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V Sep 2012
I don't understand why  it is so difficult now
When before it might not have been easy
but it by far was never this bad
I can't hear the whisper anymore
I don't know if I ever will again
Why can't I wake myself up?
I haven't cried in a long time
I haven't truly expressed any type of emotion
except for anger
in a long time
I don't remember myself anymore
I miss a lot of things
If I knew back then
what I was going to be like now
I would run like hell
and try to change a lot of things
Someone once asked a question
"What are some regrets that you live with?"
This is what I would answer with...
I regret the day that I didn't ride my bike anymore.
I regret the day I started wearing make up.
I regret the day i straightened my hair.
I regret the day I didn't wear my retainers.
I regret the day I stopped playing sports.
I regret the day I stopped swimming.
I regret the day I stopped doing gymnastics.
I regret the day I stopped being a kid.
I regret the day my Grandma died and I realized I knew nothing about her.
I regret the day my Grandpa died and I never got to tell him how much I love him.
I regret the days I took for gran-it when I could talk to my mom face to face
I regret the day that I didn't be a little nicer to my brothers.
I regret the day I didn't live up to being the Youth leader I should have been
I regret the day that I decided I wasn't good enough
I regret the day I couldn't look in the mirror and not hate myself.
I regret the day I boxed up my emotions.
I regret the day that I let society take who I was.
I regret the day where I no longer felt important.
I regret the day that I ran away from everything.
I regret the day that I told myself "there is no turning back"
I regret the day that I lost a friend.
I regret the day where I became angry.
I regret the day where I saw my friends turning and there was nothing I could do.
I regret the day the world fell upon my shoulders.
There are so many regrets.
Far more then just this short list.
I'm in a moment of life
where things never seem to get any better.
There are still the same unsolved problems as yesterday
and life still doesn't get any easier.
The best I can do for now,
Is smile,
and pretend like nothing really matters
Justan Rahming Sep 2018
The Sun is so hot
against my protected skin,
the heat is intense and I burn
from the overwhelming waves–
This, I am not made for.

I find the Sun beautiful
and on nicer days
I enjoy her gentile heat,
but the climate of today
had the Sun turn me red.

I curse the Sun
I reject the heat,
but if the sun was to leave,
then the darkness
would make me too cold.
CLARYT Mar 2018
When you,re hiding in a closet,
thinking no one really knows,
and you do the things expected,
lifestyle, hair, hell even clothes,
what,s the point in being someone,
even you can,t recognise,
when the real you is much nicer,
never mind the sad disguise,
shake the cobwebs off and show yourself,
i promise, you,ll feel better,
and the ones who,d diss you,
matter not, tell them "write a letter",
you,re unique, a one off, all your own,
don,t let them tell you different,
you may inspire some other closet dwellers,
how excellent !

(c)[email protected]    (re-edited)
we all struggle to truly be ourselves, from time to time
Donnie Ray Dec 2017
what if there was no war,
no uncanny screaming of the aghast,
no blasphemy of the past ,
nobody had to breathe their last,
No ******* ten years old,
with a vestbomb as their told,
to wear it
As 'their allah  sees it,
how young and bold they are.
No shedding of the tears,
from the eyes that waits ,
for their father and brothers,
and fears that last ,
No blood that shall gear from their mass.
What if there was no soldier to die ,
only You and I,
Together end this solemn execution of the nicer soul,
and be bold enough to give them hope,
draping them in brightest colors of life
and solicit the world to be in it.
What if...............nevermind
These are hoax with no light,
They probably are somewhere in the dark,
For there they would always bark
#war #poetry #world #people
A new year has started now,
And for my new year's resolution,
I'll be nicer to myself.
Most likely i'll fail though,
But well,
Then i'll have another year,
There will be more time.

Time to laugh
Time to write
Time to fail
Time to put on really bad make-up
Time to be with friends and family
Time to watch a movie at 2AM wrapped up in a blanket
Time to eat your grandma's apple pie
Time to sit in a park
Time to play hide and seak
Time to break a chair
Time to hike
Time to love
Time to buy a stupid gift for your very best friend
Time to hug someone
Time to try and make a life-changing decision
Time to listen to music
Time to sit down and stand up
Time to do nothing
Time to stress
Time to hide your feelings and emotions
Time to cry
Time to break
Time to feel nothing
Time to cut yourself
Time to take pills
Time to drink alcohol to drown your problems and
Time to wish you were dead

this just came to my mind at 1AM so i decided to write it, not the best one i wrote. a feedback would be appreciated!
Oh my god,
Stop pretending,
Like hardening your heart makes you strong,
Someone switched up but you're shaking,
And they're off fine while you cry.
You wanted to play so I showed you the game,
Now you're just mad 'cause I won,
But there's no pride in being good at this,
I don't like it either.
When I was a kid I liked it,
I didn't mind being alone,
But now I'm so lonely and I just want a home.
I left mine behind for the light in your eyes,
But you don't even see it,
Your mind is filled up with lies.
You don't want to admit that it's time to grow up,
You could change things right now,
But you're still stuck playing this game that you **** at,
Asserting you can win, and you can both be and have the prize,
While every day you struggle to search for a reason to live,
Other than that you simply won't **** yourself.
Honestly, you'd be better off doing it,
Because all you win from that game is nothing more to lose.
You see, once you die,
There's nothing to lose either,
But at least you'll find the truth,
That you wasted all this time,
Breaking down everything,
And building up nothing.
At last, you'll sit in a place where you can do nothing forever,
Because that's all you really wanted, right?
And to even hear these words would hurt you,
Because the truth is so harsh,
Maybe you should've made it nicer for yourself.
A truth you would actually like,
But you weren't willing to work,
You settled for reality as it was given to you,
Then you created all these lies,
Surrounded yourself with them,
Blinded your eyes with all these illusions,
That, yes, while they look so pretty,
They don't exist,
And you say to yourself,
What the **** were you expecting?
You didn't do anything,
This is what's waiting for you,
I reject nothing,
I refuse to settle,
I will change,
Myself and my world,
Because this one that I live and experience is mine,
And mine alone.
It's on each individual to create their happiness,
And I can be a master.
I was made to be.
I'm not happy alone.
I got what I wanted from that.
Now I'm ready to have friends and family and company.
All are welcome.
It just takes work to get here.
The cool part is that the work is fun,
And the reward is even greater.
It lasts forever and it never goes away,
It gives you confidence and pushes you forward,
And you can always look back and remember,
This is how I got where I am now,
Every success  is a landmark,
That no  matter which one you're looking for,
It's always standing out,
And it feels so great to look back,
And see every single one in perfect light and clarity,
And follow the trail up to where you are now,
And you remember how great and amazing you are,
How beautiful you are,
How perfect you are,
You fall in love with yourself,
You love yourself,
You take care of yourself,
You give everything to yourself,
You see that in that,
You also give to everyone around you,
Everyone gets everything,
Everyone can be happy,
I will get here without you.
If you choose not to join,
I'll still make the journey myself.
But you have no idea,
I wish more than anything,
That you would come with me.
Emma Ottinger Jun 2018
She says she doesn’t have the strength within herself to write poetry.
Yes, her. The one who so often nourished me with song
til my soul began to learn how to hunt for itself,
whose word carried weight in leading me to pick my own instrument,
albeit one of a different tone,
as the key in keyboard became prominent for the first time
and the sound of purposeful fingers upon it could be considered,
only in the right light,
synonymous to the plucking of strings, just as rooted in emotion.

Yet she's the first to say that she herself can't do it.

Thing is, I suppose we’re politely at odds on the matter.
She favors poetry that’s sharper, with a cleaner cut,
that’s message is immediate and jarring
as a conduit running from soul through skin,
or a loose-lipped diary finally freed from lock and key.
And when she declared it, I started to consider what my poems seem to me:
Blackberry bushes (but kinder, I hope)
that snag and immerse just long enough
to make me feel I’ve had an effect.
I’ve used writing to expel my most gnarled feelings
to any passerby who’s maybe felt the same.
Like crying in a mirror:
alarming, but oddly refreshing,
and an indefinite reminder that our aches are never only our own.

Still, I'm not sure why it blows my mind
to hear that even the most glamorous hearts,
who wear confidence as a summer breeze that's always in their favor
and who inspire, from beau gestures to sleight of hand,
are included in those who find themselves pacing back, back and forth,
begging curbside at the dime store
for a scrap of the same feed that convinces a heart to pump ink.

But she says that any art that's enjoyed is worth it.
So while she seeks out words that bare the bones,
I’ll stay and make a meal of the marrow,
hollowing them so that the poetry may have a rightful place
to reverberate as hymns in a universal monastery.

But hell, like I’m any old soul.
I dress nicer than I otherwise would,
turn to the mother who told me I don’t meet her lowest standards,
and ask for a critique.
All for the moment when she greets me at the door with a legendary G#.

...Now please, could you spare a dime?
Dedicated to Elise, who, when faced with my tangled mouthful of flattery, somehow saw through to the part of me that’s actually worth a ****.
Marya123 Mar 18
I don't know how to believe
That there'll be a kinder time
With something good to receive
A hill easier to climb.
Oh it's just a waste of hours
Thinking it'll soon be nicer
Fate has stripped me of my powers
While I grow none the wiser.
If anyone's reading this
Tell me it will be okay
That there is a unique bliss
After my fears go away!
I remain stuck in a hole
The world's always moving on
This night, I ask, with all my soul:
Will I ever see a dawn?

There was a loud

Fred was dead.

Busy swimming through

He was doing the front crawl.

Which was surprising as he
couldn't swim.

Our Jim could swim.
But me and Fred - never.

But here he was
swimming through earth.

With only half a face.
The other half was just blood.

His one eye
wide open.

As if eternity
had appeared in front of him.

When the bomb blew
the world to smithereens

I believed I was dead

But I wasn't.
More's the pity.

What was death like
you ask.

it was like...
It was like. . .

Being nothing.

Then it was like
my mother's perfume.

And there she was
recreated by lilacs..

A perfume version of her
carved out of the air.

I swear.
Everything went white.

It was as if the world
had been erased.

Then the earthandtreesandfields
rushed back into my eyes.

As if there were in a hurry
and could only exist in

my seeing

That's when I seen our Fred
already half buried

swimming through the earth
as if he thought he could have

made it
the poor wee ******.

A nicer lad there

I would have cried
if there were tears.

But there were
no tears.

No tears.

I was furious I had

Then I thought
just casual like.

"This should get me back
to Blighty like!"

When they found me
("Hey this one's still alive!")

I was trying to swim
through the earth.

"Hang on Fred!" I said.
"I'm coming.
ACAC Dec 2018
hold on, wait, what, what similarities?

I sit in the group looking around, the grey plastic chair crushes my ******* spine as I cling to it for dear life.
the tutor comes to me last, two weeks in a row I don't get time to talk.
great, I'm already an outsider, now I don't get time to talk.

I listen as the group in the nicer, cosier and brighter room next door laugh and joke.
they are all young and pretty, a feeling of longing pulls me down like a giant magnet, why am I not in that group. have I not got the skills to be young and pretty anymore?

for almost one month now I despair.
how can I ever find my voice in this group there are all so strong, strong women.
this week she comes to me first, I speak, it doesn't help. can they even see me, understand my accent, it seems I'm more different than similar.

the next week I don't go, avoidance wins 1st place gold trophy as I sit alone in bed.
with other groups I'm so strong and proud, can I fake it next week, or maybe just conform and comply.

and so it goes on, am my question remains, what ****** similarities?
I don't laugh much
But when I do
My soul is tickled black and blue
Not pink
Let's put a few in ink
And leave the kitchen sink
Ok buddy
Now here they go
Why aren't you nicer to girls?
I've seen love in women's eyes when I speak truthfully and cheerfully
But glee is as rare as a leprechaun family
Dancing under a lunar eclipse
On a galaxy of four leaf clovers
On a snowy day in hell
If you're ringing my bell
And actually I don't believe in hell or god
But I'll still say go to hell
Or god proceeded or followed with my expletive of choice
Spoken with a calm monotone voice
That's my choice
When it comes to my voice I've been mocked
Because of dejected tone plenty of times
So when any pretty lady says she likes it
I just laugh in her cute little face
Now label me a grade A+ A-hole
What a disgrace
I've been asked a billion times over
Why haven't you done more with your life
You don't have kid's or a wife
Because the brain was consumed by children who weren't mine
Not even a lover's
At least I could've gotten some *** out of it
But sadly she's just my sister
****** doesn't give me a *****
Why don't you like to give me hugs
She'll usually catch a silent shoulder shrug
Because I've lost everything I've built
Cared about them more than myself
Now they're gone
Here's another
Son you need to set some goals
When that's the very reason I've been kept awake
for multiple days at a time
Catching cat naps in between
Years blend together just like the days
In a continuous haze
Living with thoughts
While running from them
However it's just a maze
When you finally find the opening
Just teleports you back to the start
Oh now that's art
Truly beautiful
Scratching my head
Until there's imprints of cuticles
On my scalp
Here's the last joke that leaves me stunned
When beautiful women laugh and joke at my appearance
But at times I hear
Oh he's actually cute or ****
It's just a haircut and a shave and a bathe
I'm still me
And these thoughts vex me
Like someone put a hex on me
Because I want someone to call mine
But why can't you accept me
Whether I'm polished or not
Because notably usually it will be
**** it.
Each day is a fun-filled romp through prison in your garden of ****
problematic promises & promising problems. You were nicer when
you had wider dentures. The choppers that you got in now don't fill
out your mouth, and: you shouldn't mow so much below the tropic-
al line. Give your curls a breather, a day to wrap around each other.
Poetic T Jan 9
Every breath is a balloon
    rising and floating away.

We never hold onto them,
as its nicer to watch
                         them soar.

And who want to hold on,
  when we have our
           feet on the ground.
And can watch them dance in the air.
Watching your breath in the crisp air :)
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