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everyday is a grind
and then cease fire for a day
and dine upon Friday's holy bread
just to fall in a hazy slumber.

The awakening wind
makes your chest rise
and your lungs sit back.
Rome wasn't build in a day,
it also did not fall in one.
Rose Who Knows Oct 2018
Treading water
so calm and peaceful
tranquil water



as if the water was flowing
to the tempo of my heart


my tranquil waters are disrupted
something is not right
the water slides past my ears
I am jostled out of my daydream

the ripples turn into waves
they want to engulf me
feel me tumble in their depth
and feel me gasp for
I am in my last semester of college and this is how I feel.
xavier thomas Aug 2018
Where do I even begin......I can start off with a prayer.
Lord thank you for your mercy, your grace, your love, & each beautiful race.
Thank you for the opportunity and the message
Thank you for the Angels and blessing

“when are we gonna meet,
why did this happen, am I missing what you’re showing me, how can I handle this situation I don’t know nothing about, is this a life lesson, Am I able to make it too heaven , does the Bible answer all my questions, who’s my future fiancé?”

I ask a lot of questions when I don’t understand your work
Don’t take it the wrong way Father, I’m admiring your worth
Constantly stay in prayer for you as the Devil lurks
The temptation is real , one slip up & you’re hurt
Two battles will collide soon , heaven vs hell , Who has the strongest turf?
The rapture is coming, so it’s almost time to Rehearse

Thinking before & after I choose my decisions
Never a broken being in prison, to focus on the mission
Now that I’m older, I’m driven to become a better Christian
Forgive me Father I need you to listen, each day I’m receiving better wisdom

Childhood days: My uncle tried to convince his nephews that We’re better without a woman
Sharing his knowledge due to his mistakes, half of us bought it....
Mom always told us not to pay attention cause he was fallin
Family is a trip, pray to jesus for his soul, that’s my callin....

2016-My last relationship, she wanted to be in love
Seemed very simple & easy + she was my personal angel from above.
Things were going good with very high promise that a man can dream of
Til the baggage & trust issues came out of her, my spirit told me to “Wake up”.
Beginning & ending of Arguments , fights, along with giving up
I continue to live, yet feeling like I’m the one that messed up.
Greed became a major goal of hers vs just us
But She wanted more & more from me cause it wasn’t enough.
Time pass & Two-Separate paths showed after the break up
I left it alone cause it was too much to overcome.
Both Gemini with almost similar personalities, but listen up
Til this day, I sometimes hold her in my heart as my own beloved.

Nowadays, people talk like they know somethin
Think they know their worth, but they don’t know nothin
Calling each other “The God”, and that’s how they feel
Trying to get a piece of shine, social media, that’s not a meal
This generation wanna have fun, that’s a fun fact
Getting turnt up, but never pays attention to the impact
Or how it may affect their lives for the future
This new wave is strong like a Brain tumor

More then ever it’s time to get myself together
Im ready to start a family, yet I know I have a few more “stay single” moments with whomever
Don’t judge me cause I’m living life to my fullest experience this semester
It’s an adventure that we all go through, won’t last forever

So Every morning I beg God for his mercy.
As he challenge my intelligence on this new journey.
Cause my own mind gets me in trouble, try not to worry.
I’m 24 now & before you know it I’ll be 30.
This poem is for everyone & how many questions we ask ourselves + God while growing up. I hope you like this poem. Sorry if it’s long lol
rook Jul 2017
i dont think you know how much i lost for you.
through halls and streets and night beats,
through wireless connections and the realization
of pencil in a high school year book.

the words won't come.
i see the pictures, hear the conversations;
think of first semester exams and games we played
and the promises you made me break

you and the air and the mattress we shared
witches in the background as i throw up for you again.
Brie Pizzi Dec 2017
To the people who think education majors have it easy,

Nothing, and I truly mean nothing, gets under my skin more than people who have the same mindset as you.
People like you think that my 3.8 GPA isn’t as worthy as someone else’s in a different major.
People like you think education majors can’t possibly be as stressful as other majors.
People like you think that my 40-page unit plan doesn’t even begin to compare to your 40-page report.
People like you think that teaching is easy.

it's *******.

I’m not going to sit here and go into detail about all of the difficult assignments I’ve had over the past four years as a middle school math major because frankly you’re just not worth my time. Also, because that would mean that I have something to prove to you, and I don’t. You can’t begin to judge a major until you have sat in on their classes, done their assignments, took their tests, etc. So, for you to judge my major based solely on the fact that I’m teaching children makes you arrogant and ignorant.

Imagine the excitement you feel when you get an A on an exam you spent days studying for. Now imagine that same excitement being stripped away from you in a second because someone tells you that your major is easy and that that’s the reason you got such a good grade.
Imagine working your **** off to earn Dean’s List every semester you’ve been at school, for someone to turn around and tell you that the only reason you’ve achieved that is because of your easy major.

It’s hurtful.

I chose to become a teacher because I want to take part in shaping children’s minds. I want to take part in making students grow up enjoying math. I want to take part in making learning fun.  
I don’t think that is something I’ll ever regret, no matter how many times you try to bring me down.
Please just focus on your own major. Focus on your own difficult assignments, your own difficult tests, and your own difficult projects, that way you can truly strive for success.

And I’ll still be here, an education major, cheering you on.

A future teacher.
Ben McDermott Dec 2015
It's that time of year again,
the time we all know is coming,
and start thinking about the weather changes,
to frosty mornings and amber trees.

After a day of feasting,
avoiding questions from nosy relatives,
the nipping wind sends a chilling reminder,
that the time is almost here.

It's the night before,
everyone's eaten and
we rush off to bed,
but some can't sleep,
and stay up late into the night,
trying to find a hint of what's coming.

Then the next day comes,
where everyone wakes up,
and rushes down.

They shovel down their breakfast,
and check their bags to make sure they have everything,
then it's time for the surprise.

The surprise everyone has been waiting for,
everyone anxiously waiting,
with an eerie silence that hangs like a dense fog,
only broken by the sounds of paper being flipped around.

Some go through it quickly,
while others take their time.
When they finish,
there are shouts of joy and happiness.

And once it's all over,
everyone sleeps and relaxes.

The time has past,
until the end of the next semester.
Okay, so I tried. And I wasn’t enough. To capture your mind, or heart, or ****, or whatever it is that she captured.

Okay, so I tried. To talk. And you wouldn’t respond. With full sentences. Okay,

Okay, so you miss her. And I ask about it so you tell me. But would you rather stay silent? What do you want? Don’t involve yourself with me. Don’t start this if you don’t wanna do anything but start it.

Finish it, because I can’t. Because I am already in too deep. Because I have felt the end coming many times and waited and waited and waited for it to end but you won’t let it.

Okay, so you don’t care.

Okay, so there is an awkward silence and you laugh harder at some other girls’ joke than you do at mine. Okay, so you are uncomfortable and you get up and you walk away. So you don’t listen to my problems or ask about how I am even though I asked about you. Even though I care. So you started this and you don’t care. So finish it.

Okay, so, you don’t have much of a personality. Okay, so you’re a tough egg to crack. She did. And I won’t. You don’t want me to. You just like starting things. Maybe you don’t know you’re starting them.

So, I don’t understand you like she does, so you don’t even try to connect. Maybe if you gave me answers longer than 2 words I could find out who you are. Maybe, if you just tried. Maybe, if you just ended it and never spoke to me and pretended I didn’t exist, then maybe it would be over. And I would be happy. Not happy.

Okay, so. I love you and I don’t want you to finish it. But I wish it hadn’t started. Because the truth is, it only started for me. So, okay, so.

Okay, so you miss her and as I sit across the table from you and search for the words to make you feel at home you scowl and remember her smile and body and mind. Okay, okay, okay. So I’m delusional.

So, I tell you about how I'm lonely and you do not respond. I say I feel sad and you remain indifferent. So, you don't wanna hear problems that aren't hers because only she is real to you, I guess, emotionally. And other girls who aren't her, are real to you, physically. And I guess, so, I guess I am neither.

A friend? I want to end it. That isn't what I wanted.

Okay, so I guess I have to end it, since you have nothing to end. Okay, so. This is me ending it.

Okay, so...

It will never be over for me.
Is it over for you?
I keep forgetting it never began.

this only hurts me.
Akela Santana Oct 2014
Take me back to June 12th, the day we first hung out together, drinking beers and ***** shots, singing karaoke to Green Day, Michael Jackson and the out of place Lady Gaga at our favorite bar called Villains.

Take me back to all those days we'd hang out at Milk Coffee Bar and laugh at horrible things like the Columbine Shootings or the 9/11 attacks and *** smokes off our mutual friend Jean; drinking beers and listening to horrible local indie bands play their horrible, airplane sound/ white noise, indie music.

Take me back to "the perfect 90's couple".

Take me back to the first time I kissed you by accident, causing the caterpillars in my stomach to induce metamorphosis, letting the butterflies to spread their wings for the first time.

Take me back to the first time we slept together, with no ***. You caressing my back, me slipping into a peaceful slumber to the sound of your heart beating, a sound I've never heard before.

Take me back to July 10th, the day we told each other we liked the other and I talked you into asking me out.

Take me back to the time you said I was worth it.

Take me back to the nights we'd stay up till 4 in the morning talking about nothing in particular or talking about everything and anything that came into our heads.

Take me back to the day we were on my front porch and I said "I love you, you're funny" and you replied "I love you too".

Take me back to the first time we had ***, making love, and you made fun of my blushing and called it cute.

Take me back to your birthday party I can barely remember because I drank so much and you ended up taking care of me and checking my pulse to make sure I was okay.

Take me back to our first official date at Bubi's where I dressed up for you for the first time and was so nervous I could've ****** myself.

Take me back to the talks we would have about moving in together, or when I was sad that you didn't want kids and I did so you said "I might hate children but I would consider having children with you".

Take me back to the Loop where I showed you I could be stupid and dance like a fool.

Take me back to the Cards Against Humanity game where I showed you I can be a bad *** girl and make you laugh at my dumbassery.

Take me back to Korey's end off summer party where I got to watch you fail at the NHL game and record your cute silliness  when you actually scored.

Take me back to when we started to drift apart because you had to go back to University to start the semester, where I should've suggested staying over for weekends even if you had to study.

Take me back to when I got depressed and said "I have no reason to live" and made you think you weren't good enough for me to stay, even though that was far from the truth. You were my only reason.

Take me back to when you needed some space and time to think.

Don't take me back to when you broke up with me.

Take me back to when you wanted to give it another shot.

But don't take me back to when you decided to break up with me again.

**It's been years since then, and all I can say is that, I loved you. I'm glad we could've dated, cause you showed me what love was, even though we didn't last, and for that I am grateful. Thank you, Nektarios.
Something I had to write. This Is about my ex boyfriend Nick.

I just want him to be happy......
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
I seriously can't stop thinking and
It's killing me
High school and last semester man
What happened to me?
What happened to that person afraid of nothing?
My anxiety gets the best of me now
And I never leave the **** house.

I see that bonfire and how much fun we had
The weird *** cupcakes we made
and I know we tricked some of them
but I don't remember how.

It's the music man
Takes me back everywhere
Maybe that's why I love it so much
It takes me away from the present and puts me some place else
I'm so alone though
And I can't take it.

Why do I even think about the last house?
It was ****** and
the people ******
but I guess it was cheap.

I feel so broke and broken
I don't know how to cope
And I don't wanna bring anyone new into my life
Because it's just the same **** over and over again
They come in interested,
Realize I'm ****** up,
And leave.

She keeps me safe
My heart and my sanity
Having a routine in an unroutine way
Makes everything so much better
Less freak outs
Less pain
So many less break downs through leaking eyes

I love her so much but I don't know what I'm doing
or who I am.

I'm so scared
I'm not sure of what
but I know I am.

I wanna move home
For the first time in my life.

I want to go live with my mom
and truly give up on life.
july hearne Jun 2017
i met him in 1989 in a study hall class
and haven't forgotten him since.

a month ago,
i found out he had died in 2014.

the girls liked him
he'de tell me what was playing on his walkman
so i listened, learned, put a penny in an envelope
and mailed it off to columbia house

some weeks later i received my 12 cassette tapes.

i quit eating and got creative with eyeliner.
i memorized a lot of cure lyrics and went to study hall

the semester ended and we weren't in the same
study hall class anymore. he ended up transferring to another school.

but i still had hope.
i had memorized so many lyrics.
i had gotten my hair cut into an inverted bob
and learned how to dye it black.

it felt like anything was possible
and it felt so good.

the next year
i transfered to the other school, but he wasn't there anymore.

the year after that
i transfered to an even worse school
he was there


soon after that,
emily became his girlfriend

one day, i ran into them at the park and ride
as i was getting off the bus

we spent the night on the sidewalk
outside of emily's dad's house.
none of us were allowed to go inside,
not even emily.

but emily managed to sneak inside
and stole a jug of homemade alcohol,
which we did not call moonshine.

emily fell asleep with her head in his lap
while we talked, smoked three packs of cigarettes (all mine), and drank the homemade alcohol that her dad had made.

emily wanted to be a fashion designer.
he really believed in emily and her drawings.

the sun came up

and i caught a bus home.

we both ended up
dropping out of highschool.
Zachery Nov 2018
My inbox is broken and me and my friend communicate through that way exclusively as she doesn´t have her phone at the moment. So... can we like please just get it fixed. Can ya´ll please send this to hello poetry. I really need it fixed before the end of the semester... Thats when she moves... PLEASE HURRY AND FIX IT!!!!!
Carter Ginter Jan 2018
I didn't lie to you
Everything I said was true
At least in that moment of time
I told you back then
Even if I believed in soulmates
I don't believe in only one
If I remember right
You agreed

Our feelings thrived through 5 years
When we didn't say a word to each other
That's definitely something special
And I'm not saying my feelings have changed
But my place in life has

Yes I'm polyamorous
But that's not why we didn't work
Sure, maybe I could've tried harder
But I felt trapped and couldn't breathe
Even though we weren't close
You needed me constantly
Which was fine until the pressure caught up to me

I'm not blaming you
I was there for you 1000% at first
Then I stopped trying so hard
You thought I was giving all my attention to her
She thought I was giving all my attention to you
I should've been giving more attention to me
Because life was killing me

Working full time
And trying to survive the semester
Now add that to the balancing of two relationships
Plus an ex who acted like Jekyll and Hyde

Imagine trying to address
The intense emotions you had
Plus those of my ex
And those of my other partner
Let alone my own feelings throughout it all
That's a lot to handle
And yes I dug my own grave with it
But I figured it'd be worth it in the end

You seem to think that
I'm some unstable person who
Tears everyone down with me
But, even in these last few months
I've grown and changed so much
And I'm finally learning how to make myself happy

I stopped starving myself and joined a gym instead
I am practicing mindfulness to understand myself and the world
I learned how to talk myself down from my feelings
I finally feel comfortable being myself
Radical as **** but still sensitive
I can finally exist alone and at peace

As for believing in reconnection
It's not just 'us' involved anymore
That's where people seem to forget
Both you and my ex seem to expect
That I can't just make these decisions
Without thinking too much about the others

I understand why
You'd hope my present relationship will fail
But I've grown a lot as a person
I've learned more about myself
And what I want and need

With her there is no co-dependence
There's open communication
There's honesty and transparency
That doesn't mean it's 'better'
I am not degrading ours in any way
It does mean it's different though

So how can I reenter a relationship
That was definitely unhealthy in some ways
After realizing what healthy means?
Despite all of my love for you
Despite how much I care
We can't be more than friends right now
Because anything else would hurt us both

If our souls do meet in
Whatever world exists next
Then you can slap me silly
But right now this is what's best
Antino Art Aug 18
I am the only Asian in this bar right now.
Be my friend!
I will check the box of your social diversity quota.
Granted, I only speak a mispronounced fraction of
my immigrant parents' native tongue.
Ala Jackie Chan, I do not understand the words coming out the mouths of anyone on that massive continent (Russia included) that I appear to be more or less from.
But, I do eat spaghetti with chopsticks.
I am mystical as
fox, or Kitsune, in Japanese folklore.
I can hit you with wisdom worthy of a fortune cookie as fast as Google can tell you that the Philippines is nearly 2000 miles away from China. I want to say I'm from an exotic island where they play basketball in sandals and drink soda from plastic bags- like, A-level material you could make a movie out of in Slumdog Millionaire fashion and get awarded for your orientalized portrayal of poverty you think is three worlds away from home. But nah, I'm just a kid from South Florida. The suburbs. I played basketball on paved driveways in high top Reeboks and oversized And1 shorts. But I do pump both fists in the air watching Manny Pacquio PPV fights on a bootleg stream. Beyond that, I'm probably the worst Asian there is. Not the crazy rich kind with a PHd in something scholarly. I dropped out of engineering after one semester and cannot solve a rubix cube. I never learned kung fu. Though I'm learning what it takes to face the adversity of becoming a single father after my daughter's home broke in two. I write marketing proposals to pay the rent and poetry to fight without fighting in the spirit of Sun Tzu. My eyes do not slant in the direction of your narrative. I once ran in a pick up game in the hood where they dubbed me Yao Ming. Yao, I am 5 foot 8. Though I fall short of expectation, I can still check your diversity box on the way down and do a cool pen spin after to punctuate my intellectual prowess. I also happen to own an assortment of Japanese swords made in China, which I intend to use as heirlooms. This is what cultural colonization looks like: me, in a bar, the last samurai standing confused in an age of melting pots, Korean tacos and Asian slaw made by corporate imposters with names like PF Chang. What in the slaw is Asian? I wish I knew!  I wish I knew the true value of my heritage to be worthy of carrying it on. Like the way my grandfather, on his first visit to America, planted a Malonggay tree in our backyard whose leaves my mother would pick and boil to make tinolang manok -the Filipino version of chicken soup- as a weeknight staple on our dinner table. I can barely soft boil an egg for instant ramen. Or how my father left home to work in a furniture moving sweatshop for under the table wages just to follow my mother across the ocean when she became the first in her family to land a dollar paying job that would give me the opportunities she never had. Or how my motherland's socioeconomic gap tooth smile is so wide that it drove over 10 million of its native sons and daughters off its shores to find work overseas as servants on cruise ships and hospitals to feed the families they barely get to see. To follow their trail blazing footsteps, let me be the second generation tipping point where some form of cyclical tradition breaks. That way, I can raise my daughter free of predefined scripts. So as the worst Asian in this or any bar, cheers:
to being the first of a new kind.
No need for blanket statements
To keep you warm at night
A fraction of a volcano
Is all we need to be reminded
Of the sweetest things in life
We sow the seeds of discontentment
And select our portion of the heavens
Because when it rains it pours
And when you're ****** you snore
As loud as a thousand sleeping serpents
Disenchanted on a semester out at sea
Feel free to dramatize your shadows
And create your own cages
You can decorate them with candles
But portraying fear is not the answer
We may personify victory as a dancer
Until we are all cantankerous old shadows
And flaming arrows land on our papers
We are out of place like sand in a limo
I birth poems for Eros
Images appear in your rear-view mirror
You are my hero
Imagination is a flavor
That I would love to explore
You are the color of my endurance
And if our performances are frozen
Then we'll have no more gas for the fire
Tonight let's get a little closer
And tell the stories of our ancestors
Only your magic highlighter
Could turn all of these
Strange words into poetry
Marya123 Sep 4
It's been years since I wrote like this about what I'm feeling but it's been a tough night so here goes-

It's the start of the semester and I can't help but have this feeling of impending doom, like all my fears might just come true..

That this addiction I've been battling with for years might just bring me down. That I'm alone in fearing it, because it's not what you'd expect, and it's utterly uncommon. That I might just succumb to not reaching out to people and just fail altogether. And so many more fears..

I just feel really scared, sad and hopeless right now. The person whom I've always confided in has become something unfamiliar, that I don't recognize, and I feel sort of.. misplaced. I don't want to ruin my life but I might just be in the way of doing that. And I suppose writing this was a way of just putting this miserable mess of feelings out there. Trying to make it leave my body for good.

I don't want my penchant for introversion, as a shy person, to become the loneliness that might just destroy me. I'm afraid it's halfway there.

I don't think I have the strength to do this... i don't know if I can. It *****, feeling this small, cowering under the weight of all the fears hitting your brain at once in the middle of the night.

Most of all, I'm afraid I won't ever get over the addiction, and live my whole life battling it, fail and just... wither away. I don't know if I can because it has influenced and defined so much of the girl I am today. Both good and bad things. That's why it's hard to give it up.

Thank you to whoever reads this, have a great day!
Skaidrum Jan 2016
"Take your crimes and medication."

Pill one.
I have come to loathe eating.
Countless days pass without a morsel of food,
typically weeks without a real full meal.
I find it remarkable, really;
that my sense of taste and hunger became living corpses
that linger within my mouth like something died on my tongue.
I have a few options at this point but here's my choice~~
~~leave the silverware clean, bare and cold---
it's purest when cold.
I don't even know why I am not hungry.
I never thought I'd see the day where I'd decline the offer on raspberries.
(They always will be my favorite...)
Now, my ribcage blooms like a garden~
~rib bones that beg to flower through
the soil that is my skin.
Skeletons don't sit at the dinning table because
starving is a special kind of beautiful.
Yet this is oddly okay to me.
And when I do dare to silence it,
the mild sting of hunger that pulls you like the moon;
It's regret that's delivered in a bullet or two.
Disgust crawls up my spine and drags nails along
the lining of my stomach.
Don't eat that, it's poison.
Rejection becomes my immediate releif.
Family and friends can't help but worry
Eyes flicker to the length of my waist,
voices question my weight when I'm lifted
the subtle stare at how my bones scream against snowy skin.
I don't blame them or the rumors;
I know I am skinny, and I know am empty.
I just don't want to eat anymore...
I am so sorry for that.
(Am I supposed to be sorry for that?)

Pill two.
Don't ask me if I got any sleep.
The answer will always be "no", or "not enough."
I was diagnosed two years ago with insomnia.
You don't know what suffering is until
you can't ******* sleep.
I didn't think it was that bad,
boy, I must've been related to ignorance.
It's torture watching the world never press pause.
My record is six nights and seven days, almost a full week
Caged myself in because my thoughts
were killers for freedom.
Why can't I sleep?
Here's the catch though;
I don't like sleep either.
No comfort calls your name,
not when you can remember every dream you've had since
the year 2009.
I don't have happy dreams, for those of you that do not know.
They call this disease hyper-realistic dreaming,
it's something my doctor hesitates to openly discuss.
(They don't have the answers to my mother's panicked questions or my father's accusing glare.)
They're terrified of the unknown too.
The concept of dreaming in such detail,
of every person place or thing
isn't exactly treatable
Fun fact:
I talk to the dead sometimes.
You know, people who have passed away.
They tell me it's the regrets that ******* you behind your back.
Hyper-realistic dreaming is absolute madness.
Pretty sure wonderland doesn't look any different than
the waking realm.
The word nightmare,
yeah, I don't like using it.
It visits whether I'm awake or not.
Doesn't make a ******* difference.
But the doctors only care about my insomnia.
Figures, I mean.
"It's just a sleeping sickness, strong medication should fix it."
Rest has become a form of torture for me.
I'm sorry for whatever I did to deserve this.

Pill three.
Speaking of torture,
I own 19 scars that I never asked for.
My father is responsible for 18 of these scars.
Abuse is just a 5 letter word.
Funny how death sits lightly in 5 letters.
Pain is just a 4 letter word.
Oh look, so does life.
I've been waiting for salvation but I know I'm not worthy.
My father is the root of my depression.
I am his flawed design and greatest disappointment.
"YOU *******----"
hands crash into my lungs
nails engrave wounds like some sick reminder
you don't need to remind me
I already know what I've done wrong
please dad, don't hit me

Yet instantly I hit the floor harder than any stone does.
I cry quietly, forcing the sobs to talk the language of silence.
If he knows I'm suffering it'll only make it worse.
Praise is something that does not pass his lips.
"You're ******* worthless, you **** girl."
Insults act like vultures that never quite leave our house.
"You stupid blonde *****, DO IT RIGHT."
My grades weren't high enough to please his highness.
(I had a 3.975 GPA this semester.)
"I can't wait to watch you fail."
A disgusting disgrace of a daughter that's never going to fill the shoes of "enough."
There are so many times where I have been punished for
my "crimes",
kicked, beaten, scratched, sliced, man-handled, hit, and bruised..
I don't think it's fair to name the rest.
It's all an act of order to obtain my obedience.
The secrets within these walls sneer at me~~
~~how unfortunate that our walls are white.
You see blood is a hard stain to remove and red likes
to leave the ghost of orange upon the white paint.
I don't think you understand,
that this has been happening ever since I was his little 7 year old.
Or, you know, maybe longer.
Oblivion flew south and reality crawled in long ago.
You can't just chase reality out,
she's a force of nature that takes the life out of all of us.
I have been a victim to my father for as long as I can remember.
An example of the cycle of abuse continues tonight;
Tonight my father told me,
"I wish you were dead."
That can be arranged, dad.
You don't know pathetic until you've seen me lying there
after the aftermath that was my most recent "mistake",
clutching the ground like maybe if I pretended enough
it would hold me.
They tell me it's just the alcohol talking.
That all of this was his own father's doing.
My dad had it "so much worse."
I'm sorry your father hurt you, dad
I'm sorry you feel like you have to hurt me.

Pill four.
My wounds make their homes beneath my heart,
six inches to left, furrowing downwards.
This is the nerve that throbs in death's long fingers.
False strength will save those who you love.
Good thing I "believed" I was strong.
It's a ******* joke.
I'm not strong.
I am a white angel dressed in lies.
Yet there I was;
Standing with perfect posture as the universe
and my friends stacked their troubles
up my trembling shoulders and back.
Nicknames spilled off their tongues,
I was proud of these titles that I don't actually deserve.
I am the psychiatrist.
The Healer.
The Caretaker.
The Mother
The Saint
The Kind Maiden
The Helper
The Keeper of the Dragons
The Poet of the Wolves
The Moon Warrior
The moonlight weeping through the willow branches;
The Person Who Fixes Everything
The Wise Guardian Angel.
How couldn't they notice I was nothing divine.
Plucking them from the coffins of depression and despair
that they laid themselves to rest in.
It is no easy task.
And sometimes this means their words are
the gashes to glide down my arms and sides,
blood making the puddles at my feet.
Physical pain is bearable when it's for them.
Again we revisit the word
As they are humans and they practice this sin
upon me.
I accept the harm with no self-defense.
Because I was cursed to love them.
Even the ones,
that reek desolation upon my soul.
They have all gone for the **** before.
You can take it out on me,
I will balance your burdens.
"Let me help you..."
I'm sorry you're hurting, I'm here for you
I'm sorry I became like this?
(I definitely am not supposed to apologize for that.)

Pill Five.
I have a past lover, she is my Wolf Girl.
I have learned to love her like ambrosia in a bottle.
It doesn't matter that I am no longer her lover...
She is and always will be my best friend.
We once talked about our friendship like a legend.
One man that went off to war,
and how he left his loyal dog behind.
The loyal dog waited for his master until the man returned from service and suffering;
the dog's love never swayed.
For many years they remained apart and alone
paths refusing to entertwine,
but once reunited they picked their relationship up and continued like nothing had ever separated them to begin with.
We never decided who the dog or the man was.
But we both have always known.

I hold her responsible for saving me, and uncovering
the remains of a silver child.
She ripped my heart open to expose the stitches and raw emotion;
below my feet sung the wolves,
along my collarbone perched the stars.
The moon basked in my skin when she told me,
You are beautiful.
I knew she was lying but I still forced those words down my throat,
swallowing the growing flame of black lies.
To this day I will never forget,
even if she has forgotten.
I don't see a reason to hurt, I knew I was unworthy to begin with.
Sifting through a jar of ashes I found our memories,
the day we first met, first became best friends...
She was the wolf and wasn't afraid to bite the hand that fed her.
That was how she taught me to survive,
Trust me when I say I learned more than just survival.
Casting a glance at the past 5 years I recall
what the value of strength was.
She lent me her own,
~so I bargained my way to the heavens~
a prayer for the day I would become a goddess of divinity-------
---- I found out Naïve was my middle name.
The demons found me and I had no fangs to sharpen,
so they tied me to a willow tree.
There I was possessed, and hung by my wrists,
humiliation and weakling branded into my ankles.
"This is how we put dreamers in their place!"
Is what the shadows screamed in octaves of smoke.
And that was how my wolf girl found me,
hanging and half-alive in my favorite crying tree.
She laughed with sunlight flashing in crystal teeth.
Before plunging vicious knives into my stomach.
Until the  words gouged at places hidden beneath tender poetic flesh...
My screams never reached another living soul.
Dragging open my belly to reveal what innocence I had left,
I watched as poison caught fire to her words;
I was annoying
I was clingy
I was loud, unaware, and
I loved the same she had loved
stolen the moon from her nightless sky without realization
and caused heartbreak and spread disease in her wake
she knew what the demons did~~~

"And yet you loved every second of it, didn't you Lycan?"
I know, I know
all of that was so long ago, yet I cannot help myself.
I don't hang from trees anymore,
and I don't talk to wolves in sheep skins any longer.
That doesn't stop me though;
The questions slither into my palms and onto the page
where navy ink scratches letters
into rotten white paper;
Like snakes in the tomb of my heart.
"Why did you save me?"
"Why didn't you save me when I needed you most?"
"Oh wait, right, you never had to..."
"What love could you possibly harbor
for me?"
"Did you ever love me?"
"No, probably not."
"Will it ever be okay again?"
"Why didn't you let me in when you needed me?"
"Was it worth it?  Jack I mean...was he worth it?"
"Was it worth those seven months?"
"You're more than lust."
"Did your sins finally catch you, Lycan?"
Wolves find glory in preying upon the weaker species.
You knew I was weak from day one.
"Why didn't you **** me when you had the chance?"
I'm sorry I defiled you.
Apologies that you went to the trouble of teaching me the hard way.

And finally,
I'm sorry that I dared to love you, Allie.

Pill six.
Let me put it in simple terms;
I hate myself.
I have come back from the brink of death for the thousandth time,
and I'm so sick of it.
My mind is a battlefield of depression and
I am no match for the darkness that borderline feasts on my soul.
They never left after they hung me pretty in that tree.
Thoughts that take my life piece by piece like casualties in war.
No, you don't understand.
I am beyond saving.
I have been,

for a very long time.
No matter how long I look into a mirror
I cannot find a trace of beautiful.
The glass doesn't bother lying to me, not anymore...
That's how I know all of you are lying to me.
I have let the insanity slide a dagger into my spine
ripping a **** upwards to my neck.
This is where bone touches the air and I don't recover.
R e l l a p s e
I hate everything about myself,
what I have become,
wallowing in the pity because I am far too tired;
to swim, to try, to leave.
I descend into the black sea of ink that
I bathe myself in every hour to keep from feeling agony.
As a poet, it's the only title I hold onto with an ounce of pride.
Among the fields of grief I lay in my oaken coffin
pathetic words snaking into my mind
betrayal chewing at my insides,
memories play hide and seek between lost and broken treasures.
There is nothing left.
Not anymore.
And never again.
What more can I give when the nightfall erases me?
How much longer must I endure
my punishment for being human?
I was never mighty but
my how I've fallen.

"Are you okay?"
Don't think, just lie.
"How are you feeling?"
Lie faster.
"Oh my god, what happened?"
Lie for their sake.
"How are you?"
Whatever you do
"What's wrong?"
Just lie
"You seem kinda off today..."
If you tell them it's all over.
"Kira, are you alright?"
Lie until the truth becomes one.
"Seriously, you''re sure you're alright?"
You can't let that monster out, she'll destroy whatever you love left.
"Are you lying?"
"I'm sorry everyone.
I'm sorry
I'm sorry

I forgot to mention I have pills to take now.
For my insomnia, way back up in pill two up there...
Special pills that play roulette with the grim reaper.

"Kira, take only one pill at a time.  Please make sure to count if you swallow several at once.  These pills are very dangerous, potentially deadly if not consumed correctly."
"Take one pill, and if you can't fall asleep in an hour wait til tomorrow night to take two.  If that doesn't work, then the next night take three, and then four.  Do you understand?"
"Kira, please be cautious if you take five. I cannot stress enough how much I want you to be careful, it could damage your internal organs. It's like asking for a light coma, for 20 hours you'll be asleep."
"And Kira...whatever you do... NEVER take six pills.   You won't wake up after that.    Promise me you'll never take six...
"I promise Dr. Cline."
Well, I lied.  Shocker, right?
I am so terribly sorry that I cannot keep my promise...

that's all it takes.

I'm sorry is the only signature I leave on my suicide note.

I couldn't keep this in,
it's not poetry it's a rant.
Apologies for my confession....

But it's over now.
Äŧül 1d
I am a qualified post-graduate engineering degree holder from NDRI Karnal now and I am trying to complete a PhD program. I completed my Bachelor of Technology degree in Biotechnology from MDU inspite of a terrible road accident that imposed a partial physically challenged state in my life. I already wrote one inspired by my life till the 4th semester of my B.Tech degree and imagining the extreme consequences of the unfortunate caste-based (instead of the only economic criterion) reservation fiasco which are about to take place now.

I am guilty of wasting my precious time in the untimely search for love. I wrote about it in a creative form.

It also has some situational poetry in English and Hindi apart from few dialogues in languages other than English.

You will be surprised to know how accurately I predicted the fuel crisis and the protagonist named Akshant Kautilya Sharma does his research towards developing better supplementary fuel to help the economy.

Akshant’s search for love ends in a girl who loves him since their childhood days.

Akshant Kautilya Sharma teams up with an unlikely ally to defeat the hijack attempt by the currently only-fictitious anti-caste based reservation system terrorist organisation named Shuddh Rakt. 7 Seconds: A Typical Guy, Atypical Life eBook: Atul Kaushal: Kindle Store
Ask me for the link to my novel.
Lou Dec 2018
June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.

From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.

The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.
Its for a course I am taking in college. I hope this doesn't shade me as a fool. I'm kind of self-conscious of this one and hoping for feedback. Thanks.
Everything went dark,
Cold sweat ran down my face,
Goose pimples as big as grapes,
Teeth won't stop chattering;

But moons before,
I knew no lack,
Meat and drink,
And a warm bed;

Plunged into daily hunger,
Worms threatened to down tools
Faculty refused to coordinate,
Vision played hide and seek;

Hands became detached,
Use of language elusive
Answers refused to come,
And failure became imminent;

Thus began the many travails,
Up the avenue of starvation,
Drawing down stored up resources,
Inching toward scrawny days;

Yes, failure did come,
That semester was dreary,
Cold nights did not help,
Hunger defeated me;

When help came,
All hope had expired,
But just,
And it was sweet, very sweet.
There's no middle-class in Nigeria, so when individuals find themselves at the wrong end of the spectrum, then, only the grace of the gods could sort them out.
So when I found myself in university at the mercy of goodwill, everything seemed to fall apart for me until my father received his first pay after over seventeen months of unpaid pensions by the Nigerian government. He gave me five thousand naira that day and told me how he slept on cardboard boxes, under a bridge until he was attended to by the military pension board in 2005. My father is no longer with us but he rekindled hope in me that year. And I made him proud by receiving a worthy bachelor's degree in science. STRONG.
Robert Fern Feb 15
Ok apparently I didn't get a chance talk to  you in person , so Imma just text you abt it.//I had/have a crush on you(explains the panda picture) . I had a crush on you like way before we ever talked, it was like the start of 1st semester and I used to hangout with Bhanu and Laxman. Acha ok so these guys were talking ABT who they like in class and Bhanu said 'aniketha' and then they asked me I didn't know your name back then but I told "the girl with the specs" and I pointed at you , idk why I had a crush on you it's prolly cause of your vibe and  you were kinda cute.Acha ok so I had made up my mind to like try to avoid you and like never talk to you to you
Sag Jan 29
It all starts to get a little heavy the longer you hold it.
I'd like to set some things down, free my hands.
Little by little.
Trivial first, then the troubles.

He wore a name tag, which just so happened to rhyme with mine, and after handing him his coffee, he asked what it was.
What compels a stranger to ask for your name?

I feel so vulnerable with my hair pulled up
Like people are peaking at the back of my earlobes through the blinds and I can feel the warmth setting on the nape of my neck like the sun shining through them
I want to wrap my curls around myself and hide..

Did you hear the one about the school teacher who won the sweepstakes to be on the space shuttle Challenger, the one that exploded seventy three seconds after take off and disintegrated, littering the ocean with built up promises and reminders, palms holding faces whispering
"don't let fear hold ya back"

Every January people pray that this year, this year!, will be better than the last, and I feel good admitting that none of mine will ever be as bad as the year the girl broke my heart, my parents broke up, and my first semester of college left me broke. Rock bottom was eighteen years old and wishing they would stop coming.

I'm know you still have fantasies about the girl with eyes the color of the plants she nurtures, how maybe she was the one that got away, how you wish she still wrote to you. It's getting easier to brush off as the time grows. I guess everyone has that person, the idea of them never leaves your heart even if the opportunity has.

I have twenty one voicemails I haven't yet listened to and I'm just - not.
I know somewhere at the very bottom, your voice is waiting for me, asking questions you never really cared to hear the answers for.

I have stored memories that I have never once shared with any one because of how badly they hurt me. I try not to carry the repercussions around with me. I try not to worry my future self by sharing the past with my present myself.

I've always been a collector,
of wine corks,
grocery lists,
small cut outs from magazines,
of sparse compliments you give in passing,
I hold on to every one and still wonder if you think I'm pretty.
I'm still trying to figure out
why I don't accept them in the moment,
how to.

Words come as easily as sleep these days,
usually not at all.
I try to quiet my breath and stop the sniffles so that you don't worry about me, mostly unsuccessfully.
I am always curious as to why sometimes, you'd rather not know what troubles my mind.
Don't ask, don't tell.

I'll let you quietly love, if that's the language you know.

Do you check up on me like you do with her?
Search for my name,
hear my name
with the same ring to it.
I know I said earlier that it's getting easier to deal with the fact that you still have this looming ******* love for her but you know what, it's not.
Not at all.

Sometimes I feel like I'm seventy three seconds away from exploding, disintegrating, littering the world with my broken promises,
the reminder of my failure to survive the pressure.

But don't feel bad.
and don't ask, I won't tell.
I'll let you love silently, if that's the language you know.
I promise I'm not as emo as I sound ??????
Maybe I am ????
I hate it when people think suffering is wrong. Learn to pick up your **** suffering, and bear it! And try to be a good person so you don't make it worse! I know you have a lot of reasons to be resentful about school, heck, even your existence! We know it's going to involve a lot of pain, and lots of it is going to be unfair! But acting out everything you're complaining about will only make things infinitely worse, try it. That's why we have the saying that hell is a bottomless pit, because some stupid ******* could figure out a way to make it a lot worse. Learn to accept it! This is what the real world looks like, full of suffering. What can you do about it? Try reducing it! Start with yourself! Get your **** together solidly so that people can rely on you! Square up with what's wrong with you, you know it if you'll admit it. You know that there are a few things you can polish up a bit, deal with it and maybe you can start managing your present insufficient condition. Don't be a **** victim. Shine yourself up a bit so your eyes will be a little bit more open, shine it some more and maybe you might be able to bring your family together instead of having to be that spiteful, neurotic room mate that you're doomed to spend the whole semester with. Be humble about your deficiencies. Figure out how you can make peace with your siblings. You'll get there somehow, and when your life starts functioning you'll find out "Well, that kind of relieved a little bit of suffering", at least that reduced the opportunities for spiteful revenge. When you little by little start to get your **** together, you'll get acquainted with it because you're doing something difficult. You're wiser, so maybe you could point out a tentative finger out there beyond your family and try to change some little thing without wrecking it. We students are so conditioned to think that we can just fix anything, even something as complex as our society. Well, try to fix a military helicopter and see how far you get with it. You can't just whack it with a wrench and be like "Oh look, it's better!" NO! Life is complicated and to fix things are hard! We overcome suffering by being a better person, that's how you do it! It's hard because it takes responsibility. If you want a meaningful life everything you do matters! Unless you don't want meaning and not take responsibility, because who the **** cares? You can wander through life doing whatever your want! Gratifying your short term impulses for who knows how short it's going to be. Ask yourself if you want to get stuck in meaninglessness, but no responsibility. You'd quickly realize how the majority of your being are pursuing meaningless things. Because the fact is, pursuing meaningful things means taking on suffering. You have to put yourself together in the face of that, and that's hard! When you really get to the bottom of things, you'll realize that you need to make the choice to put yourself together. Transcend your suffering and see if you can be some kind of hero. Be that person who'll make the suffering in the world less. That's the way forward.
Priya Sep 2018
We are so sad on a trip getting cancelled
The most expected trip and the dreams of some wives;
And there were the sadness in the group of students
On their classes getting seggregated;
The earlier gonna miss a lifetime's chance of visiting a place
The latter, the chance of spending a semester together.
How interesting can life get.
They travel the same road but with different dreams.
Feelings of a lecturer on her students and her collegues.
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