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I have a hostageBack away, do what I sayOr come clean up a bloody stageThis ain’t no animeThis here is a 12 gaugeIt ain’t blasphemeIt’s reality without a backstageI am here, with myself
Darkness and isloation the only two things I ever used to know mind your business hold your head down don't let anyone know you are here you exist you take up space but that doesn't matter
My body holds a universe An entire universe There's constant creation Constant disturbance Somedays there's more mass Somedays there's more energy Some things swallowed by blackholes
Poetry is my escape. Kind of like my outlet from the world. Sometimes when I can’t express the way I’m feeling.  I connect with poetry, to release the issues that have been bothering me.
It takes me back to when I was young, Bold. Fearless, and told to “Rub some dirt in it,” Before being fit into a mold And told That this is what life is.
  Preparing for Battle It guards my heart and mind as it has stood the test of time.
When you fantasize of that caress and places its never been shiver at thoughts of hearing warm words you've never heard ectasy you've never experienced only to come down and realize you're your own surprise,  
Behind the filter I am Sylvia. Behind the likes and "thumbs up" I am Lucy. Before the mascara I am a daughter. Named by my free spirited parents' Name sake of shimmering light in the forest. 
Prejudice, Discriminate, & Stereotype.
Rendezvous with the MoonMy Moon.Conquer me. Devour me. Rip me to shreds.Come pour your radiance through my window,Come crawl in my bed.Come toy with my emotions,Come play with my head.
My experience with love is  painful unforgettable betrayal Eight months making memories moments music Proving people wrong with clashing thoughts personalities
I am not the one who can walk into a room and be the center of attention I am not the one who will be voted as prom queen I am not the one who was born with a silver spoon I am not the one who is seemingly perfect
The feeling at hand brings on trouble and issues that I cannot stand It changes my plans and unfortunately, I cannot fuflll its demands I cannot grasp or understand, but I am only aware of how I'm in a jam
Dejection, No affection. Depression, No expression.   Happiness? No. Not anymore. No more blessedness. No more galore.   Why do I still love. Why do I still trust.
Screeching Scratching Goes the door Latching its Latch through The floor The pitching So cruel To my ears After all These years The door Still leers
The release of my emotions, The movement of my soul, The language of my heart, Dance. There are no limitations, no expecations, but only beautiful improvisations. Let go, to feel
An empty casket appears before me I cast my eyes upon the hapless victim This man is my own self There are no mourners attending this funeraul Because the man is technically not even dead
My heart sores like a melting volcano erupting tarring down everything in site.
Love is a question mark that hangs above my head, It is like a butterfly that takes the risk of being dead, Love can be the root to many other emotions, Like despair which is as treacherous as all of the oceans.
My soul succumbs
i'm a leaf being blown across the highway. A rag doll being thrown to the side. i'm controlled by my surroundings.   i',m dependent of what others have in mind,
There's a girl I knew Who wore a curtain over her face That blurred the person underneath And stole her precious personality   She lived on cloud 9 In a house made of broken hearts
Emotions overwhelm my soul as I experience life. Over time I store my emotions in a jar, And ever so slowly, I feel the glass starting to crack, Suddenly, the bottle shatters, forcefully pushing my emotions into the open.
My voice, the smallest in the crowd full of no one. My voice does it tell you who i am what i go through?  Or just tell you what i need to say at that time. My voice can you tell its me, is it really me.
Emotions So hard to express; Feelings So hard to share; Thoughts lost in between what is and what can be. Communicate what is kept inside; Express what lies buried deep;
kicking dust as i move ahead, instead of getting down and dirty. i could, but i’m more of an insider as you can see these sounds; the synergy of cooperation and contemplation
Be yourself Dont let anyone tell you cant be Express, love and smile Thats my style Pink, green, red and blue Let out all your emotions with color that are inside of you
Before, I had nothing. An empty bottle of ink; no quill. Endless. White. Space. Before, I was silent. a pin cushion to prick. a bag to punch. no sound, just space. Before, my emotions hurt.
Throughout elementary school, poetry was just another thing to read. I didn't like it at first, it was a tedious deed. Back then, I was and even still am a shy child. A quiet one, who's imagination was and still is wild.
Little and unknowing, as a girl I would pick up what I didn't yet understand The meaning so lost to new eyes I want it Time flies, the pen is now in my control, the paper my clay to mold
I stand as a shadow among millions of face, my voice is silenced by the echoing river of voices a like. "break free from the drowning"; I scream from the inside, then one day from a blank page, the worlds ears became my canvas.
For the words that don’t come easy The emotions that cease thee. I am alone but am I? Because when this pen hits this paper I fly. No one can understand me better, Than the words that flood this paper.
Smile Ashley! Sit there and look pretty. Only speak when you're spoken to. Show each of them respect, And God knows I did. My heads pounding the more I smile.
In words, there is feeling Love, Lust, and Hate Despise, Passion, Adoration We feel all these things, in association         With Words. When words are released, feelings
 She missed the day he smiled All that it reviled was an innocent child The regrets of the child started to fade Her heart was cut witha blade The blood of a sweet, but soft serenade
Grin at the fact that this page is my shrine.   Where I write what I feel, It's more than surreal.   It's fact. Written down just like that. With the snap of my fingers. Does the impact linger?
Everyone dreams of growing up With memories of when you drank from a sippy cup Places you've dreamed of going Expressing yourself because you're already glowing I want to be free   People may say
I write because I am a citizen who has her rights to speak her mind, To be able to say what spoken words cannot comprehend.  I write to give advice to the teens who don't have someone to confied into,
The beat and lyrics that I always hear Makes the poet inside me wanna appear Incomparable beauty like the Santa Monica pier Addictive like when my dead cousin swallowed the beer
 “A Lifetime of Pain”   I remember it was raining.  
I feel my soul running free with the windChill down my spineGoosebumps on my skinI am free, feeling alive as if everything I lived for was never a lieSo I cry feeling no doubt about to flyFly sky high
my passions and dreams are what leads me today, it's my dear mother that makes me stay. her nagging and doubts pains me to keep, but my heart burns a fire that comes in deep. my passion to dance and sing and act,
I ride the express way because it is the only way I know. I sit on a bench full of euphoric hearsay's. All the while holding on to the steel pole that is my heart
I write in this old composition notebook... pouring heart and mind into the pages Letting the pen do the talking that I can't bring myself to say Freeing the spirits trapped inside me, weighing me down
I never thought much of my poems The silly little things I would scribble in my notebook during class While my Calc teacher would give me numbers to ponder My mind would always stray to words
Every time I look around I see you and me Standing tall and proud This Country the land of the free and home of the brave Soldiers fight day and night, so we can be free Where else where you rather be
-I live a new life now, its with Christ now, no matter how my background went down, my intent now is to live alright now, the wrongs that i write down, insight to fight the wrong so they live right now, im talking right now, im talking bout the ki
Sometimes, things are bad for me, age has nothing to do emotions are real, very real. strong enough to guide me to the bathroom where I sit contemplating the very nerve of my exsistance. I don't need to live.
Don't do it because I need to Don't do it because I suppose to I do it because I want to Writing is a passion; No type of skill; No type of fashion Its a style; A style to speak truth A reality check for some of our youth It drives us kind of craz
Writing is about the fluidity you have as a writer, as a storyteller. You have to pick and choose the words you use. Craft them to your will. Make them paint a picture.    Poetry is a very pure form of 
She lies awake at night The ceiling her best friend Her thoughts race in fright At no point do they end She's never sure about what she sees Always wondering if her head is playing tricks
I was introduced to poetry at a young age it seemed to soothe me when I was in a rage it helped me get through those tough days it helps me explain rather than sorrow in pain
( Fear rules my desires Scared to love and to feel, To put my soul in a bind. Let me throw these thoughts in the fire And watch them turn into ashes.  
The world we live in today is like a big game of follow the leader Everyone wants to portray the things that they seeon T.V. Me?  Well I just want to be me Just because the rapper in the video has money an cars
Poetry, defines me, Literary work in which special intensity, Is given to the expression of feelings and ideaology, Who knew the Poets Me, Poetry, defines me, A way to see clearly,
Poetry is the new way of life And culture is now the virtue It speaks for those who cannot speak Hypothetically But typically It targets the ones who perfom to a specific beat. Poetry is love
I was lost But now I am found I was weak But now I am strong I never knew who "me" was Until I found "me" written all over my notebooks Written all over me.
I write poetry.  Poetry is emotion. Poetry is honest. Poetry is simple. A place i can be myself.   I write poetry to be free. To express myself in ways talking can't.
Why do i write? To let people know the pain that swirls in my heart Because my enemies  like to be mean, the reason for my pain, my start Why do i write? Because no one ever hears my voice in a crowded space
Ever had a night terror that festers your mind, captivates your thoughts and completely blows your mind?  I write to relinquish these dreams.  As a slave to suffering, pain and sorrow, I write to forget, until tomorrow. 
A quiet child with nothing to say As Mommy and Daddy were going in separate ways. Caught in between with her big sister. A child a little too young to have a stony heart.
Show me your story But dont use words, dont speak. Let the novel be written And make it expressive! Your frustrations, tribulations. We want to see, not just me, everybody.
Poetry is no hobby.It is no leisure; no pastime.For these would implythat the choice was mineto thread with such absurd carethese words which are laidupon my metered heart.
I write, Because my hands are spider webs of words That need to be weaved on paper Like an artists’ paint Needs to be swirled around the canvas. I write because someone Out there Needs to know
A pen to paper. That's all it takes for the words to flow. That pen, as it hits the paper, brings a sigh of relief.
My heart over whelmed with emotions, My mind flooded with thoughts. I didn't know how to voice them, So behind my lips words were constantly fought. Tried to voice these emotions in so many ways,
What whisper though the field lily and lilac hush twixt Spring and Summer am I to listen to? And will it hear me too?
Poetry found me when I had just become a teen. Before then I had loved to write but that was just short stories
Bursting at the seams with soul Limitless, feverish in its cage The carnal, vigorous life untold Impossible to assuage.
That Life we Live We don't live the life of boredom We are free, we are birds We are always on the move seeing new things, & new things seeing us..
Standing there alone with no one I can speak to. Standing there alone, with nowhere to receive any advices. They think I'm strong as God and smart as Frankenstein, but whoa they are wrong.
It's what they do For others To express To voice To show For myself To be heard To organize To find
I'm shutting down What else am I to do? Till you come around Till then I'll wait for you So broken How I feel inside words unspoken All these feelings denied
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