why? Why?
Why can't we reason together?
Sit and drink tea together?
Why all the schisms and hypocrisy
And hatred? Bias?
Why am I here?
What is my purpose?
What is my existence?
Do I mean anything to anyone?
What?
Why?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
Pray for the strength to be positive through the negatives,
If you want to catch a break well first something has to give,
So give your heart and mind to everything you do,
As souls we perform wonders I just wish we only knew,
Unknowing is true wisdom accepting what we can't grasp,
It's ok we have today and it could be our last,
In a way it is because it will never come again,
And all the before and afters are really just pretend,
This moment is peaceful if you recognize it as such,
Life is a blank canvas and you hold the paint brush,
Attachment is derailment for the peaceful train of thought,
If you always want more you'll never be happy with what you've got,
Loving what you have gives you everything you need,
I am as I am this is the true meaning of to be.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
I'll never forget
my first one.
The tree was
aglow;
branches
blazing
with enormous,
yellow and orange,
halcyon sunflowers.
A glorious heat
pulsated
up my back,
their magnificence
radiating
through all
my senses.
My eyes:
wide,
taking-in
every iota
of this visual
majesty.
Transfixed,
in a state of
awe,
my photographic
memory
came into
play.
Snapshots
of
those giant suns
forever imprinted;
negatives pressed,
into my mind.
A night to remember;
when halcyon sunflowers
danced
on the limbs
of trees and
the branches
of my mind.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Aries-
oh what have you done to deserve this?
so much hate in your heart for yourself
yet you were living a lie
I hope you're happy now
Taurus-
sweet child, what a pity that people can't help
but leave you
how many tears did you shed when he said
he didn't love you back?
I hope you find peace within yourself
Gemini-
I'm sorry he doesn't see you're the one
you're both stuck in this never ending
paradox where no one wins
don't change yourself just to please
the unpleasable
I hope you're whole again one day
Cancer-
you poor, tired soul. take a seat and look in the mirror for a change.
you are nothing if not beautiful.
please be kind to yourself
I hope you find happiness one day
Leo-
oh what a warrior you are. wartorn land and heart.
you're much more than your mistakes.
take a look at everyone around you.
I hope you realize you're not alone
Virgo-
my honey bear, my sweetie pie
your hands still shake when they call your name.
stop pretending you're okay.
there's nothing to be afraid of
I hope one day you find clarity
Libra-
you beautiful creature, how many times has someone failed to compliment you?
that number is in the negatives now and you're still on your high horse
get off for a second and ground yourself. it's only a matter of time.
I hope you forgive and forget
Scorpio-
my light, my dark, my everything in between
stop and smell the roses
can't you hear them singing for you?
your eyes always did make my heart stop
I hope you forget why you're hurting
Sagittarius-
baby bear cub, you sweet little thing
how many days have you been at sea? enough to not love them back
just remember where you came from
I hope your dreams come true
Capricorn-
my one true love affair, you're mighty small for someone who loves to talk
your nose freckles never seemed so prominent
I love your laugh, I love your cry
I hope you realize what you've done to me
Aquarius-
my life and my wannabe lover, you're drowning in regret
I can smell the whiskey on your breath
yet you're too drunk to see straight
I hope you remember who you are
Pisces-
my soulmate and best friend
I know you're still hurting
but open up for a change and let them know the real you
you can't sweep it under the rug forever
I hope you can be yourself
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
Here at Kinkos
We have a saying, “copies of copies”
You are trained to always ask for a source file
The digital file of the picture the camera took
The negatives of digital cameras
You see because when you print a picture from that file it’s the best it will ever be
Every detail captured in that moment stored in bits and bytes ready
If you make a copy of that picture it will never be as good
And if you make a copy of that copy it’ll be even worse
And if you were to make a copy of the hundredth copy of the ninety ninth copy you might not even recognize the image
Whether it’s a speck of dust on the scanner
Or a crease in the print out
Sun stains from prolonged exposure to the elements
Or simply from time
Copies never look as good as the original
Even if you try and protect them
And even if you were to magically protect that photo from any external forces
The next copy still won’t be the same quality
A scanner can never pick up every detail from the print on the glass
Copies of copies are never the same
Sometimes the printer is calibrated different
Sometimes it’s a heavy magenta day
Sometimes it’s a saturated cyan day
Maybe you touched her face when you handed it over
And now every copy has a feint of your thumb print above her eyebrow
You had him taped to your rearview mirror for a whole year
And now every copy you make has a glare where the tape used to be
It blocks out his heart shaped hands he was making you from the bus window
Folded in your wallet and now all the copies have white spaces where her face was
I mean where the creases were
I’ve heard that when you remember something you are simply remembering the last time you remembered it
Memories of memories
So that after you’ve remembered her a thousand times you’ve forgotten all the details you forgot to remember the time before
So that the more you remember something, the faster you’ll forget
Maybe that’s why we forget exes faster than family
Maybe that’s why we forget the great parts of high school before the painful ones
I remember that you had red hair, that your eyes were kind, that your hands fit my cheek
I remember that you were bad at pool and that it felt like love, and if it wasn’t you’re the only one that knew it
And now I’m wondering after all these years what I’m forgetting to remember
What I forgot to remember last time
What did I forget this time
What won’t I remember next time
Memories of memories
Like copies of copies
Fading over time
If I never wanted to forget the best moments of my life
Should I never remember them
Is the fastest way to forget the bad ones
To remember them often
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
a fair warning for you
if you are planning to
to fall in love with me
you fall in love with P's
if you fall in love with me
you fall in love with a pessimist
who believes that every single thing will fall apart
every bad thing is bound to happen
so please i ask
help me find the positives
in a world
where negatives are all i see
if you fall in love with me
you fall in love with a paranoid
who breaks almost every night
thinking about how wrong i could be
every choice
every decision
will be the worst one
so please i ask
to accept me
and convince me
that the world is not yet over.
if you fall in love with me
you fall in love with a p-ssy.
a coward
who's afraid to make the first move
who's ashamed to fail.
so please i ask
to wait for me
to be able to overcome my fears.
and lastly,
if you fall in love with me
you fall in love with a poet.
a writer
who's prepared to write everything
and anything
because sadly, that's all i'm good at.
so please i ask
to accept my love
in the form of words
and i will change myself.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
If I were a cup of black coffee you take me just the way I am.
If this were a thanksgiving dinner you'd be the turkey and I'd be the ham.
I'm the water and you're the sea
I'm the sailor and what I really mean is; you complete me.
If this were a battery you'd be the positives and I'd be the negatives.
If I were a holiday you'd be the festive's.
If this were space you'd be the stars that form my galaxy.
If I were a driver in New York, you'd be my taxi.
If I a flower and you the bee, then it's clear to see that what I really mean is; you complete me.
One ways, u-turns, dead ends and yields, green lights, left lane merge and a squashed bug on my windshields.
If I were a Bic ballpoint pen then you would write out every sin.
If this were it, it would be the greatest love there has ever been.
Road signs and paper, fantasies and nature cannot help to say in such a little way that all I try to convey that what I really mean is; you complete me.
If I were a song you'd memorize my lyrics
If this were February 1990 it would be Hold On by Wilson Phillips
If I were a comic book, you'd be my nerd.
If you were a photographer I'd be your bird.
If I a cold night and you the book by a fire, then I'd be the Hobbit and you'd be my Shire.
If I a cup and you the tea then all there is left to say is...
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
birds of a feather
no one has put
two and two
together
daisies gone
Occam’s razor
and he
our common denominator
no monsters under his bed
but in it
scars ripped open
I thought had healed
hurt to heal
heal to hurt
words I had never spoken
out loud before
hot lava
righteous anger
memory loss &
found negatives
was that a kindness?
to ply me with alcohol so that I wouldn't remember?
two weeks
no sleep no eat
hurt to heal
heal to hurt
a new hurt
to contend with
suddenly ghosted
back in the dark
like all dark
eating away at light
till only the stars remain
maybe signalling
to one another
I see you, I see
you, I
see
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 9:20 PM UTC
Get the **** out of my head
Why is it so hard to forget you
Yet all the negatives try to vanish
In an attempt to make me miss you
You were a horrible person
And I can look past what you did to me
But you hurt her too, your best friend
Who does that?
How can one guy convince you to drop your best friend
When I couldn't even get you to ignore the toxic ones
I hear he's controlling now
That's cute
I hope you enjoy how he ***** you
Cause that's all you care about you heartless *****
You left me cause I refused to beat you in bed
Cause I couldn't satisfy your fantasies
Well I hope you realize that
Your addiction will destroy your life
If somehow it hasn't already
You dropped out of college and now you're living on your own
I knew you wouldn't go back if you left
But you had your own plans
Your own agenda to live your life
Trying to get whatever you want
From anyone
You didn't stay because I didn't put up with your ****
I stood up to you when no one else would
And luckily it got me out of a toxic relationship that
I didn't even realize was that bad
First love never dies
Here I am trying to justify
Why I can't get you out of my mind
No matter how hard I try
When I genuinely do not want you
Who I'm with now is so much better
She and I, we build together
Instead of me building for you
Leaving nothing to nurture myself
And you still seem to remove pieces from my wall
Threatening my progress without you
Because why would you do anything different
And I try to remind myself that
You cheated on me
And at least I can sleep
Without the raging guilt
That I hope fills your lungs
And chokes you in your sleep
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Yes I know it's your first language,
But don't let overconfidence get in,
And never let it bring you negatives.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
It's unfortunate that Parisians
Are very hard to bear,
In terms of flash obsequiousity,
They drive me to despair!
And patience is an attribute
I don't profess to have
To mercifully administer
When accents veer to Slav.
Baltics look like jellyfish,
The Germans are obscene
And loud and overbearing
But the Swiss are very clean.
Italians are a swarthy lot
Who gourmandize on food
And sacrifice their suavity
By being impudently crude.
The Spanish are no better,
In fact they are probably worse,
For obsessing in the blood sports
I actually rate them in reverse.
Starchiness is British
They're convoluted to the core,
The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen
Aspirants flock to it no more.
The Yanks are looking slightly crass
Whilst fighting foreign wars,
Their pinky held up squeaky clean
To call "foul" to China's flaws.
China sits inscrutably
Holding all the cards
Waiting for the moment
To strike beneath the guards.
India and Pakistan
Are squabbling like kids
The uproar over Kashmir
Rates them lower than the Yids.
The Yids are walking tightropes
With Iran's nuclear ******
Whilst currying Yank approval,
Eventual bombing is a must.
The Dutch behave so anally
They're always proven right
When faced with rigid negatives
They blanch with haunches tight.
But not the Argentineans
They love to dance and flirt,
To chase the senorita
Cavorting in the scarlet skirt.
The South Pacific's wallowing
They're adrift from World affairs
Oz's self preoccupation
Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares.
Africa's way past comment
Lost to heat and dust,
Warfare, **** and pillage
And the rest decayed by rust.
Eskimos are OK
Clean living on the ice
The population static,
Zer-O pollution's nice!
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
14 April 2009
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 12:08 AM UTC
The poem was inspired by a particular photo of the WT C, and after that by my first visit to the 9/11 Memorial. On the day of 9/11, I was working about a diagonal mile away, and from our windows, we could see people jumping to their death.
Open sky annulled
to bordered lines of
uptown edges,
worldview momentarily
forcibly redefined by
memories of buildings and sadder days,
recollections of pillars of biblical smoke rising
A photograph
makes me look up,
and sit down historically,
need to catch a breath,
to rest mentally,
upon a storied small bridge's steps,
that I well recall,
a disappeared street stoop.
all were rubble then and once
upon that day.
Wear, tear, and older eyes distill perspective,
but the hardy heart is hardly stilled
by the recognizable gray upon
bon vivant gray reflective surfaces of
memories of buildings and sadder days
So today, on a reborn street,
I rest upon reconstituted speckled curbstone,
the city's lowered down ledges,
the city's lowered down-town boundaries,
constantly redrawn, but
nonetheless, always rebuilt from their own
regenerated stony compost,
and the NY passersby doesn't even notice
a man, head in hands,
silently weeping, thinking that:
We throw away so much we should have kept.
We keep so much we should have thrown away.
Lose keepsakes, but keep our mysterious sadnesses
locked away in compartments that open only to
benedictions uttered in ancient tongues.
Make your own list,
be your own curator,
catalogue visions of sophomoric triumphs,
museum mile pile
those early poetic drafts,
be unafraid of memories
raw and ungentrified,
overlaid, buried underneath
postmortem of dust-piles of senior critiques
Finally went downtown to see
where the blessed water falls
into catacomb pits that once
were the foundations
of buildings that ruled the cityscape,
downtown anchors
for a modern city that exists
only because it was built on
million year old granite bedrock
Stone monuments are stolid, discrete.
Memories are of grayed, frayed edge consistency.
Negatives resurrected that survive digitally,
all blend synthetically, layer upon layer,
essence distilled in a single,
black and white photograph
that serves to
disturb complacency,
awaken stilled pain,
reflections suppressed,
are restored
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
Be the Dumbledore of your own life,
Let poetry be there for your mornings.
Write happier poetry in gloomy days,
Do not let the gloom get your better.
Aggressive poetry in frustrated days,
Would surely help drown frustrations.
Leave no space for sadness as a poet,
Create a space for happiness in life.
*I showed the back door to negatives,
Now all is so positive except for ***
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
As your reflection stares back at you, through the misty window pane,
Against the glass the silver rain comes tapping, only weak,
It masks your woe and sorrow -- perhaps it's just the rain?
And not the ballerina tears, that flow and dance upon your cheek.
You feel you live a loveless life, alone, with no one by your side,
A lonely loner, ever scared, no hand to hold or arm to grip,
With nothing to be late for, no ear in which you can confide,
You stand upon an icy peak, but no longer take care not to slip.
Suddenly the image stirs, it blinks and shows it's gentle eyes,
Life has many sides, it says, try looking from a different place,
Sad feelings can't be fought alone -- find happiness and sadness dies,
Stare into my eyes -- look your flaws and demons in the face.
You feel you're not quite normal, you've been different from the start,
Self-conscious of your looks, perhaps you dislike who you are,
But to focus on the negatives is an insult to your heart,
The depth of which is limitless, a loving, glowing, beating star.
You do yourself injustice; desire love, but can't love yourself?
Remember that your differences, are not a flaw or fault,
You're custom made, a work of art, not picked out from the shelf,
Embrace the fact that you're unique, a trait that can't be taught.
Suddenly the image shakes, another face replaces yours,
This person likes you as you are - who'll love you and embrace your fate,
Hold your hand through pain and storms, and follow you to distant shores,
I'll meet you in the future - forever yours, your one soul mate.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
Above my home where the dark clouds
curl into the sky clinging for a home to
rest their sleepy depiction, shadowed
trees hum sweet lullabies, lonely leaves
breathe in the sad song of fallen dimensions,
letting its lifeless view roll upon their frame,
the chilled breeze sailing in the skyline,
as I scramble my way out of a filthy dumpster,
a mountain of disintegrating mess covering
my broken body, hovering flies surrounding
sticky strips of spaghetti, moldy mashed potatoes,
and moldy chicken *** pies, while my mind sunk
into traveled thoughts, bruised hands pressed against
the creases in my forehead, allowing my existence
to feel the stranded scars streaming in various mazes,
dull eyes flushed with a burning disorder, aching cheeks
and chests nestled in darkening chamber corners, buried
hips and thighs uprooting in somber blades of grass,
thorned, torn, and destroyed in different worlds. As I stood
on the slippery pavement staring at the ruffled scenery
in my sight, spinning streetlights thickening into slouched
positions, screaming sidewalks spilling sadness and madness
in the drenched air, razor-edged buildings inching into crushed
centimeters, jumbled meters, ****** yards. I replayed the sober
images in my head, the way my young brown-skinned mom said
I would never amount to anything, how I could hear the raged
noun ****** sift into the distance, its flaming mechanics
accelerating into screeching sounds, the way she hurled
her fists at my smashed face, every vibrant language
breaking apart, slamming shut into closed infinites,
snagged contractions and gerunds diverging into
shuddering double spaced negatives, the way she threw
my lingering body inside the trash dumpster, her sharp
scarlet words, You are no son of mine, ricocheting off
savage surfaces, sparking my soul in a calamity
of choking diction.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
When I was in the fourth grade I didn’t understand magnets.
You told me that they were like a boy and a girl,
that the positives and negatives stuck together,
but with two girls they would just repel.
Repel,
as if the idea of two girls being together was so awful that mother nature herself would come down to pull them apart.
I think about that a lot.
And now I’m standing here in front of you,
the words dancing behind my tongue,
and I am fighting to keep them down.
I want to tell you that I’m finally happy,
that I found someone,
that when I hold her hand I don't want to run.
I want you to know that I love her,
and that I didn't actually know what love was until now.
I want you to know that with her everything is brighter,
and that I take back my feminist rants because if she were my wife I’d always cook dinner.
the love songs I listen to finally make sense,
and hell,
maybe Romeo and Juliet weren't crazy after all.
I know this might be confusing.
But before her I was soil,
And now I’m a bed of roses.
I’m sorry for hiding this for so long.
and now it seems like a college phase,
but if we’re being honest I always knew.
I knew at junior prom when my date’s hand made me recoil.
I knew when I never really hit that boy crazy phase.
and I knew when I saw her,
When we watched a movie on the grass and I laid my head on her shoulder,
and I felt like I was home.
And I’ve tried to change,
if I knew how I would.
When Mom died you said you would always love me.
I hope you meant it,
because I’ve tried to pick between you.
Take you, leave her.
Take her, leave you.
But I can’t.
So please don’t make me.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
Cold hearted people are a cancer to our species
That should be wiped away and flushed like feces
They've divided our minds into little pieces
I'll greet the cold hearted boy who tried to date my nieces, with Hot lead...
A cold hearted person was once a person who cared to much
Once a person turns cold it's hard to change back into who they used to be. They have to let go of the past, and learn how to trust again.
Most people who act heartless have a sweet heart. They just act heartless to protect themselves from getting hurt again.
Life is like a camera...
Focus on whats important,
Capture the good times,
Develop from the negatives,
And if things don't work out,
Take another shot.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
Waiting for the storm
to lower its head and charge
In ozone incense of unstable air
Eons of ions ago
horned and heavy negatives
lock prey within vortical-eye
Angelic flutter of electrons struggling on--
in yellowish friction above...
“...Did I tell you?”
Love is lightning hotter than the sun!
Schism--
resolving in the only way it can
a design that cannot save itself!
Clouds roar away--
For a minute-- I think that I will too
-- along with all these words and rain
*“...and did I tell you...
how thunderstorms remind me
...of love...the way it should be
and the worship after?”*
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
waking with joyful exuberance
choosing what attitude to wear with the day
grey skies call for a sunny disposition
determined to keep negatives away
light streams gently from fingertips
delicately touching others with warmth
surprising them with smiles
unfurling calm in your wake
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
not a poem but something that have been stuck in my head since four years ago
High school was never easy.
Even the happiest person said that they have a bad memories in high school.
They get bullied
Some people would said that I should treasure everything that happened in my high school life.
I know. IVE TRIED SO HARD.
But I cant.
Folks in high school are weird.
Not that weird. They're...... 'weird'..
They're full with hatred
-full with negatives vibes
-full with idk why the heck they want to bad things to other people.
For me, I dont know.
I dont enjoy anything
Everything looks so depressing
Full of hate..
I tell you
I've been trying.
And its my fourth year now
Trying to be positive
Trying to understand everyone in the school
But
I think.. This things cant be help no more.
Everytime I walked into my school
My depression level increase to level 99
My loneliness can be felt..so clear
My self-esteem drop like hell
High school even teach me not to trust everyone.
-people always leave no matter what why when or how.
No wonder some people killed themself
-some kid do selfharm
-some students would ditch school
-some people do drugs just to run away from the school probs
Idk is it just me or what
Oh gosh.. I wish I can just scream at them in their face.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
Such confidence,
To stand as you
Repeling all the cursing
Enduring all the negatives
To be you,
To be different,
Not afraid of the monochrome communities,
Giving opinion that differs from others,
To not bow to the majority,
Just be you.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC