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Ilion gray Oct 12
The simple life of pillows,
Or clouds.
Both being of stellar variety.
the burning gasp of being saved,
everything goes eventually,
If  you leave the room
The space will be missing something;
When it is found,
A trillion Seconds you
thought you lost,
will catch up to you.
All things return
To their someplace;
Now all that is earthly
around me,
has begun to rustle
And wave,
There is no other planet to go
To,
There is no farther away,
The machines are eating the child’s
Tomorrow’s,
The air is bleeding
It’s invisible hue,
The earth in search,
Desperate to borrow
Time,
pilfered from
Everything with an ending
The hour is coming,
You and I will seek
It to;
Just up that way
Then to the right,
Through the frozen fields
of nimbus Pass,
Just a horseshoe
toss from
the holy
Water-rise,
Watching,
Where nothing falls-
While the drifting spritzes-
Do not drip-
But climb.

The mountain staircase
Of night;

I will go.

Because the hour draws close;
And soon when the
Unending dusk grows,
No road will be empty.

Perhaps I will
Return to someplace,
That will only be a place
Once I’ve arrived,
Someplace as lost as all the rocks,
I’ll build a throne and observe
The might of the almighty,
The Strong roots of infinite
Shades of blackness-
Where all creation
Happens
KingOfHearts Jul 20
Sometimes it's hard not to fall down.
Clouds have a way of relating.
My mind just gets so foggy.
And then I get tense.
And then I lose all power.
...
Eventually, I'll cry.
But there's only a 75% chance of showers.
Not every time I'll cower.
Changed the poem to better explain my situation.
Daan Vandelay May 2014
I understand you now, I won't bother
you any
more.
:)
Blake Jul 3
Don’t tell me you Understand
Not until you’ve stared at a blank wall
With a blank face
For hours
And cried
Not until you’ve felt
Every little piece inside you break
And instead of feeling pain
Or sadness
You’re numb
Not until you’ve slit your wrists
Not trying to die
But not minding
If you do
Not until you’ve watched blood
Drip down your arm
And thought
It’s a nice colour
Not until you’ve done ****** stunts
And dangerous acts
Just to feel
Alive
Not until you’ve seen inside my head
The thoughts that live there
And tried
To die
Not until you’ve seen and felt
What I have
In this life
Will you ever understand

Don’t tell me you Understand.
Because you don’t.
I don’t
unravel my thoughts,
like a bunch of necklaces tangled together.
unscramble my words,
like a puzzle.
decode the meanings behind my Instagram captions,
to try to understand my ways.
theater class brought me to write this, haven't been in the best state of mind and the whole class i was playing with a small piece of paper.
exist Aug 21
it can be so incredibly amazing
yet so incredibly isolating
to realize you’re one of a kind
and no one will understand your mind
daily struggle
Jaycee Dec 2014
I don't think my friends understand,
That when I'm with them I'm in another land.
A place where I know I'll always be safe,
I won't be judged, I can just be me.

And it means a lot to me that they're there.
They make me feel like I have no need to fear,
I can speak up which is nice becasue I'm quiet.
Usually because I'm trying to avoid riots.

Riots that could hurt me emotionally that is.
I hope I'm being clear and not blurry.
I'm trying to express how it feels to be-
Surrounded by thorns that change into clouds.

Just often enough to make the bleeding stop.
Do you know what it feels like to be that shocked?
It's as if you're drowning and then all of a sudden,
Someone saves you and takes you into their coven.

I'm just glad to not feel as abandoned as I had before.
I'm not alone in heart, I'm just a little sore.
But I'm healing more and more every day.
So that's a good thing, wouldn't you say?
Tea Nov 2013
Letter to the boy who never writes inked words that spell out   I   love   you. But still his ink bleeds in ways I have never seen and it captivates the art inside me. The words them self may not be saying what I wish to hear but the portrait drawn in each letter is creating a beautiful big picture. I am glad you let a lovely spirit bring you to rainbows found in music that spills from your room. You see beauty everywhere and always point it out
I standing right beside you and  I can’t help but feel left out
So I see the fall and all you awes and then I look inside of me
Look hard
Alone and
Scrutinize myself
So here are something s
For between… just you and me

1)When I blush it may not be the subtle pastel you would choose,
But it blossoms on my cheek the color lovely. Crimson colored glasses show all my venerability, making me something authentic. And I like it most days. You can choose to hide your face, to look away but I love the way I am burning.You can't choose my pink or pick it.It is the color it is… well its authentic

2) I care about others to the point of it being a sickness. I have numb hands because anxiety acts in quickness, just like my reactions I am real, emotional and passionate. I see my beauty now and think you can’t have it. Even if I agree about all the other beauties you refuse to see me, and I am lovely, bright, I fit my hands just right, my legs are long and strong and remind me that my feet are my wind, a feather taking me to every place I have ever been and will be.


3) When you talk your words form poetry, but you can give up any time to get to know me, and I’m a piece of art. My colors are what words were made for. My beauty bending the conceptual understanding of language and a word itself. My eyes at any point in time saying more than your fingers ever could, slowly typing out word that beat out simple meaning. Tears fall from me heavy as bricks falling from a height, weighed down with the sorrow picked up through my life.

4) Im not bitter because you didn’t think I was hot. Because shallow boys make me their toy and they all want to play. And that makes me bitter and fules me with hate.  It was nice to find someone who cared a little more, who knew there were four letters to my name. who talked and shared interests. Only bitter now because you like my inside colors, but you didn’t think I was pretty enough to paint. And the deeper pool really was just vain. Tipping at the edge I am just pulled down the drain.

5) Is a secret. I use to hate my smile; my teeth are far from perfect. People were mean, you can say anything about it and I can say I have heard it. Red lipstick is my purple hard. Showing I made it through something mean and mad, perhaps I wish I hadntnt but I had and this is my prize. This is the honorable reminded I wear it with pride. Beaming, my red lips framing what had held me back from smiling for years. And I smile from ear to ear its beautiful.

6) A confession, I hate that you don’t see me, but I love what I see myself. I wish your hand writing wasn’t more appealing than the empty echo of what they tell.
So here is a letter to a boy, who writes in lovely scroll. Who couldn’t love me, if he knew me all. Simply said, I hope you find someone right, not me ever, not me tonight. Bitter without the sweet. To the boy who only writes but doesn't read, who expresses but just cant see, to the other lovely soul confused by all the color... I just needed to write you one last letter.
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