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apathy May 2013
all i ever feel is unaccepted
it really *****
i always wonder, when will people accept me
when will that happen?
a week
a month
a year
never,
then when?

i sit in the corner because i have no other choice
no one accepts me
they never have, never will
and yet i still try, why?

i don't have many friends,
my old ones all left me behind
don't be the one,
to push me aside

don't be that kind of person
at first,
i thought you would stay with me forever
that never happened

you were the only person that accepted me
now your not my friend anymore
everyone else doesn't accept me
why don't you be like them too?

never live a life like mine
to hide behind a wall of insecurity
its never fun
and then to have people be so mean
so unaccepting,
it makes me want to die
pretty pretty please, just accept me
don't be them
just accept me for who i am
JayceeJellies Jan 2015
Will you lock me outside,
forcing me to look in?
I'm so afraid of being unaccepted.

Why must you stare at me?
Do you think I'm unaware..

I wish you'd stop talking,
Your voice makes me feel impared.

Why are they ignoring me,
Do I need to speak louder?

Everytime I try,
I just become flustered.

Maybe it's just better this way.
Roni Shelley Apr 2013
The thing is everyone has faults
I have faults
That's why it stings whenever I say sorry
Because I know it was both my fault
NitaAnn Apr 2014
It is mine and mine alone...to fight…talk…cry…scream…hate…hold...and hopefully someday face and accept. How could I have possibly believed that someone else could understand...

I feel like I am so many different people disconnected from each other wrapped tightly inside this lost little body with no escape.

                                              I am a mother
                                              I am a wife
                                              I am a friend
                                              I am a professional
                                              I am so much more…
I am an ****** survivor…she is the part that is wholly separate from the rest of ‘Nita’.

I have never faced her, accepted her or anything that happened to her, she was not me…now she has grown into this big all-consuming monster growing inside of me. And the bigger she gets, the louder she is, the faster I have tried to bury her and push her away. But she is now way too big and I am way too old to bury her anymore. And I have to figure out a way to be okay with her being a part of me.

Why do I continue to run and fight who I used to be and who I am? Why am I so scared and so ashamed? Why do I continue to live in doubt and hopelessness? Why can’t I trust anyone? Why can I not understand and accept her? If this is what I so desperately wish for, what I have worked so hard for the past 5 years, why can I not just DO it? Why? Why can’t I be okay with ALL of me?

I am rambling tonight because I do not feel well and I am afraid to keep all of this inside of my head for fear that tonight could end with the unaccepted being punished. And there is no ‘support system’ in place right now to help me with that. There is just ‘me’, logical adult Nita, trying desperately to remain in charge. I catch myself not breathing, and it feels like I have to talk myself through a few breaths before it becomes subconscious again. And yet even when I concentrate on my breathing, I cannot breathe deeply, I cannot let all the air out of my lungs. Why? Is that because I am afraid and untrusting that air will fill my lungs in the next breath? Not only can I not trust another human being, I cannot trust my own body to breathe?  

I am not crazy. I am not weak. I am alive and I am lucky. I am alive…so now what? Is this where I say, “Yes, I am an ****** survivor~ time to move on.” And then I walk away? I keep trying that. I am an ****** survivor. I am an ****** survivor. (I suppose that is a step forward, I still can’t say the words out loud, but I can write them now.)


               I SURVIVED THE ABUSE ~ IT IS TIME TO MOVE ON…

But I need help with the second part. I mean, I have moved on, I am an adult, I am not helpless. I can function in society, and the majority of the people in my life probably think I am a product of a normal childhood. But it has affected so many parts of me, parts of me I am possibly not even aware of yet. That is the only way to explain the nightmares and the triggers and the strange reactions to what most people consider normal situations. I try to keep track of these moments, events, feelings, and I think I am doing better, right now…and yet I also feel like I am waiting for fate to stomp on me and squash me like an ant.  

I wish I could talk to people in my real life and trust that they won’t look at me in shame, embarrassment, or worse, pity…but I cannot. Nope – my past is mine…and I am left here alone now – to fight with it, talk to it, hate it, deal with it, cry with it – and maybe someday accept it.

And I will do it alone because it is my past…no one else’s.
How I could I have possibly thought that someone else could understand.
Michael Chandler Aug 2013
How many times will I say, write, or perform a mistake?
Everlong it seems, because no matter how far I travel
someone's there telling me I'm wrong or that I'm just not ready.
I thought it would die like a flower buried in snow

What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was I reading?
Believing family could act accordingly when they saw a new lion
,but like they said I will always be a cub. There is no other place for me.
To explore! To leave the nest even if the farthest I go is to the nearest branch

And to be look upon as a bird with just a few miles in his wings
To explore! to indulge with peers, to embrace society, and to be mistreated.
Oh! what a treat it is to be mistreated, to feel alive and unaccepted in the same breath
If only I could get past the unaccepted part maybe it be easier to love myself.

To love another, but first I must love thy self. To love one self and to take reminders
of my flaws and look upon them as compliments. To humble my strengths and listen
clearly to my loud mistakes. In the end of this poem I decided to be than not to be. And to live rather than to sleep.Oh Hamlet how could you ever be so indecisive, now you will forever be remembered as just a prince.
Ashton Sep 2016
You just want to be accepted
For who you really are
But everyone around you
Makes you feel as if
Who you really are
Isn't okay
Or is weird
And just unacceptable
So you have to goo through life
Feeling
Unaccepted
My family
My life
...
Isabel Jan 2013
there are a lot of words that begin with un
and
most of them ****

unlucky unloved uninvited unaccepted unachieved unacknowledged uncomfortable  unadmired unheard

but there is one word that starts with those two letters
that can make things all better

understood
A Aug 2010
I must recognize impermanence.
The curtain falls,
Good-byes are said.

I sit here in the darkness, waiting.
The end will come,
Unaccepted.

This odd, close-knit family will be gone.
Yet it does stay,
Just in memory.

This wish is all that remains after.
Never forget
What we have done.
The magic made,
The illusion, the theatre.
Written 8-1-2010
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
December 25 - 28, 2010


Stuck in Miami, Florida, because of bad weather in NYC.
Composed after reading the poetry of Campbell McGrath, who lives in Miami.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
­
electric pinpricks of
unfamiliar red and green lights,
bedroom traffic guidance
courtesy of a stranger's
tv and cable box,
an emblematic totem tonight,
of my physical dislocation,
reminders that I'm enslaved
by weather machinations.

I lay, resting uneasy,
in a strange bed,
one night too many,
snow storming in my head
snow storming up north aplenty,
a blizzard of ruminations are
my white coverlet,
while stuck in Miami.

faraway drifts have
force fed and freed
an imprisoned restlessness,
a multipurposed, slashing.

Miami midnight incision has
let out the bad humors,
let in an unfamiliar odor -
lechón asado,
which texts my Pharisee nostrils
in Cubano,
words muy ironico,
a single waking thought,
"who ya kidding?"

Everglades rain
imported from California,
recycles on rooftops,
thrumming a heart beating,
syncopated, watery refrain,
a regifted heavenly present.

the sound waves mark
as a barely undulating wave,
inside this super soaked brain,
that transforms wine into water
and scan lines into these letters,
"who ya kidding?"

all this exponential signage
of this NYC boy grousing, are his
defrocked muses annoying,
with a serenading blizzard
of one trick pony repetitions,
coronets trumpet his unmasking,
this essay, a revelation,
a product of their
harmonious discordancy.

a single note crowns his head
as he weeps whole food
organic, non-recyclable tears,
products of his new inquistional,
a self-inflicted interogatorial,
"who ya kidding?"

compiler of an
occasional talented catch phrase,
strung'em together like
cheap pearls,
pretensions of literary acumen
once populated his Id,
articles of spilled word *****,
but Florida rain has cleansed
his Northern haughty pretensions,
with an injection of truth serum,
a pharmaceutical wonder of
a local poison labeled,
"who ya kidding?"

A day laborer, nothing more,
rise up at five, brown bagged,
a client of Mammon's *****,
soul sagged, life hagged,
a sum of cultural cliches,
a cell phoned baby boomer,
a would be millennial,
constructed of paper mache,
who on occasion,
has been known to say,
"Let's play poetry today."

the poseur chokes
on this new poison,
delivered by unhappy stance
by the arrows of his
current misfortune
for he now suffers from
the deadly disease of
"compare and contrast."

a slim book of poems
of Campbell McGrath's
(his phraseology,
a veritable theology)
shoos the blues traveler,
over to a funhouse
where an honest magic mirror
cuts him down to size.

his poetic aspirations,
a residue of self-infatuation,
are summarily dismissed by
the truly gritty, quick justice
of a master poet's
"who ya kidding?"

so watch how a would-be
poet disappears,
in a barrage of bullets marked,
nevermore,
his dignity, more than hobbled,
his cheek, gone, gobbled,
his juice, a currency unaccepted,
his holiday present,
a ceasefire of conjugation,
a cornucopia of declinations

dare I ever write again?
who indeed, am I kidding,
other than myself?

I am an addict, not a poet.
Trey Evans Nov 2014
Lord,
I know I’m nowhere near your model image
For what a good human is
I come here with nowhere left to turn
Exiled from my home
Ridiculed for trying to change
My devilish looks turning strangers away
My reforming person unaccepted by family

Tonight I weep
For what I was born into
And not being able to change
Into something you see fit
My tears,
Burning the very ground I walk on
Hoping for redemption
Praying for forgiveness

I’ve never asked for anything
But now?
I need answers
Answers to questions I’ve never been able to solve
Am I destined to be a demon?
Or can these horns form a halo?
5/16/13
I want to go far away from here
I'm sick of being in this place
I'm sick of feeling sick all of the time
I'm sick of seeing her face
I'm tired of being an outcast
I'm tried of being a joke
I'm tired of being questioned
I'm tired of wanting to choke
I'm fed up with being unaccepted
I'm fed up with how I look
I'm fed up with my emotions
and my dignity that they took
I'm sick of feeling out of control
I'm sick of being sad
I'm sick of feeling out of my skin
and always being mad
I'm sick of being a loser
I'm sick of being lame
I'm sick of being misunderstood
I hate feeling ******* insane.
WRITTEN BY: Mandie Michelle Sanders
WRITTEN ON: Started May. 12, 2010 Ednesday, Finished May. 13, 2010 Thursday 9:02 A.M.
Jazmin Huey May 2014
Laughter and degradation

Put-downs and humiliation

So you don't like me

Why must you hurt me?

You see the way I dress

You think I'm such a mess

You fear me so much

That you keep me out of touch

And you put me in my place

And you sit back and laugh in my face

You go through such tribulation

To protect your stupid reputation

Refusing to accept the unaccepted

Refusing to acknowledge the dejected

Such a slave to conformity

Such a slave to uniformity

Follow a few; step on many

Go out with the crowd in hopes that any

Weirdos who show up happen to be weak

So you can pound and beat that freak

You might not even hurt him much

But you will still tell such

Unbelievable lies; such incredible myths

So that you and your clique can resound with

Laughter and degradation

Put-downs and humiliation
SRS Jan 2014
Magic and lies
I don't want people to see it either

I read a play
about a woman
who was slowly
being drawn into insanity
Called
A Streetcar Named Desire
her name was Blanche Dubois
pronounced 'Dubwa'

and I could relate
to the way she swayed
between reality and fantasy

how she felt
when she said
she wished to give
magic
to people
and that was the only
reason she lied
so to cover up the darkness
the unaccepted insides
the parts she knew
nobody would like

the way she craved
to fill in a space
which she deep down knew
would never go away
I was in her shoes
I heard the polka music too
and the BANG
I felt the pain
in my own way
through this women
who was made up
for entertainment
who doesn't even exist

and I'd never tell a soul but you
will you keep my secret?
I based this off of a play *A Streetcar Named Desire* By: Tennessee Williams. We took it apart in my English class for school...and I felt so drawn to this character. She's one I will always remember. I highly recommend to read the play, its amazing, especially when you get so deep into the characters.
Izzy Aug 2013
I see the lonely
I see the lost.
I see the tears that filled these rivers.
I see the broken hearts.
Scattered like autumn leaves.
As the busy crowds crush them underfoot.

I see their empty eyes
And their painted faces,
Their smiles are as hollow
as their hearts.
They disguise their tears as raindrops,
As they walk the streets alone.
Forgotten.

I see the lost
And the lonely.
The tragedy that fills their days.
Unrequited
Unaccepted
Unappreciated
Unrecognised

I see them
I know them
I walk beside them
We, the unloved
Forever in love
Forever loyal.
Lonely
Lost
Forevermore
Emmalee Oct 2014
You're like an alien to me,
Distant but in the same galaxy.
You come and go as you please,
Leaving markings on my ground.
You pull me into your UFO -
Torture me as an experiment.
But I am still so completely
Drawn to the idea of you.
I want to discover you
And see inside of you
For the first time.
I want to know what
You have to offer
On a planet far away.
I wonder -
Could your world be
A perfect match to mine?
Or are we too distant and different
To be side by side
Without judgement or confusion,
Without hatred or being pushed away.
Or would we be a perfectly imperfect,
******* up and unaccepted
Match in this galaxy?
R Sep 2013
when he said, "this is
my note, after all, thats
what people do, right?
leave a note?" my heart
completely caved
      >     in.    <

when my teacher said
that a lot of people
commit suicide due to
bullying or because they
feel unaccepted,
i raised my hand to
speak up about the
facts.


the true facts.

how more than half of the
homeless teenage population
are gay. they were kicked out
by their mums and dads.

how its not just the
bullying, how its
them too.

they feel so alone and
we always wonder why
there is a new name in
the paper saying,
"Suicide--Age --"
and yet because of
someone being p    u s h  e       d
to                                                      far

it made them take
their own life.

i wish i could stop
suicides,
i wish for once
i could be the one who
closed the door on
death.

but im no rolemodel,
i always let death
back in.

but that doesnt mean i
wont help you take
him out.
if you ever need someone to talk to, please please please dont hesitate to either talk to me or one of the other HP members. call a hotline or call your friends. write it down, talk to someone. 1-800-273-8255 heres the suicide hotline. please, if you need it, use it.
Cc Jan 3
He say sorry
i said apology not accepted
he says sorry
i said apology rejected
cause is sorry isnt sorry in his mind
he'll still hit me time after time
so i know sorry is just a lie
when he says sorry he doesn't mean it
he just wants to make sure i keep his cruelty a secret
Hanna Krystel Oct 2014
Sleepless nights
moon beams loveless
empty ache within
lost im realms unseen

Softly it kills
swiftly it finishes
consistent and nightly
sweet dreams diminishes

Clouds of shadows
hide the sparkle in my eyes
dilated pupils in the dark
silently eaten apart

Admired but unaccepted
too much yet never enough
wanted but unworthy
embraced yet soon given up

No rest and no restlessness
breathing the darkness numb
these are my consequences
my scars, my secret wars

Sleepless beauty
damsel in distress
bound upon a tower
my heart and I
both longing for slumber
Infamous one Apr 2013
Over my neglected childhood
Hating thing about my failed relationship
The things that mean so much should be, not once was
I've developed a voice through writing it speaks
Makes things clear puts it in perspective
New views and perspective something new and fresh
Why settle for the same'ol stuff and expect less
Molds never applied or cared to fit in
Pushed out the fear of change and truth
Accept the unaccepted one day it will change
Use to things not going my way one day you feel my emotion experience change not in your favor
New new new keep on trucking it will be found
Happy now it's turning around coming back after being all around
elle Mar 2012
The funny thing about life
                                              Is how we all have different perceptions and opinions
                                                        ­                                                                 ­                      On the same topics

But ha,
Nowadays we've all got to be nonconformists
Rebellion is tricky thing to master
To go against society is pretty much impossible
When the rest of society goes against itself
So those who rebel against the normal
Are so numerous that rebellion has become normal
conformity so to speak,
Has been lost in the eyes of adolescence
And blinded by the ideas
That being yourself
Is mainstream
But be different
But that's too average
light in the prism of teenage life
Is bent to show illusions and be deceptive
To tell us its accepted to be a unaccepted
Lets head back to the time where preppy cheerleaders and brain-dead football jocks
Ruled the hallways
And il-pubescent  band geeks were shoved into lockers
Like in the movies
Where only real society is existent
Abel Araya Aug 2013
The room is clear and the air is filtered
Two chairs for me and her, to separate and segregate
I grind my teeth and I clinch my fist, to the point where
I experience near sudden paralysis in my right hand,
and I think to myself, "I didn't love you because you were rich".
No such things as unaccepted apologies.

Between the two pillars of our own truth, there stands 32 Dr. Phils,
and each one attempts to explain to me
on how to be a reasonable and rational man,
so I can grow old with her, and learn how to fly without having any mosquito wings.
As I sit impatiently in this draconian chair of imprisonment with no restraints,
I think of what we once had and what we can still accomplish
by not believing in things such as unaccepted apologies.

By realizing that we are no longer on training wheels,
That the jagged surface that bridges us,
From a love that can shave diamonds and convert children into angels after death.
And when we get to that bridge, we will see ourselves with our children
as they walk and crawl to our bodies,
infesting their love across our fat bellies with their eyes and their drooling mouths.
I want our children to learn their first words that signify the exact representation
of our relationship;
their vivid sounds of "mamas, dadas, goo-goos, ga-gas"
hanging to our ears like raindrops on windshields,
like a mobile softly swinging over their cribs.

I relinquish myself from this seat as I run to hers,
to grab her, to tell her how ****** this situation is.
How our internal and legal battles are astronomically indifferent
To the spheric gift from God that has shun His light to your tiny stomach,
like the flickering spark of a dying flash.
Jessica Head Dec 2013
My thoughts became louder.
I can't even hear myself talk.
I must be crazy, insane.
The people around, annoy me.
It kills me to know that I'm still alive.
There's this ball of flames
Ready to explode.
Thoughts of suicidal
I'm tired of feeling this pain.
I'm so hurt.
I am going to end this pain someday.
Unloved,.
Unaccepted back into everyone's lives.
I hate people.
They ruined who I was.
I push people away.
Don't want them to see me.
I feel ashamed.
Guilt
Sorrow.
Alone
Lost
I'm on the verge.
Just Alice Jun 2012
Too many people walk staring down
Watching their feet hit the pavement
Heel toe
Heel toe
Heel toe

It's all the same
Over and over again
Why is it so intimidating to look up?
Are we afraid that glancing forward will cause us to
   trip?

No
We watch our feet
Heel toe
Heel toe
Heel toe
We watch our feet out of fear of what we will see
   when other's see us

Have you ever looked into the eyes of a complete
   stranger intentionally?
Held that stare for mare than a second or two?
What we fear is their judgement
Because
For that extra second we hold their stare
We are
   evaluating them
   sizing them up
   giving them purpose
   or lack of it

That is what we fear
Their judgement
   than verdict

That they, this stranger sharing our path,
   will pound the gavel over our soul
And pronounce us guilty
   unaccepted
   wrong
   strange
   different
   condemned

Their judgement proves all too significant
It will be what defines us
That is why we stare down at our feet
As they go
Heel toe
Heel toe
Heel toe
Sometimes it gets to you
Whenever a person is being mean to you
But you have to understand
And prevent yourself from walking away
Because you are the only one who gets their way

They'd be left helpless and unaccepted
It you wont be there to prevent it

You have a role
An important role
Wack Tastic Nov 2012
What was once thought of as meaningless,
This has become the pedestal,
It is now heralded as the voice of the generations,
Can it be so easy to corrupt,
Now a society watches in wait for what the end will bring,
Popcorn and soda in hand at overpriced locations near you,
We love to see how stupid we all are,
Talk show hosts hit the streets and ask them,
***** watching the tube laugh and criticize,
The mass media keeps us scared and uninformed,
We’d rather be socially accepted than question,
Socially unaccepted question, however important they may be,
Now people all over the world are fed up,
Revolution is sprouting clipped wings,
Still, as though the blinds are shut in the window,
The daily grind continues as if nothing is happening,
As if we are powerless and are obligated,
Drink your drug, don’t pay any attention to what that noise was,
It’ll all be over soon,
And you’ll soon understand what it meant to be,
Outside the cage, you’ll be second-class,
For the very first time, hard but free.
You couldn’t ask for more America,
If you don’t like the way things seem to be heading,
Do something about it, be heard, think of others,
Don’t let anyone stop you and take care,
It’s perfectly acceptable now to hate ignorance,
We can now prefer to search for the soul,
Rather than the TV guide,
We can now talk about things that matter,
Rather than the latest re-make of a movie,
We now have the power to abort the path,
That ignorant, fat, rich aristocratic liars have led,
We’re going to blaze our own trail,
In the name of the past intellects that now shutter,
Let’s get back to it.
Valora Brave Apr 2013
A voice commonly recognized
suddenly began to blend
a speech practiced until finalized
so easily how we did bend

Jealousy was control
given ungranted
eyes that shone a past unreleased
secretes the remains kept until deceased

too much revealed
vulnerable and hastily
trying to re-conceal
a simple discovery unaccepted

seemingly so unmoved
desiring to be removed
still and stable like a stone
but shame in your eyes over shone
the light you shine too bright
to blind those who try to fight
through your low-lit fog
to remind you
even stones, stand strong,
but crack and wash away
22:34
But now it has passed,
And that time is wrong.
For another 24 hours,
Waiting,
Ready,
For just a single minute of being right,
22:34 lives the other 23 hours and 59 minutes being wrong.
It's admirable,
So determined, that for just a few moments,
Everyone will agree,
22:34 is willing to spend the majority of its life,
Accepting to be unaccepted,
For a brief period of acceptance.
So spare a thought for 22:34,
And for those who try so hard to be right,
That they are fully willing to be wrong.
Tanner Angelo Dec 2013
considering reflections!
spectacular expressions excited by vernacular action
spicy and exotic erecting complexity!
forgetting the selective dyslexia
mental anorexia like pecs flexing
lacking dialect donating directions!
elementary subtraction of expletives
what the heck do they expect!
exclusion unaccepted
best guess reckon you're a wreck
what the heck no explanation!
The New Kestrel Sep 2013
Never again will I stay away.

I've always felt lost. Unaccepted.
But that was before I had a family.
I have so many people that I know and don't;
You are my family.

My mother, my father, my brother.
They aren't real.
They never treated me like family.
Never told me they loved me and
Sounded like they meant it.
They are not real.


But, Sage, my love, you are.
But, Caitlyn, you are.
But, Logan, you are. (Both of you)
But, Miranda, you are.
But, Connor, you are.
And I can go on.

And this is high school...
Will it last?

Or will my family leave me?

I continue to worry
As time passes.

I think and think and think
AND I CAN'T FUCKINGNG TAKE IT ANY LONGER!!!!
----


I wonder what will happen.
When all of this ends.
Because my real family are
The ones who kept me here
And kept me sane.

And let me reach past everything that
Ate at me,
Burned me,
Killed me slowly
And rotted me from the inside out.

What will happen.

Will I move on,
Or will the suspense keep building.
Jonine Garcia Mar 2014
just like some of you,
I was born insecure.
Born flawed.
Born covered of unaccepted imperfections.
but hey,
there’s a good news
I was born where life is a series of choices
and i’ve given a choice
to love my own skin, my own self.
I have a choice to accept what i am
and be not like someone else.

*- j.a.g
love yourself. :)
David Nelson Apr 2013
If I Had My Way

If I had my way
I would take you away
and shower you with flowers and hugs

If I had my way
the world would be as one
no more poverty no more wars

If I had my way
helping others who need help
would be rewarded not how fast you run

If I had my way
tears would be replaced
by smiles and happy thoughts

If I had my way
inventions would help all mankind
not buy you another fancy car house or boat

If I had my way
fairness would be the rule
rudeness greed apathy would be unaccepted

If I had my way
the world would be at peace
to share and enjoy the beauty as it should be

Gomer LePoet....
what a wonderful world this would be
ln Sep 2014
numbness to pain does not make it
non existent
floating imaginations do not make them
unreal
(h)arsh reality does not make it
fiction
big dreams do not me(a)n they're
unattainable
high **(p)es do not mean you're
delusional
sadness does not mean
depress(i)on
happi(n)ess doesn't have to mean you're
bipolar
wanting more do(e)sn't make you
ungrateful
and all these words that (s)ociety uses against you
to make you feel

weak

unaccepted


vulnerable
&

broken



di(s)card them.

all you need,
to be happy
is positivity

*this is my promise to you.
the letters in the bracket, it's a state of mind
LOOK AT HER!
Beaten battered bruised
Cornered, abused
My finger rose at the mothers face
IS THIS WHAT YOU MADE?!
"She deserves it
Every last bit
Hate served on a plate"
The mother snidely replied
The daughter cried harder
Peering through her cracked fingers
Hurt
"Am I just a shoddy rag doll?
I have untangled, scrubbed, restitched and reclothed over and over for you!
Waterlogged my eyes a thousand times!
Constructed to be
Unaccepted
Neglected
Misused
Ill.."
Kagami Nov 2013
We are not pens, ourselves, red ink is not inside of us.
But we do have sensitive blood that is discolored, same as that utensil.
Difference is: it poisons us, gives us rashes and thoughts that we are not worthy to have. It wrecks our minds with ancient tools that were once unaccepted. Silly poppies can not
Ruin us like that. I know what can.
The things that worry us, teenagers and babies, parents and pedophiles;
Cease your worries. I pity you, teens.
"It is fun, it is fun." I know I know. But is it worth the risk?
Cease your worries parents. You don't need to stalk your own children.
They learn from their mistakes. They cry for a while and then get stronger.
Like I did, why I kept my mouth shut for so long,
I was better. Until you began to read. I couldn't go to you specifically for that reason,
Tightening your hold on me, mother. I am already a prisoner in my own mind.
I don't need another warden.
A century long breakthrough gave me something,an understanding that not all children accept
Their parents. I don't feel at home there.
It is not one. Just a house that I stay in, people I live with. They are family, by blood only.
****** ink: my savior. My hero, love, is you. You inspired me to digitalize, write with graphite.
But I am still contaminated, mind wandering,

History repeating, sounds piercing, a test is too much when I did not study.
Help me. The trials this has put me through are unfair. Give me my pen to sign a contract, but I
Poison myself instead. Only okay after after a needle enters my streams and takes it out.
A mechanical vampire, I prefer you to bit me instead of metal fangs.
And now I dream.
.
.
.
.
.

Or maybe I am not. We have lived as such long enough. But, still,
Write about it. Tell me how you feel. But be careful not to poison yourself.

I have experience with that. The pen has a hidden blade. It cuts you with every word you
Lay in front of you. May I be a word? Scratch my love into your skin?
I will not intoxicate you as it would. I will give you something else entirely.

But my dream ends. Reality steps on me and takes my breath from me, I am suffocating in this Hellhole. Give me a firehouse so I can put it out and drink away my parched lips.
They need to be soft so I can speak, but first... I need to
Sew my lips shut. If they are dry, they will rip and open. We don't want that.
Keep them shut, don't tear open and bleed; you would give ink poison to
Mockingbirds if you do. They mock me, copy me. They tell me they are jealous.

But why? They don't know they've been poisoned.
It is a cycle. Everyone will die of it in the end.
devante moore Aug 2015
Knowing what's it's like to be a stranger in your own home
Feeling like you don't belong
The odd one out
So you sit alone
Blasting music in your zone
Pains of being unaccepted
On the scent of your breath
Wondering what you were put here for

Parents divorced
And they blame you
A broken family
Plague by you
A young girl
Thinking you were a mistake
And this pains you
Wanting your life story to end
To think your family is better off without you
This weight on your shoulders
Makes you feel you've been crushed by a boulder

The sickness come and goes
Distorts your skin
Makes you hide
Hate yourself inside
Loving yourself is hard to do
Doctors says this disease may be fatal
But it's just a chance
And it scares you
Thoughts you won't be here long pains you

He use to beat her
And there was nothing you could do
Your were such a small insignificant child
To step in an put up a fight
You watched your mom used as a punching bag
Hit until you didn't recognize her face
Helplessness is what you felt
Pained you she couldn't count on you

You cut everyone off
Shut yourself from the world
No one could ever be trusted enough
To know the real you
Dad was never around
He was always such a let down
Words never holding value
Putting your faith in anyone else
Would be a costly mistake
Thinking you would be betrayed
So you sit alone
You don't need anyone else
Only trust in you
You made preparations
No one else would disappoint you
But you've always felt you been on your on
A life forever in solitude
Pains you
KarissaRawr Aug 2011
Had another sucky summer start school the day after tomorrow I know they're gonna hate me and a few people will go talk trash about me but I don't care I'm going to be true to myself and whoever can accept that I'll be their friend and yes I'm emotional and weird part of it is I have reasons to be and part of it is thats just me well here's my song/poem:
I'm dreaming a waking nightmare but I'm here to have fun haters and fans alike let's just hold on you have three choices give in and conform to the norm, become violent to yourself or embrace who you are and let out your inner star and let the mainstream believe what they please we all fall down on hard times let your rock and roll heart pick you up why hurt yourself anymore that's just making the negative labels seem true if your goth dress in the black but don't let hurtful words hold you back and lay in a coffin of suicide for those dumb prudes they don't get how you feel don't let them end your life fight for what you think is right and when your personal problems get you down on the ground and the pills are in hand scream the words you feel don't pop them trust me I've been there I've overdosed I've lost the ones I love I'm judged I'm just like you I get that no one gets it but I'm ready to hold on hell this isn't my final song we all have rockability don't be silly we're all loved,hated,judged and broken hearted whether your callled scary,deadly,weird or mentally ******* remember your not alone and don't you dare change remember you have me and many more who understand I know I know I'm just a kid on your computer screen but there's an obvious connection authority thinks they can change and conform you don't cry if they make you change clothes we all know how that goes know regardless what they make you wear or wash out of your hair you still know who you are and rock yourself even without those awesome threads when you have the choice dress the best as you let them make fun of you for your differences but don't look blatantly bad brush your hair and smell the best being teased for that hurts but it doesn't hurt to dress and be who you please in all the other ways be rad be crazy let go sometimes laugh at yourself don't always be lazy accept the unaccepted and do the unexpected never give in to the mainstream again and remember no one's a poser and even if you can't win your not a loser let the deaf kid listen to music if he wants just because he can't hear it doesn't mean he can't feel it in his heart your only what you answer to and just laugh in the haters,bullies,bosses and teachers face who think they're words can effect you you know what to do they just don't understand who you are and how you feel but be proud your completely real let your rock and roll heart pick you up even though thats tough or if you prefer post *******,thrash metal or more believe in that and feel those words no matter who calls them absurd or what nerd trying to go along with the herd gives a diar complaint remember that kids no saint and shrug your shoulders even if they're older you have to be bolder let your rock and roll heart pick you up and guide you show your pride and let the world think as they please your not alone if your friends have to be online so be that atleast their true to themselves if you have to hang with the ******* the bus with seizures don't roll your eyes you don't know what its like to be her let your rock and roll heart shout out your special! Rawr!Rock and Roll Heart
Originally from the Ancient Greek word 'empatheia', derived from "en" & "pathos" ["in" & "suffering or passion"]. Here we find the root of empathy's definition. Empathy is in emotion, feelings evoked from the animal in our psyche, the purported soul. It is sensation born of mirror neurons, not necessary under our control.

The Empathion is the empathetic dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind through which emotions are created and thence expressed.
Empathos is the corporeal manifestation of said dimension, expressed through the medium of a body.

Alexithymos [without-words-for-emotion] is an unaccepted dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind comprised of irreconcilable notions, it is proportionate to our own limitations rather than lacking in "actual compatibility". If a noumenon cannot be processed by The Empathion then it is relegated to Alexithymia wherein we cannot accept the inability to understand/emotionally analyse it at present, given the current pretext.

Alexithymia was constructed from a-lexis & thumos  [without-speech & soul, seat of emotion, feeling and thought]. It is a failure to integrate mirror-neurons into our own gestalt of consciousness, possibly because one does not yet possess the schema required for integration.

The Entheon is the actual dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which is as according to reality (if/when aligned correctly).
The Apotheon is the elevated dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which judges objects and thereby separates them from reality.

The Empatheon is the emotio-judgemental intersection of the psyche, The part of the mind where emotion can be comprehended, reflected and resonated (rather than merely sourced, determined and asserted). As a faculty The Empathion is intersected by both The Entheon and The Apotheon. Things-in-themselves may move through The Empatheon but their movements correspond to a generative dimension which cannot be known by the human psyché.
Illuminated ones move through these dimensions silently.
Yamuna Turco Jan 2019
I am mad
Not just mad, I am furious

People all around me lie
And cheat and steal
But worse they judge
And assume, and stereotype
So I am mad

It is the privileged
It is the privileged who judge the most
In their white castles perched on a cliffside
Their ignorance and lackluster
But they say ignorance is bliss
So I am mad

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”
That's what our constitution says
Yet how can these be ours when those who are unaccepted
Those who are thrown out and tossed aside
Are forced to change for those who dominate them
So I am mad

If only
If only every Black, Asian, Native American,
gay, bi, woman, and person could see
That you are who you are
And not who you are told to be
So how am I to accept myself
If a cab driver I once had rolled his eyes at me and made me squirm in my seat
For wearing a pink wig and all black
So I am mad

I am mad
Because I can not be who I am
Because my curly hair is “too frizzy”
Because I respect the rights of others
I am mad

I am mad that I still have to be mad
I am mad
Because there were so many before me,
Yet I still have to be mad
Mad that the blissful ignorance is far too ignorant
Mad that a quiff-haired, white, christian boy tells me that having a pedophilic and sexist man as a president is better for the well-being of all than a woman ever could be
So I am still mad

I will stay mad
Mad at the ignorant
At the arrogant
At the system for changing once proud groups of people
I am mad
And I will forever be mad
Until I can look a KKK member in the eye without feeling like my life is at risk of ending

A question remains
unanswered;
whereas
An answer is being
questioned too !
A mind remains
unaccepted;
whereas
A body makes another
rejection too !
*
By
Williamsji Maveli

Email:
williamsji@yahoo.com
Thursday, 31.01.13 @2217 hours
Come here
Accept the unaccepted
They need someone to follow
And you're the only one elected.

— The End —