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"themself" poems
Be kind to yourself, as you are with others You have these grand expectations of yourself and at times, those around you It's good to have goals and a hunger for betterment, but you must also be vigilant to keep them realistic Because, while you are indeed fierce & strong-willed, you are also soft & at times fragile You are human. But that doesn't mean you are without superpowers Your sensitivity is your greatest gift, but without care, can also be your greatest downfall You must learn to master your craft. This means to be patient with yourself as you would with others, to show compassion as you would with others, to show love, grace, & humility, to yourself This in practice, is to truly understand, & epitomise, that self-care is not selfish That it is okay to say no, or to ask for help, or to be truly vulnerable To acknowledge that fear is the root cause of bitterness & resentment To embrace the lows, for making the highs even sweeter To let the good wash over you the same as the bad, & embrace the micro changes, as the meta stays the same To believe you are worthy, of a great love, the same as you believe another's worthy of yours To embody the idiom that one can only truly love another, after they learn to love themself, & thus allowing the hard-earned victory of grounded, stable communion To know the difference between support & advice, love & lust, friendships & partnerships To have faith that you will find your way, because you will; because you live your life with generosity & authenticity This is my vision for you, that you will make this your reality.
0
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Dear Self,
Be kind to yourself, as you are with others You have these grand expectations of yourself and at times, those around you It's good to have goals and a hunger for betterment, but you must also be vigilant to keep them realistic Because, while you are indeed fierce & strong-willed, you are also soft & at times fragile You are human. But that doesn't mean you are without superpowers Your sensitivity is your greatest gift, but without care, can also be your greatest downfall You must learn to master your craft. This means to be patient with yourself as you would with others, to show compassion as you would with others, to show love, grace, & humility, to yourself This in practice, is to truly understand, & epitomise, that self-care is not selfish That it is okay to say no, or to ask for help, or to be truly vulnerable To acknowledge that fear is the root cause of bitterness & resentment To embrace the lows, for making the highs even sweeter To let the good wash over you the same as the bad, & embrace the micro changes, as the meta stays the same To believe you are worthy, of a great love, the same as you believe another's worthy of yours To embody the idiom that one can only truly love another, after they learn to love themself, & thus allowing the hard-earned victory of grounded, stable communion To know the difference between support & advice, love & lust, friendships & partnerships To have faith that you will find your way, because you will; because you live your life with generosity & authenticity This is my vision for you, that you will make this your reality.
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96
If they taunt me I'd flaunt myself around them I'd mesmerize everything I had with if I were to be a lesbian I'd say that would be pretty amazing.. loving your own type falling for your own kind like forever? Could you? you,the one pleasuring youself with  late night ************ process is the one that complains? when someone gives same pleasure to the one, of their type you'd say NATURE that's not fair oh ! Selfish creature how could you wish the world be same? straight is not a gender,so isn't gay,lesbian we all are human,that's what matters if you couldn't accept people loving their own kind you'd better start hating yourself cause they are loving themself like you do at late nights so if I were to be a lesbian that wouldn't be problem for my kind.
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
If i were to be a lesbian..
Today's world is not as it seems, Cancer now comes in packs of twenty And our idea of food is a burger with twenty-percent meat, And NO-ONE cares or thinks for themself Ones worth is measured only in wealth The children are hungry, Our veterans ignored Hunger for money and lust for oil brought us war, Ukraine in "crisis" and MH370 missing, The C.I.A. funded Isis we just won't believe it, So put down the phone and open your eyes, Realize Real Eyes Real Lies It shouldn't take a genius to see this So I will not forgive, I'll NEVER forget, about 9/11 or Israel's daily blank check Because we fund their wars with Gaza and more We bomb the Mosques,hospitals and more We've been deceived,shammed,tricked and lied to, So ask yourself,who am I? Who are you? We're the awoken ones with SO much left to do Open your eyes and simply wake Wake the **** up for our children's sake Sometimes I just think about things, What will our children's future bring? Will there be one at all or won't it exist? Open your eyes Realize And think about it
0
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
The Grand Scheme of Things
613 They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped— And seen my Brain—go round— They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason—in the Pound— Himself has but to will And easy as a Star Abolish his Captivity— And laugh—No more have I—
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5.2k
They shut me up in Prose
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who’s always with me To the one who helped me become the person I’m today To the one who taught me to treat others how I treat myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose approval I craved To the one who helped me understand that nobody will ever care for me To the one who taught me that I’m a piece of garbage myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose laugh I was scared of To the one who helped me know that I’m undeserving of love To the one who taught me to hate the mirror image of myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose voice haunts me To the one who helped me avoid responsibility and criticism To the one who taught me reasons why I should **** myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me scared of thinking To the one who helped me breed hate in who fundamentally am To the one who taught me that others will always be better than myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made feel guilty of my depression To the one who helped me find innovative ways to hurt me without a trail To the one who taught me that everything wrong is a fault in myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me a mom to my siblings To the one who helped me get rid of my carefree childhood joy To the one who taught me that in life one can only care for themself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who isolated me of the ones I loved To the one who helps me know my worth in negative numbers To the one who taught me jealousy and that I'm hers   Happy Mother’s Day to the person who fed me lies as facts To the one who helped me befriend an ED princess To the one who taught me that was the only way to be one Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me scared of accomplishing my dreams To the one who helped me endure years of abuse and neglect as a mask for love To the one who taught me that I could never be truly happy Happy Mother's Day to the person who polluted the word mother for me To the person who made me dread being a mother myself To the person that I'm horrified of emulating and ******* other child's life up Happy Mother's Day to my mom
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May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
Happy Mother’s Day
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who’s always with me To the one who helped me become the person I’m today To the one who taught me to treat others how I treat myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose approval I craved To the one who helped me understand that nobody will ever care for me To the one who taught me that I’m a piece of garbage myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose laugh I was scared of To the one who helped me know that I’m undeserving of love To the one who taught me to hate the mirror image of myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose voice haunts me To the one who helped me avoid responsibility and criticism To the one who taught me reasons why I should **** myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me scared of thinking To the one who helped me breed hate in who fundamentally am To the one who taught me that others will always be better than myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made feel guilty of my depression To the one who helped me find innovative ways to hurt me without a trail To the one who taught me that everything wrong is a fault in myself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me a mom to my siblings To the one who helped me get rid of my carefree childhood joy To the one who taught me that in life one can only care for themself Happy Mother’s Day to the person who isolated me of the ones I loved To the one who helps me know my worth in negative numbers To the one who taught me jealousy and that I'm hers   Happy Mother’s Day to the person who fed me lies as facts To the one who helped me befriend an ED princess To the one who taught me that was the only way to be one Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me scared of accomplishing my dreams To the one who helped me endure years of abuse and neglect as a mask for love To the one who taught me that I could never be truly happy Happy Mother's Day to the person who polluted the word mother for me To the person who made me dread being a mother myself To the person that I'm horrified of emulating and ******* other child's life up Happy Mother's Day to my mom
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34
It drives me insane when people see me holding a girls hand and ask “So who’s the guy? You know, who wears the pants?” I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS. Firstly, neither of us are ever wearing any pants. I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS, and i’m angry because lesbian does not always have to mean woman but where did you get man from? I’m angry because maybe sometimes one of us does identify as a guy. A gay boi with an I. A soft boy. A proud hairy legged 5”4 boy. A drinking pints in the pub with my dad and us both liking that same woman’s tattoo boy. A cries every day boy. A feels cool when drinking beer boy. A boy that had to teach themself to like beer boy. A boy who sometimes does not feel like a boy. A boy. A boy. Oh boy. Boys. You see, this question is confusing for me because when I was fourteen, my boyfriend and I would joke that I was the one wearing the pants, even though at that point I was very much still wearing skirts and hiding behind butt-length hair and also watching the L Word in secret when I got home from school but that’s besides the point. This question is obviously as confusing for you as it is for me because in your mind you see two pairs of **** holding hands on the tube and think: Lesbians. Now, which one’s the man? And I think to myself, there are two ways to answer this: Number 1: So I know lesbian is supposed to mean woman on woman, two vaginas, ********** strap-ons, veganism, art degrees (and a lot of this is true but let’s not stereotype). So I know that to you, although we appear to be two women, two snap-back wearing, sports-bra bearing- I mean I thought about writing ***** tearing here but it just doesn’t seem appropriate- women, the funny thing is that erm, you see, gender and sexuality: as different as my dad to my mum’s other ex-husband. We are not a man and a woman. We are two people and what do pants have to do with it? We are two people and why does one of us always have to be a man? We are two people and the awkward part of the point i’m making is that sometimes I don’t feel like a woman but you wouldn’t know that so let me say: we are not a man and a woman. We did not ask for your confrontation, we are not your designated driver, your answer sheet to an exam you haven’t sat yet, your house party when your parents go away, your girlfriend that you think is obliged to **** your **** even though you will not go anywhere near her ****  You are not our three year old son who asks too many inappropriate questions. To you, we are strangers and to answer your question, you seem to think that you’re wearing the pants here. So wear them. By the way, Number 2: **** off.
0
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
Who Wears the Pants
It drives me insane when people see me holding a girls hand and ask “So who’s the guy? You know, who wears the pants?” I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS. Firstly, neither of us are ever wearing any pants. I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS, and i’m angry because lesbian does not always have to mean woman but where did you get man from? I’m angry because maybe sometimes one of us does identify as a guy. A gay boi with an I. A soft boy. A proud hairy legged 5”4 boy. A drinking pints in the pub with my dad and us both liking that same woman’s tattoo boy. A cries every day boy. A feels cool when drinking beer boy. A boy that had to teach themself to like beer boy. A boy who sometimes does not feel like a boy. A boy. A boy. Oh boy. Boys. You see, this question is confusing for me because when I was fourteen, my boyfriend and I would joke that I was the one wearing the pants, even though at that point I was very much still wearing skirts and hiding behind butt-length hair and also watching the L Word in secret when I got home from school but that’s besides the point. This question is obviously as confusing for you as it is for me because in your mind you see two pairs of **** holding hands on the tube and think: Lesbians. Now, which one’s the man? And I think to myself, there are two ways to answer this: Number 1: So I know lesbian is supposed to mean woman on woman, two vaginas, ********** strap-ons, veganism, art degrees (and a lot of this is true but let’s not stereotype). So I know that to you, although we appear to be two women, two snap-back wearing, sports-bra bearing- I mean I thought about writing ***** tearing here but it just doesn’t seem appropriate- women, the funny thing is that erm, you see, gender and sexuality: as different as my dad to my mum’s other ex-husband. We are not a man and a woman. We are two people and what do pants have to do with it? We are two people and why does one of us always have to be a man? We are two people and the awkward part of the point i’m making is that sometimes I don’t feel like a woman but you wouldn’t know that so let me say: we are not a man and a woman. We did not ask for your confrontation, we are not your designated driver, your answer sheet to an exam you haven’t sat yet, your house party when your parents go away, your girlfriend that you think is obliged to **** your **** even though you will not go anywhere near her ****  You are not our three year old son who asks too many inappropriate questions. To you, we are strangers and to answer your question, you seem to think that you’re wearing the pants here. So wear them. By the way, Number 2: **** off.
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3
Everyday I think of ways to get you back. Ways that would make you smile, Ways that would make you sad, Ways that would make you regret, and Ways that would make you feel guilty. Everyday I think that maybe if you just saw me, everything would go back to normal. Maybe if I just showed up to your house one night and knocked on your window, Then you would see how much I still love you. I could hold you in my arms again to show you what it feels like to be held by someone who loves you more than themself. But I know that wouldn't help. It would just make things worse. Because I don't want you back if you're only here because you feel bad for me. I want you back because you love me and can't live without me. But now I know that you can live happily without me. Too bad I can't live without you.
0
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
I Wish You Wanted To Come Back
If I could wake up tomorrow And be someone new I’d hope to be someone That didn’t care about you A person who wakes up And smiles at the sun Not a recluse That hides from fun Someone who looks in the mirror And values themself Not insecure Loathing herself I wish to be someone Free as a bird Not someone who cares What others have heard But when I wake up I will still be me Hoping and wishing One day I’ll be free
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Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
Be Someone New
They're there, slouching slightly, tall and lean, their eyes like lapis Who can't fall in love with them? I feel like it's impossible Hair cut so so short, almost looking like a fairy Their light voice and face dappled with small freckles They can't see it, but they're absolutely beautiful Literally everything about them, they're amazing They are literally the best person in the world, they're perfect I could describe them endlessly They feel like dying every day and it physically hurts me No one that nice or brave should feel like that Why would someone so perfect want to end their own life? How did they come to hate themself this way?
0
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
Them
He asked about me in the first meeting. he was so curious to know the whole time, we were talking. what should I tell, what should I hide? my life is so confusing it never was a joyride. being emotional, I end up hurting. I am not the one who loves flirting. believe in giving all or nothing every time it's easy for me to trusting. failed so many time yet not learning, As soon as I become comfortable life starts turning. got ditched so many times still friendly. Always fall in Pitts more than deadly Low in confidence, thinking negative. serve myself for people to take benefit. knowing yet not doing anything for the betterment world is moving fast and talk about empowerment. with all these flaws I still, love myself those who cheat will pay themself. I won't change, I never become you. will always be loyal and to myself true.
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Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 4:17 AM UTC
I am not you.
445 ’Twas just this time, last year, I died. I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms— It had the Tassels on— I thought how yellow it would look— When Richard went to mill— And then, I wanted to get out, But something held my will. I thought just how Red—Apples wedged The Stubble’s joints between— And the Carts stooping round the fields To take the Pumpkins in— I wondered which would miss me, least, And when Thanksgiving, came, If Father’d multiply the plates— To make an even Sum— And would it blur the Christmas glee My Stocking hang too high For any Santa Claus to reach The Altitude of me— But this sort, grieved myself, And so, I thought the other way, How just this time, some perfect year— Themself, should come to me—
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3.7k
Twas just this time, last year, I died
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.
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Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
high school
Jim, Clara, Lizzie, and Tim are sitting comfortably around a work meeting table drinking delicious coffee and eating delectable sandwiches which their manager provided for free; these employees love their manager. Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim area engaged in a ‘Quality-Circle’: A group of employees who meet regularly to consider ways of improving their workplace. Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim conceptualise themself as not slaves but cooperators with their manager to improve the functioning of their workplace for the benefit of the employees, and the benefit of the shareholders, customers, suppliers management and their whole society. Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim are exercising joyful creativity to identify problems and discover solutions which they will diligently implement to improve their workplace, to increase their joy and happiness in their workplace: by increasing ease of their work, by increasing efficiency of their work, by improving quality of their work, by increasing productivity, by increasing customer satisfaction, by improving environmental impacts, by increasing profits. Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim realise that a continuously-improving well-functioning workplace provides them secure and enjoyable employment; so, participating in the joyful creativity of a quality-circle striving to continuously improve their workplace makes them feel joyful and happy.
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
Quality Circle
449 I died for Beauty—but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining room— He questioned softly “Why I failed”? “For Beauty”, I replied— “And I—for Truth—Themself are One— We Brethren, are”, He said— And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night— We talked between the Rooms— Until the Moss had reached our lips— And covered up—our names—
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3k
I died for Beauty—but was scarce
Don't feel so special I've been abused, Forcefully used, Yet you think you can blow my fuse? Don't feel so special. I've hacked & sliced at my own skin, Barely living, So thin, But you worry if you hurt my grin, Don't feel so special. You could have called me every bad name under the sun, shot me with a gun. But I've hurt me, more than you've ever could. So don't feel so special. I don't need closure, Unless its from stitches, Mending the pieces I've broke from myself. But the damage you've done, Is nothing I haven't done to myself. So don't feel sorry. Hold your tears of guilt upon a shelf. They mean nothing to me, But only for yourself. So don't feel so special. You are nothing but another person who dared to hurt me, But only hurt themself.
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Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 5:41 AM UTC
Don't Feel So Special
I stuck on the label My shirt capped with snow I smiled as I was able My voice my words could show All who came to me Read quickly and ran more My label was not picky Of who should fear my tooth and claw I looked down unto its face And it looked back into mine. Not one who found themself in place Could speak quite like my label's whine. 'Not you, not me, not anyone Is free to be themself While I am here you're already gone For words make rich those ones with wealth.' I clung to him and ripped him forth, But horror thudded and with it, tied My heart stuck to the paper and its morph Was into a label as I died. And die I did, but still the words Stayed until I faded free, Though I sleep the men in herds Will speak the mind they have of me.
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
Label Maker
In a world where two people get down on their knees Both in the business of selling themself Both hoping to be blessed for the work they put in One called a preacher The other a ***** But only one is seen as a sinner And one gets paid to say what anyone can read I been around both so I'll speak for me Ten percent seems high just to sit and listen for sixty minutes twice a week about a make believe world that nobody will ever be able to say it even exist for sure I'd rather pay alittle more and get straight to point with the working girl Sweaty men in cheap suits don't do much for me Besides I need the relief of a release Their worried  because she has kids Talking **** as they drop their kids off to Father Ben Never noticing the nuns That's mental and physical abuse showing on their face She's trying to get paid While the church gives millions to cover up their peodphile ways Moving them from place to place Making the devil take the heat Wait Is that why the devil even exist So you religious sinners have someone to blame Black people being racist Then crying about slavery White folks mad because they will soon be the minority Campaigning for a white lives matter movement The Spanish stay yelling P.R or NY Not sure why they even moved Straight people angry cause they can't go both ways Gay people hating for still being blamed for creating aids Old don't like the new And the new to dumb to have a clue It's all petty **** and a waste of time Like voting for an election of any kind They control us by keeping the hate between us Because I bet if religion didn't make a dime Religion would be gone faster then the evidence they had aboit JFK being shot Look back and see the past got us here Now look ahead with a different plan Respect yourself to remove the label they selected for you Give these kids hope for a bright future Or might as well give these kids the rope so they don't suffer in the future
0
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
It's The Same ol Same ol
In a world where two people get down on their knees Both in the business of selling themself Both hoping to be blessed for the work they put in One called a preacher The other a ***** But only one is seen as a sinner And one gets paid to say what anyone can read I been around both so I'll speak for me Ten percent seems high just to sit and listen for sixty minutes twice a week about a make believe world that nobody will ever be able to say it even exist for sure I'd rather pay alittle more and get straight to point with the working girl Sweaty men in cheap suits don't do much for me Besides I need the relief of a release Their worried  because she has kids Talking **** as they drop their kids off to Father Ben Never noticing the nuns That's mental and physical abuse showing on their face She's trying to get paid While the church gives millions to cover up their peodphile ways Moving them from place to place Making the devil take the heat Wait Is that why the devil even exist So you religious sinners have someone to blame Black people being racist Then crying about slavery White folks mad because they will soon be the minority Campaigning for a white lives matter movement The Spanish stay yelling P.R or NY Not sure why they even moved Straight people angry cause they can't go both ways Gay people hating for still being blamed for creating aids Old don't like the new And the new to dumb to have a clue It's all petty **** and a waste of time Like voting for an election of any kind They control us by keeping the hate between us Because I bet if religion didn't make a dime Religion would be gone faster then the evidence they had aboit JFK being shot Look back and see the past got us here Now look ahead with a different plan Respect yourself to remove the label they selected for you Give these kids hope for a bright future Or might as well give these kids the rope so they don't suffer in the future
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43
When I was a little Cub Scout I was taught to handle knives with care Stay safe while using them Only use them when permitted When I was a little Cub Scout I thought all of this was redundant Common sense anyone should know Because who would ever put themself in harm's way? When I was a little Cub Scout I didn't quite grasp depression People who whittle down things Other than soap bars and sticks But when I was a Boy Scout With my very first knife in my hands And my very first cut on my arm I understood why these rules were set. When I was a Boy Scout That first cut was accidental But yet something stuck with me A wandering thought found its home in my head When I was a Boy Scout The cuts became less and less accidental An addiction growing onto me A desire to feel something
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Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
Little Cub Scout
eyes like supernovas and just as stellar your eyes were my favorite constellations your pupils orbit your view of the world slightly dilating when you see someone you love I hope they dilate when you see me I never owned a telescope but looking into your eyes was the closest thing galaxies kissed your lips and wanted to stay so they painted themself in your mind, keeping vibrant and brilliant forms of stars each thought connecting the dots, forming orion’s belt and your fingertips traced euphoria in the form of the big dipper and the little dipper was the curve of your arms where I would rest my head sometime soon and soon I will look into those bright eyes and I will feel at home in saturns rings which were outlined in your irises and you’ll look into mine and our sets of planet-like pupils will expand into blackholes
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Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Stars and other metaphors
some people they keep fit by going to the gym shedding of the fat turning it to slim lifting up the weights skipping on the spot running on a tread mill as they begin trot going in the sauna sitting in the steam losing lots of weight everybodys dream eating healthy food to keep themself in trim with there daily visit to the local gym.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
keeping fit
Time and again we all get hurt and the truth is it takes long to heal. So yes, the world is full of people who are secretly nursing the wounds that were inflicted upon them. Some of these wounds they got from friends, some from strangers some from family and other wounds, believe it or not, are self-imposed. We are often quick to get angry and we do not even think twice before we point fingers and blame others for the wounds they caused but what about the wounds we inflicted ourselves with? What do we then do upon the realisation of self-created hurt and pain we orchestrated ourselves? There are times when one absent-mindedly digs themself a hole to fall in, sets themself a trap to be caught in or lays a bed of thorns to lay on. Reality only sinks in when the pain is felt and the pain one feels from what they did is way less compared to the hurt they get upon the realisation of the fact that they are the reason for that pain. People hurt us, life goes on, we learn to get over it but what about when you hurt yourself??? The answer is quite simple: Forgive yourself but the implementation of the answer is a different story altogether.
0
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
Self inflicted pain
Samelove +same sex=Amazing Love Who cares about your *** or if you like your same *** It shouldnt matter;the only thing that should matter is that your happy with the person that your in love with. Samelove+samesex=Amazing Love Love is pation but not all the time and becuase not everyone can accept the GAY pride of others Samelove+samesex=AmazingLove No-one can change wh they are unless they're ready to. So I ask everyone to just be themself and never change unless they're ready Samelove+Samesex=AmazingLove
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Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Same Love
Shout out to the old me The one who never quit being one of a kind The one who spoke their mind all the time The one who never gave up on their dreams The one who wasn't afraid to be themself The one who's an old soul and not scared of being one The one who would never quit saying "I'm weird and proud of it" The one who made mistakes and somehow never learned from them So shout out to the old me
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May 20, 2021
May 20, 2021 at 10:13 PM UTC
Old Me
607 Of nearness to her sundered Things The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—seems— The Shapes we buried, dwell about, Familiar, in the Rooms— Untarnished by the Sepulchre, The Mouldering Playmate comes— In just the Jacket that he wore— Long buttoned in the Mold Since we—old mornings, Children—played— Divided—by a world— The Grave yields back her Robberies— The Years, our pilfered Things— Bright Knots of Apparitions Salute us, with their wings— As we—it were—that perished— Themself—had just remained till we rejoin them— And ’twas they, and not ourself That mourned.
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2.1k
Of nearness to her sundered Things
This country's being privatized By politicians using private eyes Manipulating through public lies And their hate filled cries The question becomes a stark why We ask the dark unwise Driving us to laced dimes Or writing ****** rhymes Love is the answer I surmise Nobody else buys Emotions have no value in the marketplace Unless you're of a certain race That reminds them of themself Then they're more likely to share their wealth We need more than paper ***** To tear down these paper walls The order becomes too tall When we apply an objective concept (currency) To a subjective principle (value) Our ideas of value get tangled Our empathy is mangled Our discourse becomes angled Discussions turn to wrangles And cats are bred Bengal As our domestic lives Never left the jungle But there's always a rumble Regimes always tumble Humanity continues to stumble Earth's health starts to fumble Molesting the planet like a creepy uncle Until we see our follies unfold Then will we be so bold To say we can do it on our own?
0
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
Privatization