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A swirling pool of restless thoughts swim beneath the surface, Walking down a low lit path, I’m looking for my purpose,
She sits, On the edge of the cliff, Looking down into the waters below. She stands, Looking as if she might jump. She takes a step,
when people ask me who I am, i always give tHem the correct answer. the filtered Answer: ~i am ambiTious "i work hard to bE a leader" ~i am honesT "no lies from tHis gal."
Poetry is the path that self expression bleeds through. Poetry is the emancipation of the soul.
Born in the Flame of the controversial state. They try to burn my fate with bias hate.
Hey. Hi Are you ever going to answer me? Daddy, I know I have screwed up alot, but please just say hi?
Mom a word that's supposed to mean safety,but to me it's the epitome of MAYBE, MAYBE she'll be here tonight or tomorrow, MAYBE out drinking, I'm thinking, this word mom makes me feel irate,
At my high school, I was a guy that everybody knew. Everybody would dap me up and say "That Boy Rube." They could easliy point me out by the waves in my hair and the color of my shoes.
Dear Dad, You're never there, and you'd think I'm mad, but I'd a;ways think You'd have time to spare, for me. Dear Dad, can't you see, you're the one I've never had.
Behind a shadow
The world has not seen who I really am There is a fear whom one may know I am a girl who is afraid to show My laugh is loud and filled with joy People see me as if I’m a toy
Fitting In. Well what does that mean? There are many meanings. To relate just wonder, but don't blunder. You want to be part of a group Have friends to relate too.
I don't make friends easily, I don't put makeup on my clear face, I don't have a sexual drive. In teen words. I am pretty much a fail. I assume I don't belong. To be honest, everyone's so similar and
Like a flood you came crashing through my walls. Giving me all the hope and optimism one should feel with love. You let your waters damage my insides, leaving stains and broken pictures in it's wake.
Master of words? Not really. Bringer of beauty? Not always. Carrier of messages? I hope so.
When my wings got seared off by the sun, when i free fell, saw the ashes of my hopes and dreams gently floating after me, I thought I was done, that the ocean would end my agony
The same brain, body and gender. Having a light make-up, We go out. Wearing pink dresses and high-heels. As usual...
jump head first into the flaming inferno because he told you so try not to sweat when he calls you a pussy let the third degree burns be a reminder to never trust a soul
People say I'm beautiful.
There are moments in the night when I wish for someone to lay next to me, embrace me in their arms, and not let me go till the moon finally takes its leave.
You may only have Two Feet but A step at a time is All it Takes.
Music is everywhere: In the grass, In the wind, In the books, In the kin. Even without acknowledment they play their tunes, not looking for acceptance, nor appreciation.
Sweetheart, let me in.It's time for our lives to b
Inside of me there is an asylum, surrounded by a moat of milky light bulbs; the only bridge burned long ago. The dungeon holds a dragonfly
What is love? his pitiful weeping, hunched shoulders shaking like a 9.5 earthquake his pain, sudden and hot, the mind is blank, but the body still feels his screams of agony, he'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdead
She looks like heaven to me She says no but that's okay not everyone can see The way her eyes shine in the morning
My skin, my bones are crumbling. My remains are becoming dust. And from my decomposing self, I hope that your flowers will grow,
People keep trying to mold me into a star Or a square Or whatever it is they want me to be It doesn’t matter I’ll keep being me And even if all I am is a straight line, That’s just fine.
Feel the breeze sweep listfully forward As you creep slowly toward, That goal you see in you mind Don't stress about the small things Just focus and grow your wings, Don't let anyone tell you "no"
You are always there... When the sun starts its rise The stars and paint merge their glows The night's soft demise As the surrealism flows No matter how unreal Whatever reality may be
I am fragile. To look at me you would see a young woman standing at 5 ft. 3 inches and think “Of course she is fragile.” But no… My stature does not determine my strength.
Singing,Serenade shout.Humming, whistling, chanting.The poetry of speechvocalized.
Music,melodic measure.Dancing, singing, expressing.The feeling soon turnsfloetic.
I don’t know my own words. I don’t know my own voice.
A hush without sounds Envelopes me As the static age of electricity Screams and shrieks over my room Out of the walls, the floor And shush For the sound Is no more
People day by day tell me how blessed I am and how I don't see it
Dance and writing are my outlets. The two things that make me the happiest. Two things I don't do nearly enough of. Maybe that's why I feel sad, stuck, Like something's pent-up, caged, Because they are.
The tears burn my face because of pain I can’t erase I dream of an escape these four walls are gonna take me burry me alive without memories to tell I wonder when I die will I be accepted into hell?
No talking turns into No singing turns into No whisling turns into No humming turns into No noise turns into No thinking turns into No Learning. We don't talk to annoy you.
I never have a free weekend to party or have fun I work in the fields and don't stop until the day is done From six in the morning till seven at night
Sit up straight, chin up, eyes straight ahead. I feel like I'm in a pageant instead of a place of higher learning. I've been here only a few months, but at times my spirit is filled with dread.
I started writing music when I was eleven. First thing I wrote about,was the man up in heaven. I never told anybody i was a writer, I always thought somebody was going to hit me with the three striker.
Her electric soul, her aching soul is scared and shines a cowardly light. They call her humble, humble and divine. Who wouldn’t love a girl with skin so fine?
So you ask, Why Do I Write ? I write because I trust no one but my self. I write because what I have to say is closer to the truth than what another says. I write because its a stress reliever.
Poetry may be just described as words, words, and more words, but did they really look beyond, past the appearance, looking more inwards, to a place that can be unknown even to oneself,
I am a writer, poetry is my soul: I am a writer, poetry came to me on its own. I am a DREAMer, my writing is my voice; I am a DREAMer, poetry runs my thoughts.
Do drugs make faces lie? Does liquor deepen the hole? Cut once to fill it. When mirrors break, glue can only dull shards.
Ink and lead are my voice, From my mouth to ears is not my choice, What I put to paper is my way The spoken word - what I cannot say.
I write as an escape.It started with letter that I would use to flood out all of my emotions.They would be letters that would be specialized for different people.I was the only girl of three and the middle child too.
I did not grow up with poetry.I grew up with music.Yet, to me, the former is no different from the latter. Toes waving in the pool of words beneath me.
Poetry is a living, breathing organism that haunts my every waking moment. It thrives in the darkest recesses of my mind where it waits to be found. It is my shadow.
I write because I can be happy I write because I can be free Writing helps me express unwanted & hidden feelings Writing is what showcases ME
Shit happens I tell myself and move on That basically sums up my life It could always get worse so don't get yourself down Life is a blessing Every time something bad happens I don't let it bother me