random poem of fate

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Brighter Day


HOW would you feel if you were talked about to your face?

You would feel as if they hate you and you're a mistake.

WHATwould you do if you didn't fit it?

Another bathroom to eat your lunch is where you'd sit in.

WHY should anyone feel unappreciated?

They shouldn't and they really truly hate it.

WHEN do you stick up for youself and take a stand?

Everytime they make you feel unworthy or raise a hand.

WHO are those in need of a friend?

Your classmate you tripped and he fell and hit his head.

Stop bullying, stop and think about what you say.

It could affect anyone at any time of the day.

It sticks with them for the rest of their lives,

because of bullying, do you understand how many people die?


It's All In My Head

I am vomitng words on a paper

Each dry heave gets me closer to exhaustion

But I keep going

Everything is a mess

And only the pen and paper know

So I scribble words as if on my death bed

Furious like a mad scientist

For hours this torment goes on

And I cry while I let out my troubles

I keep a cycle of anger, sadness and self pity

This wheel turns till finally I sleep

Lost among papers is my body

Smeared with ink and tears

I know when I wake up, I'll burn those papers and let the fire take my burden




As I am learning to get control of my depression I found that when I write I let loose all things I bottled for years. Sometimes I just need to spew out all these emotions and move on with my life.


On Tuesday October 21 2014

At 9:00pm

I looked through a broken window

With a broken heart

Thinking about this broken society

And their broken mentality

Because they seek not after God

But after vanity

So unstable with world’s anger and stability.

I see humans but there’s no humanity

World sinking in imperfect melody

Lost in profanity

And the only way is true Christianity

Without Jesus, Son Of God, Leads to insanity.

Everything is floating like there’s gravity.


Vanity in the Winter of Seventh Grade Or Confession

As a middle schooler, I liked the way snowflakes clung to my long, mahogany hair. I liked having big strong boots and thick coats with fur on the hood, my softly curled hair resplendent across my shoulders. I imagined I looked strong, something worthy of a double take. I really had no idea if the snowflakes, catching in my hair and eyelashes, ever made anyone look twice, but I never wore hats, just in case someone, even once, just once, would look to see the perfect melting white spots the way I did, like pearls in the hair of a bride or stars in a great black sky. I claimed, when people asked, that I didn’t wear hats because the cold didn’t affect me, but only because that was easier than saying, “I think I am beautiful.”

For the record, my ears got pretty cold.

This poem is about: 
Our world



A thousand stories
Written all over my skin.
Every single thing that I have been through
Is on display for the entire world to see.
My first crush,
My first love,
The cheater,
The abuser,
Every time I was called fat,
Every thing that hurt me,
Every time I wasn't good enough,
Every panic attack,
Every hospital trip,
Every attempt,
All written in a thin white line
Some bigger than others,
Some pinker than others,
Some old,
Some new.
My body was a canvas.
It was overused.
I remember everything
Every time I go out without long sleeves,
Or in summer wearing a swim suit,
Or every time I look at myself in the mirror
Before a shower.
They won't go.
I don't want them to.
I remember who I was,
And who I am.


You Were My Dream

My dearest Zac,

The words spilled out of your mouth 

Apologies fell onto the table 

Excuses splashed into my coffee so that it tasted like lead when I drank it. 

You took the stars I once saw in your eyes 

And they shattered like glass around our feet. 

You asked for space 

And time

And distance 

And a collection of other intangible objects 

As if I kept them in my pocket. 

You gave me every reason to walk away,

But I stayed. 

For all my life I wanted you. 

You were my dream 

My goal

My plan. 

I could not bare to let you take the blame for what you did. 

Because I knew about it all. 

Not who

Not what

But I knew that I did not have all of you. 

That a part of you was always somewhere else. 

So I said yes

And yes

And yes to things that neither of us wanted to do. 

I thought that was the missing piece of you.

And I was right. 

But I was wrong to think it would make you want to stay. 

See, I was selfish

And you were unfaithful. 

But I am sentimental,

And you are convincing. 

And so that is why we sit here 

Our hurt tingling like electricity in the air  

Like flies buzzing in empty heads

Neither of us ready to be the first to walk away. 

But I am young 

And have not learned 

And am still selfish. 

And so I sit here, 

Planted in the past,

Clinging to my childhood dream of us, 

And make you be the one to get up from this table

And walk out the door 

Into the cold and lonely night. 

   Until we meet again, 


This poem is about: 





Fall in love with a poet

They will make you feel a thousand emotions all at once.

Their carnal tongue, speaking foriegn dialect on your skin.

Their promiscuous heart made their chest felt like home.

Salacious mouth which can bring you down to your knees, 

You'll want to dive into them giving your all.

Just to realize it was all a dilusion.


The Vacancy Sign

Wed, 07/09/2014 - 17:15 -- blue655

There is a vacancy sign

In the window of our hearts

Shining in the lightest mind

Separating the dark

A figure advances slowly

Knowing it is unwelcome here

Pretending it is weak and lowly

Tricking us away from fear

It calls to the front desk

Hiding its wretched face

Claiming it seeks rest

Hoping to see you waste

You welcome it in

Your innocence bright

You hate to see it thin

How could it possibly bite?

It stays for weeks

Not saying a word

Becoming a leech

Watching lines blur

Then there is devastation

And you try to shoo it away

But it stays without hesitation

Laughing at your child's play

You beg it to leave

Promising riches and gold

You begin to grieve

And it tightens its hold

Your heart cries out

Is anyone their?

I'm broken now

It's more than I can bear!

Then a light appears

Your cries have been heard

You know it will sear

But it is worth the burn

The battle ensues

The swords ring and crash

But you know who will lose

You know it with every flash

With one mighty blow

The enemy falls

The light starts to flow

Filling every hall

You run to the light

Overflowing with thanksgiving

You understand the white

It is ever living

Why did we give room

To a creature of devastation

When we could have let bloom

The flower of salvation








Knocked Down

Fri, 01/03/2014 - 19:52 -- naomi_w

It rises

and falls

only to rise again.


A circadian pattern,

until one day it falls too hard.


Shattered and torn,

It attempts to rise.


But this time, 

no light reaches the surface.


What Is Joy?


To have joy is to have satisfaction

To be fully content in what you have


To let your guard down and be able to let people pass your fences

and all thos false pretenses


Because to have joy is to finally let your

anticipators past your illusions of nonchalance 


To have joy is to be able to feel emotion,

but only the good ones.

The ones that bring love and happiness


To have joy is to not have thought of decilation and despair

but to dream of 

anticipation in love.