slam poem

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Kids not born with a syndrome, could still inherent trauma  A whole people over four  generations, treated like lower fauna   
1   Her eyes, they were not as bright as they used to be. 2   But even though she mostly wore black, her mind was a rainbow full of colors.
Your boy has talentI see it in his eyesThat voice carries angels to the skyI wouldn't liePray God on highHear me when I sayHe's gonna make it one day.  
If I was in a preppy white girl’s shoes… Alright, got my eyeliner, mascara, red matte lipstick, glitter Germ-X. Ok, Julie, its show biz. Puff up those blonde locks, make sure it gives the boys a shock.
Subtract from these 20 years,Those that I swallowed without tasting-Anesthetize the clocks,Sprinkle Father Time with amnesia,Whisper the year 2011,I am 13 again-
I’ve been through a lot,No one would have thought.All my sweet smiles,The hugs I give in piles.
Happy thoughts   My sweet boy from Neverland, whisked me away into the night. Happy thoughts, needed to fly with delight. Away from the adult world.
First of all, I’m not a poet. I know, What a great way to establish my ethos, but believe me.   I’m just a geeky kid who likes to write sometimes.
I am wonderous, as is that fly in the kitchen.Filled with curiosity, but crushed when not welcomed.  
Someone once told me that there is nothing worse than watching a parent cry as They bury one of their children. I have seen that.
Depressed Depressant The liquid that flows past my lips and scorches my throat Throat Cut-throat At war with myself
You feed me the word oreo And expect me to fill full Satisfied with the sugar You want my big lips to curl around the word My fiery tongue made sweet by the “compliment.” “You’re not like other black girls.”
The act of ignoring someone is: refusing to take notice of or acknowledge them   When you're ignored, you learn to live in a world of silence.
When I first greet the day, it’s not a greeting at all It’s a quiet stirring, an unwillingness to face the day, and overall Quite rude When I open my eyes i’m either faced with blinding rays of
'Calm down.''You're fine.''What's wrong?''Will you please talk?''I want to understand what your anxiety is about.''How's it feel?'
A girl. Eleven years old. Same girl. Twelve years old. Same girl. Fourteen years old. Same girl. Eighteen years old. What do they have in common? They have brown hair. They love to sing. 
these two situations are not ideal in combination: being thirteen, and realizing that gay is a synonym for your name.  but that was my summer before eighth grade.
When I was in the third grade my teacher asked our class to write down one thing we would want to tell the humans of the future.  
some people strike oil when they dig deep for me it was words each time a drill bit hit me, bored a hole in my soul with unkind words, unwant, I wrote, to have some form of pain that
There’s not really anything in this world that I hateBut there’s a lot that I dislike or that irritate meFor me, dislikes are easily explained, while irritations are more complex
I was told that my friends were no good. Single parent home, shattered family values, This was no Leave It To Beaver production.   I was told that my friends were no good,
Smoke fills my nose.The sweet scent tempting, calling me closer. But no! Stay away, your mom and your dad are finally proud of you."We're glad you didn't end up like your brother."
Dear boys:   We have a problem.  
“Have you ever heard of the power of words?” He sounds like some sort of Jehovah’s Witness, standing there on the sidewalk with his books hugged tight to his chest, staring at her with eyes so impossibly wide.
Right now it is 2:00 am and I am awake in bed, staring at the ceiling with glossy eyes as if my mirrored pupils could teach the blue sky above the Atlantic something about reflection.
This one goes out to all of the girls sitting in the audienceWho have had their heart broken! Come on! Raise your hands!Don't be afraid to admit that some guys just deserve to go to Hell!
I don't remember what it's like to feel safe in my own skinI don't remember what it's like to wake up without my heart beating as if hummingbirds are trapped within my chest
Stop. Rewind. I didn't just wake up at 5 am   to sit in a classroom full of people I can't look in the eye I didn't answer that question with spam I'm not thinking about the face somebody gives to you
My bones hang loose. Shaking unconsciously With no rhythmic tune. There’s gravel in your eyes. Was that from when I Tried to run away? Did I spew up the ground when you Said it's too late? Now you're begging me to
I am madness, 
  Perfectly Imperfect I look in the mirror And what do I see? I see an imperfect girl staring back at me. Many flaws do I have, I hate looking at my face,
So there's this girl right? And she always earns good grades, so they put her down out of spite She's been on the high honor roll for as long as she can remember
Written and Directed by Jeremy Velasco
What is love?  Is it that splintering feeling of pain when you reach over from the driver's seat to touch her shoulder and "Apologize" for yelling?  Is it that fear to go to sleep because I know what the alcohol does? 
Time, something al know about, but are still unfamiliar with So many things we can do with time like,.... Measure it, clock it, you can't stop it, watch it go by, spend, waste it,...
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