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I am never enough for you. Despite our momentary happiness, I still fail to obtain your unreachable standards.
Morning Sky, Rotating Wheel, Marker stains Frozen time Falling sky Expanding world
Olympic queen of bow and arrow Artemis draws and releases Target red, thirty meters Breathe, anticipation Wishing it onwards In search of gold Pierces true Hear the Cheers
The land is a giant whale that swallows the sinker, with hook, line and bait aborting dreams of a good catch fishers turn home at dusk
Good morning to you, American Teen! The only individual tongue-tied enough to conform to arriving at school at six in the morning...without any financial compensation.
Clouds, whether they're cotton candy cliches or warning signs of dark whirl winds. Clouds can tell you all you need to know about the day that will come, or the one that has just past.
In elementary school, administration required my mom to send a handwritten note to excuse me from class My mom always wrote in cursive so I could not read the letter. I felt like a grown up
But never did I think I'd be trapped in such a place Down a rabbit hole Gasping for air In a world of hot pink Where you were the God of gods And I lay at your altar I pout I plead
I just want you to realize I'm not who you think. I'm not happy, mad, sad, upset, I'm not good at rhyming I'm not a bright ray of sunshine, I'm not a dark cloud of despair, I'm just me.
The forest air floats heavy in the trees the ground illuminated by it, a gothic chandelier moonlight dances on the cauldron with contorted contents to puppeteer and so it cooks
To My Dearest Love, My home and my safety have been destroyed. The place I once knew is lost To the distant future.
i found you on facebook a while ago. my friends and i were showing pictures of the people we dated to each other, telling war stories,
Through the arguments and lacking of communication, what is left to talk about? We still have love for one another , but what do I have to do to show you that I love you? Buy you flowers , and call your phone.
Once upon a time In a place far far away Everything was perfect Perfect size Beautiful Happiness It just was
Behold! The gentle touch of dying breath is now upon the gods! That said, their many heads ensure at least one still lives on prolong'd. With recourse yet no further will they stay, but they, against the odds,
Why do they kill the flowers whose dreams float above delicate, skin petals Turning the scorching sun into a sweet nectar blossom? To satisfy the darkened green blades?
When you cry it's like taking a lost, Everybody sees you hurting but can't feel it. You've cried so much that you have no tears left. They don't know how much it hurts, They just see the hurt in your eyes.
I thought I was perfect A man with no defect But when college started I felt that I was parted From the being I used to be No longer wise and strong as he But rather I was weak like a bug
Gentle shadows engulf your footsteps;
I couldn't think of anything I hated more than Nihilism. And Nihilists. And anything that has anything to do with Nihilism. I hated it. It's starting to make sense, though.
The four-eyed, Clawed, Toothed, Mottled-purple and blue- Terror in the closet And under the bed.
For once, I have never felt so desperate judging myself for what I am destined to be. Most don't find themselves until it is no longer expected from them. I am afraid to wait too long.
Raised by ads on MTV faces on CNN words on screens and people without depth I am the product of pixels and vectors-
This is a cold world of ice and sorrow, Wretched and lost, a search for survival. Time does not pass under blankets of snow, Nothing changes in this vicious cycle. A caged songbird that can no longer sing,
He tried. He really did try to make me his everything. And then you got in the way. Funny, ironic even. You told him to love me Then you ruin it the first chance you get. Bipolar much?
You're not who you used to be. You know that. I know you do. But you also don't know who you used to be. You were never strong-willed and you were never really happy.
The patches of grass are blueish if you stay up late — or wake up early enough. If you’re there, you can see the wasps parade angrily or joyfully around the white fog lights.
Misty windows hide my empty eyes. As I lay there every feeling further merges them and me. I've been screaming won't you let me in? Every turning page suffocating you and me. For all the omens that deceive us.
The feeling of warmth comfort solidarity The first feeling of an infant with it's new mother Every person's
I try to put on a brave face, Say I'm strong enough not to need anyone, But I fear most being Alone. Give me the one man I love More than any other, More than he loves himself,
There are many things in this world that I wish I had Several things that are already in my possession And very few things that are essential for my survival But there is only one thing that I actually need
All the world is a stage And I an actor Every morning I wake up And prepare for my show "Seeking Cyrus" I've spent months rehearsing my role Cyrus And everyday I would put on a show
For the rush of intense music & a new beginning can make us all a little delirious, seeing all the excitement of people's faces rushing past, beginnings reaching their ends, & here we all are, barely starting to see but a speck of the whol
No amount of money can take back the yelling, screaming, hurtful words, painful anger brimming over the top not wanting to live. Never having a childhood, failures and faults are endless. Pain lingering from years of abuse.
Six. Six strings. Eighty two. Eighty two keys. A box of reeds. And where does it all take you? A different world waits for you On the other side of these small aspects of your instruments
The earth sprouts new life like love grows attachment and clings on tight. Like a new-born bird taking flight for the first time, leaving the nest, taking chances.
Happiness is yellow and hope is blue, sadness exudes purple, anger breathes red.Trust me, I know.
Am I hated because my style is "odd", Or maybe its the lone wolf style, no squad, Assumed I wasn't pretty like the rest, But if that's the case why am I picked on by the so called "best", You fear me don't you?
She was a cloudy day, threatening to drizzle. Afraid. He is a thunderstorm, begging to be seen. God.
BY EAVAN BOLAND These are outsiders, always. These stars—
BY SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
"Can I have your hand