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Justin Forkpa Jun 2017
Compared to a lot of things around me.
I come from a different world, a world within their world.
A third world.
I come from struggles
From contentment
Wonky neighbors, communities, and families.

I’m a result of conflicts.
Of trivial desires and strong feelings.
                            Of a moment.

I originate from peaceful sights on Golden Beach
From bustling streets with peculiar smells
Sweltering summers and rain invested winters
I originate from Red, White and Blue.
                     From the lone star.

I am the effect of hard work.
Of a fighter
A single mother.
The repercussion of strict rules.
Respect branded in me
Obedience molds my body.

I am an original stereotype, insanely mindful.
I strive to forge new roads.
I am conventionally unconventional
I walk the unpaved jungle lighting my own way.

No matter where I go
There’s one thing I’ll always for sure know

I come from  a different world.
A world within their world, a third world.

I will  always have arms to return.
A culture that is my own.
A sense of self that is me.
David Watt May 2011
Unchained and unbound,
I'm running to no finish.
Famous loved fury,
Blood is running undiminished.

With these teeth,
The flesh I tear.
With these words,
In anger I share!

Twisted and peverse,
I'm enjoying every second.
Delicious pure obscenity,
The fires burn and beckon.

With my eyes,
I consume each emotion,
My presence is toxic,
Like an unlabled potion.

Till chains reach in,
Constrict and bind.
The passion dwindles,
Moralitys so blind.

In my mind,
I'm scared to find,
The damage that is now entwined.
In corners where no light has shined.
I had a nightmare the night i wrote this, it was a rather terrifying dream, I didnt feel myself throughout the whole thing. It was like I was myself but with no inhibitions, just pure desire and limitless anger, though it was scary it was strangely addictive, at the same moment I was desperate to wake up, but equally so confused that I wanted to stay dreaming....I am never going on a coffee binge ever again.......
Lottie Apr 2015
I can smell the table,
Unlabled chemicals and acrid smoke
Radiate off it as though it was still on fire

I can hear the violin,
Unbearably beautiful and haunting
Echoing around at three in the morning

I can hear the voice,
Hollowed out and crackling
While you phone and tell me you're a fraud

I can see the body,
Broken up and bleeding
Because the world just seemed too hard

I can touch the gravestone,
Freshly polished and gleaming
As I ask for one more miracle, Sherlock.
Don't
Be
Dead.

— The End —