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rose Sep 2017
my demon is anger.
it rises and erupts in me;
i’m no longer a quiet, cool ocean,
but a fiery, angry volcano.
my demon escapes when i am weakest.
it wants me to be strong,
to dominate.
to destroy.
to be the best.
my demon is my curse.
it’s a part of me.
it makes me, me,
but i think it’s ugly.
it’s hideous.
i want to put an end to the anger,
but with two small hands
i can’t possibly stop a volcano.
i really wanted to see what people though of this. :/ it truly came from the bottom of my heart and i honestly don't know if it is quality poetry.
rose Aug 2017
i’m​ ​possessive.
i​ ​can​ ​be​ ​mean,​ ​even​ ​if​ ​i’m​ ​shy.
especially​ ​to​ ​the​ ​people​ ​i​ ​love.
i​ ​care​ ​for​ ​each​ ​one​ ​of​ ​my​ ​friends​ ​and​ ​family,
that’s​ ​why​ ​it’s​ ​easiest​ ​to
hurt​ ​them.
  Apr 2017 rose
scully
there are girls who exist just like the
ocean, she is in love with the
moon she lets stars run through the
gaps of her gentle fingers like
sand she will say that she has
been in a love that burns and all she will
tell you is that it keeps her humble
and you look at her, all sad and
made up and empty space and you see
something you need to fix, some tide
you need to find a rhythm to while she
brushes her hair with the sunlight and she
fills her mouth with seashells maybe she
is not entirely beautiful because she
is not entirely here because she
would rather float around tied down to the
world like a balloon on a string and you see
this girl, all tired eyes and pouty mouths,
cheeks like wine and movements that
drip honey from her legs and you think that maybe
if you say the right words, you can keep her
close to the ground you can cover her
mouth as she wishes to be a part of the earth
a part of the trees, a part of the flowers that
grow around her feet when she walks you think
for one second, you can take all of her
not-entirely-beautiful and tame it like a
wild horse like a rose you pick the thorns off of
but you cannot love something that
cannot be restrained i am telling you, there are
girls who are made up of other people's words
and their handprints tattoo her body, she has been
hurt but she remains kind
and warm like no one has
done her wrong, and her hair is always messy and you
cannot have her because you do not know how to
love tender, you do not know how to be humble like
she does you are not soft enough to
keep her in your hands without breaking her.
she is in love with the moon because she knows she is
made up of something else entirely, she does not
need your love to keep her contained.
she does not need to be contained.
i tried to write a poem about how sad i feel but i think i ended up just writing about how i dont need anyone to make me whole. i think i just needed to write something down.
rose Apr 2017
the ray of sunlight
peaks through the over sized clouds,
and that’s when i want to wave hello to the shining light
that is calling my name.
i shield my oval eyes, watch the darkness
that surrounds the sunlight
[ the small dust particles all around
light up too, as luminous as the sun itself ]
i want to run towards this crepuscular ray
- this bright, shining light - that pleads for me.
i’ll skip on clouds, dance till i reach my destination
i’ll run up to the sky, bask in the single ray
of light
that is slowly fading.
i’ll lie underneath its radiance,
until it finally  d i s a p p e a r s .
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