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Life is not a walk in the park Not a nice park anyway Yes, there are trees and flowers And lovely sunsets too But Under the picture-perfect skies The brutal game is on
Érase un ser vagando sin rumbo Con una mochila a sus espaldas Para recorrer el mundo. Érase una mochila cargada De chuchillas, piedras y recuerdos Pesados, pesadas y oxidadas.
I'm on a little boat Which was never meant to set sail. I'm on a little boat, It is anchored by the bay. I'm on a little boat From where I greet you every day. I'm on a little boat
I'm falling But you won't catch me. I'm falling, Landing out this time. I'm falling But you didn't push me. I'm falling But you didn't pull me. "I can't help it if you're falling"
Open your eyes.long have they waited for you to wake.One hundred years ago, they saw light.Don't you think they deserve to again?  
Look down at me.  The shapes you see, that could easily be reflections of who you want, If you forget it's just me.  And does it matter, the bleak expression unforgettably cutting across my eyes?
A rose Beautiful, with sharp prickly points Viewed from any angle, it is still a rose From an optimist's perspective, A wonderful bloom of color From a pessimist's eyes, A withered, flowerless vine,
A stained glass tragedy A matching crystal ball Tossed much like that of bowling Speeding orbs down God's old rumored hall
Time was like water, But you were like wine Sweet ocean, bruised and black Bleeding the times
I can be the dyed rose petals scattered on your bed Whispering of love's lost chances, piercing veins instead Now we've scattered too, like them, who've long since lost their voice
Fireflies flutter deeply within while knowing he will flee again pierces my chest Desire swells in these lips which ache to sip of him
Pieces moved across a flat board - a metaphor surely with some of us pawns ( the majority maybe) and very few kings. And this is symbolic both historically and personally
Pieces moved across a flat board - a metaphor surely with some of us pawns ( the majority maybe) and very few kings. And this is symbolic both historically and personally
 LIONESS   Go into your cave Lick your woundsI understand You're a leo too....   You give all of what you gotAll that you can do....
KISS ME YOU FOOL!!  I know you understand me  It's uncanny   We have a rhyme  Unlike the many      we spent time .... 
YOU, ME and THE SEA   The wind carried the ocean’s voice to me she whispered:         “Come to me my lover         I hear you love another         Bring her to me
IT’S ALL ABOUT LOVE     Did you feel the rain?  The pictures and words  that floated by tonight...    Did you listen To the rain?  That tapped your shoulder 
AND WE FOUND ALL THAT   I know agony. I know victory. I thought I knew love...   My nights sleeping with shadows       of empty arms. And lonely dreams 
MY HEART FLIES   My heart flies to you No one in the world Moves me like you do..   Wings to lift my heart When we are apart Until I'm in your arms Once again And then...
i long to write thousands of breathtaking metaphors about you,   but you always seem to stump me.   to what can i compare your features?   flowers? fruit? freedom?  
If I were to have my very own genie to grant me three wishes, as in the tales of old I would ask for but one- let not this new found bliss come to an end, although it is said
A clean and clear, white sheet of paper; messed by ink. The world and me, the people here; we live that brink. Just like this night -- a villain veiled -- and then I sigh. This tyrant darkness shakes my shoulders. Solitude!
Heart and mind a separate creature Disparate in every feature Matched and mirrored, evil twins And this is where our play begins Heart a mass of nerves, emotions Torn to shreds by its devotions
Why must every metaphor be taken literally? For a dog that lays in the sun has no feline whiskers and a wilted rose still receives its beauteous name.  
The night is a closed chest—   someone is standing inside under its vaulted, holy black cloisters…   two someones, and another dozen: they jump up and down, up and down.  
The man walked down the windy road to see what he could find. After several minutes the road jumped up and he was sure he lost his mind.
When flying, One should be careful.   So many things could go wrong.   You could be like Icarus-- so enamored  by the light by the wind and the great,
If I were to have my very own genie to grant me three wishes, as in tales of old I would ask for but one- let not this new- found bliss come to an end, although it is said all good things must.
The beautiful crystalline snow- falls from the Heavens to the earth below. The wind swirls it with a playful gust it blankets the ground like diamond dust. When young and fresh
Dandelions, yellow splotches speckle verdant lawns while violets wow with their purple pomp Ah! April's awe of jonquils lilacs and crocus like a heavenly chorus
My heart is like an unformed lump in the hands of a sculptor- you. Who with love can transform it into a thing of beauty to be cherished and admired... Or-
So much relies uponLittle working bees.From cold winters to scorching summers,The bees never failTo contribute for their hive.  
They must endure the twin hardships of hunger and cold, their home the frozen tundra. They often starve when game is scarce and the hunt has gone badly. And if these sufferings
They are thoroughly domesticated- and some unfortunates are driven to the point of cowering. They will gladly beg for a bone and to receive table scraps- is to be in Heaven.
I know you've seen the empty cave That echoes deep regret For time lost here casts darker shadows Than memory's silhouette
Is freedom merely illusion like a mirage, so real, so clear? Do I struggle in vain to reach it, just to watch it disappear? An elusive, distant shimmering dream, promising sweet salvation?
The flame has a life of its own Mysteriously ignited by the fuel of existence and Set ablaze by the quaintness of the world’s wonders, Wee beginnings as a single spark in a pit of ember
Mason’s garden  Impeccablein placementand in shaping,row on rowof topiaryin greys and reds.
Ch'an music II Drink in a whilethe image ofan unfilled teacup. Enter that spaceflawless, open,enclosed by porcelain walls.
The wound seeps and drains its fluids Around the feverish swollen area of the Initial attack.  Pea sized shapes of plasma Drip down to the calloused elbow sliding Along like rain on a pane of glass. In its
The moon is determined Shining above for the world to see Showing his face in the day Where he is least welcome   The moon is determened He smiles broadly in the light of his love
Sides a flutter, do note deprive, All but the shutter, it is but alive. No words to reveal, Nor times to unshield. Believe in only one's own, Yet follow the severed sides that shiver endlessly,
While sitting in a small, dimly-lit coffee shop, my eye is caught by a small decorative pillow sulking in the corner on a long wooden bench.
a feather at one’s nape:amidst that cocktail ofsound   sight      scenthis piqued some part of me;wafting, it beckonedand stroked my core.
Hiding, watching, waiting I’m sitting in the shadows Peaking through the curtains In the darkness enclosed Waiting for him   Hiding, watching, waiting I sip my cup of black tea
You are where the sea and the sky meet-A line of the horizon that many have tried to reachBut so magnificent, so beautiful, so ever changing,that no one can help themselves There are stories you tell of merfolk and fae, that you know like they are
Every petal painted pink and prime,Green leaves arranged with perfect symmetry,A few bright shades with which to tell a life,And yet a yearning in the purity. Structure formed and inside wholly planned,Meticulously minding every speck,Ideal distri
I remember giving a bracelet to one of my babysitter's when I was young. I made it out of my mother's yarn.
I remember picking dandelions as a kid gathering a bouquet to bring to my teacher or mom the innocence behind it I didn't know that these beautiful flowers were actually
There is a collection tray, Decorated with a golden cover And pretty rocks the crows brought; As it is passed around The false silver scream at false gold, Both bronze,
A broken soldier in the quiet night dying to take back the light head high in a losing fight  to hide from those who know   with each swing, a child died not just his, but the one inside
Because Summer       is like  a High School fling;her  faux-blonde            bun tied    atop her headwrapped    in    box-braids—wild weave feeding      
My therapist said that I might have PTSD;that the sight of any bug in my bed may send   me into hysterics. She says that I’m scythingtoo much skin off around my ankles, and my    
The way her hair fell onhis chest, the pattern ofher smeared lipstick;   a flesh planchettehumming againstthe ribcage   of a poet who neverwrote hisown poetry.
many of my poems are pearls wrapped around a tiny grain of metaphor
"The dead rise in classic form,Shakespearean and angry,to touch my body."-- Dancing Bear, The Dead     
a graying, yellow ribbontied around my neck;fraying daffodils in bloom.
There was a rose that stood out from all the red ravishing ones. This one bloomed too early onto the sacred ground of Mother Nature's beautiful creation,
Hi, shiny sweetheart! When I am lost, I write you. You brighten me up!
I could hear the wind, rustling through your veins, when you opened your mouth and the gnarled wings of a hummingbird fell out. I could taste the regret,
Years of lost time Quietly echo Sentiments of regret, Remorse, And a vague sort-of hatred.   I wanted to tell you,
Baby birds and food. Who is going to feed them? Stomachs growl for food.
Rose petals wrap against each other in their whispered secrets; too scared to reveal the charms they own. Masks are not ever real.
You, my dear, are a bomb You have reduced me to sheer atoms With the force of your eloquent words Stronger than any weapon that the hands of man have produced
The fall was harsh, the winter was bitter. A frozen field failed to yield spring life except for one flower. It was no quitter. It pushed and pounded on the ice in strife  
I want to say thank you For showing me how to love, But more importantly How to give Without an ulterior.   I want to say thank you
i am deep in a forest;  disoriented.  my vision blurs with tears, my legs buckle and I crawl hands and knees,  through mud and thickets, my skin shredded by thorns, sweat running down my back.
Hazel eyes staring back through the thin glass of her reflection as she glances at her features; knotty brown hair curling at the ends, creating false little smiles framing her cheeks, listless eyes finding every imperfection and criticizing every
Whispers drift with the salty breeze. Oh, my dear. His tender hand brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. Just, for me, bear it a little longer. Let’s enjoy the fireworks at eight.
It's been a long time since I've written anything, but I have the biggest crush so... there's that.       I'm sending you a Party invitation I hope you'll respond
The beat of the drums shook the Earth, but my feet remained unmoved, tripping and trying to search for the right jive and groove.   Trickling in from the heavens came that fateful, unexpected storm,
Tulips, The color of sweetened cream. Delicate, like the whisper, Lulling you into dreams.    Burning crimson, Cutting through chilled air, Precise on a frozen branch,
  Soothing, gentle winds blow                                           through your cold gray castle                                            Yet you say there is no peace  
Adolescent girls held each other when movies got scary and spied on their neighbors during weekly feuds. Conversations about homework and boys   danced around them like a protective halo.
I’m living life in a river bed -- The path was drawn before I was born. The world is so loud and full of life, But silence cannot be hidden here.   I’m living life in a river bed --
    i blind those that blaspheme my   omnipresent and invisible nature.   to my shoving nudges   you deny and you tear   and shield your eyes from  
I love you! And I don’t know how to tell you that I love you Is the problem that we’re having here The thing is you don’t even realize How much I love you And you won’t unless I make you realize
As she looks out the window, her tail swishes. Is this what’s become of her wishes? This panther turned domestic Is no less majestic Than the vision of herself That she left high on a shelf.
Please fill my lungs up with sealing wax Archaic artifice is familiar; let this be how I die I could not live with myself In these twisted refractions    I could not go on
Her heart seemed to of thudded against the floor I looked at her Her mouth agape and a string of blood Slowly drips from her mouth To the floor
“We'll begin / With a spin / Traveling in / The world of my creation / What we'll see / Will defy / Explanation” -Pure Imagination, Gene Wilder   Come along, my friend.  
The silk-soft dewdrops crash so quickly against the calloused ground,The scent of fresh earth fills my nose.The birds take cover all around,I see the blooming of a rose. Calmness fills the silence,I watch the soft flowers be rinsed.The water glide
Everyone tells me what I did wrong and how to fix it for next time. Next time. Next time there won’t be a next time. There are too many holes and trysts and trails in my heart I’m shutting it all down.
I am An undiscovered oilfield; dust driving dry over it. Covered in layers of crust, hidden from the world. So much untapped potential waiting to be found.
 There's this fine divine bottle of 1961 Bordeaux. Her curves would make the strongest man weak. From the silk feel of her hair to the soles of her feet,
ravenous creature feeding on scraps and whispers tired of waiting   no longer sitting patiently or silently
we are more. more than you remember. we were fire. maybe I was just the lighter maybe you were all the trees burning off us maybe you saw me as the candle,
Dear Beautiful, How can I say that I lived enough if I didn't know who you was You entered my life like a tour bus So I chased you and this time it'll be the two of us This is a new year and a new me
we are monsters together, huddled under the bed of our childhood selves, keeping each other warm when there is nothing to eat but nightmares.
Sweet fruit, Forbidden fruit, I shall ignore god's warning, For to taste ambrosia I shall sin ten-thousand times more. I cannot resist the serpent, Nor do I think I would so desire.  
Go to a museum and look at a painting Observe it carefully…you got it? Good Now close your eyes and describe the painting Did it have meaning? How was the technique? Was the artist famous? Did you feel any emotions?
There was once a young kid of Madrid Whose smile they could never get rid. They wanted to throw him To break him, to stone him. But he wasn't- 'twas only forbid. 
The weeping willow An interesting fellow. Is she really sad?   Her drooping branches Can hide contempt and sorrow Only known to her.   And i never know If the weeping willow tree
i love you in the same way that a wave crashesthen comes up slowlyto kiss your feet.  
You are crisp summer grass, the crunch of fallen leaves You are dandelion tufts floating on a spring breeze You are the muffled crunch of winter's icy freeze You are the sun and moon, the mountains and seas
The woods are where the bad things happen, they said Where the evil goes To celebrate its victories To dance with hungry wolves
I drove through the city today.The one you always tell me about.The old bricks seemed to scream your name.And my heart, it burned hotter than the forges of the factory fires.I wish I could tell you about it.
The darkness buried within my soul, has the capability to eat my mind whole. The words that I try and speak the actions I try and keep, are in itself; pure beauty.
the constanants tingle, the vowels vibrate into placenot quite creating the words but leaving in my brain a faint traceI can feel them in my body, they move from my head into my heart
  I was a latent volcano with lust to erupt only I didn’t know it, the sides of my mouth curling upwards in grotesque clown grins
The Broken Hinged Door By Zoe Pierson   It’s seen the good, the battered, the blessings, and scorn.  The late nights of sneaking out, the arrivals of long gone people, the past, the present, 
i feel like a shell; a phrase which doesn’t suggest i feel hollow.   a shell protects whats inside, but that isn’t to say that
When you speak, your voice is a sigh Everything you say sounds like a ghost And when you take a breath I can hear you wondering how you died and if this is heaven
Anyone who's been on a roller coaster can tell you, there are ups and downs and loops and twists. For the thrill-seekers, it's a rush but for the fearful, the worst part is knowing that
My head and heart is a dark, vast fieldA place of undead truths and haunting liesDangerous secrets and a muddle of negativityAnd this is why, towards such things, my lips are sealed
I am from the seeds dropped from familiar hands, dug into the cigar box storing old memories, sprinkled lightly onto the soil which bore me into this earth,
Six thirty— Alarm rings; I text my boyfriend I love him, And go back to bed.   Six forty five— Alarm rings again; And I get out of bed.   Thus begins every school day,
...And oh, he's pretty.   But he's pretty the way sunsets are pretty  because the thing that makes them so pretty is the very pollution that fills your lungs with poison,
She saw the waves crash a storm against cheeksCracking hurricanes into men's eyesDroplets of rain trickled endlessly into puddles of veinsCreating a reserve of rainy day puddles to look back on.
There was a looming sadness cast over the age of men, a shadow of the greatness to come.
Standing back To see it all Every vivid curve Paint portraying Each lesson learned Each moment of pain Each difficult day   To see it all Connect and flow
plesant as a peach baby from the beach not a lot on her mind, just pockets full of lost dimes  little red rocket crusing down the street the sun and its heat, keep making her scabs sting sweaty and petty 
My job: To write down everything for those of you who can’t. I’m a scribe for the eyes who stare at blank pages, with too much to say, but no words to say it.
Not all that is magic comes out of a black top hat Because stars burn above in pitch black. It's a clump of gas that can hardly contain itself But that doesn't stop us from looking up And spilling our hearts out.
I cannot shake this feeling Like an itch you cannot scratch, Sitting under darkened skies Ready to collapse.
On the days you don’t feel appreciated Just know that we are here To guide you through the thunderstorms And comfort you out of fear  
You’re a fragile spirit, afraid to leave the grave of which you were laid to rest. Metaphorically, of course… Flowers used to grow in your veins and now they’ve long withered away and died.
   I was once a Mo(u)rning tide, Lifeless due to the moon's Departure. And so I'd push back into the Sea and hide, because my purpose was unsure.  
Nightfall is honest, For when the dawn comes, the sun awakens, I too.   The truth dies with rising gold, a new lie spun for all's eyes.
everything i write lately has been nothing but pain but i fail to notice all the flowers growing from the rain i see the storm  not the cleanse i see a new beginning  as the end
  Sing. Sing your note, That sonorous, twin-cam tune that makes all of my kind— That makes all of our hearts beat that much harder.   Let me fling you around.
Fluttering wings mark a descent from the skyGossamer weight that bends the stemThe Butterfly drinks the Aster dryAnd without a thought, takes to the heavens again
Welcome, vessels of flesh and bloodTo my humble theatre, why have you come?Was it fear that brought you here?New toys for the puppeteer
You are the cartographerAnd I, the compass roseYour maps show where we've already beenBut there are other places still to go
I wish I were among the stars There is better than where we are I'd shine above the world below And sparkle when I wanted so Down here on solid ground there's hate Life comes with all this stress and weight
A lover I once had was like a stone. Constantly cold and forever unamused, they seemed an unlikely candidate, but despite all of this, they made me feel at home.
i wake up to pale sunlightfiltering through my pink curtainsstaining my eyelids a sleepy rosemy fingers wander to my bed framesmooth and white, embellished with seashells
The happiest absolute of life to live, would be to start the work, unnamed, in death, But confused above this harsh world, I'd died a worker with the riches. That everything you wouldn't lose,
The first gunshot panged across every acre as the warcry of a thousand giddy generals seized the shot’s dominance and monopolized the airwaves.
Never been the luckiest prisoner / no time off from off days / lost hair / inmates claiming they're all innocent / i am too / got lost on my way to school / they told me the wrong route / had me try on this suit / shit im scared / if the shoe fits
Lately this darkness has been eating me aliveThis darkness that I was lost in.Standing in that extra 7 miles.I was a fool to have walked in it.Like a chemist, you brewed up meth.Feeding me with happiness,
We were like a summer suntan. It took time to create but once it was there Man, it was beautiful.   We had it all. We were the romance of movies. It was quick and easy
I am just like an airplane I sometimes encounter turbulence, but I push through The weather behind me is forgiven and forgotten as I make my way towards blue skies
My family is the woods. My dad is the dirt, giving us a solid foundation to grow in. My mom is the tallest tree, overseeing everything that occurs. My brother is the opposite bank of the creek,
Words like knives. Spoke like rain. Everything he said drove me insane. Lips like cherries.Tongue like viper. Everything I said, shot down, sniper.
She's not sure which matters So as voices of conciousness and wisdom enter They only glide across her ears inquire at the door of logic's acceptance and are silently lead through the corridor  
  I am a seed I am planted and nurtured, carefully tended as I grow, there is no knowledge of what I will become, a beginning awaiting I am a flower
Dear lover, ​I write a lot. There are words scribbled on my palms, my arms.
*/ /*-->*/ The old sweater I hadn't worn in awhile –
It’s strange, isn’t it? Its warmth is needed for survival But as soon as you reach toward it As soon as you try to look at it a little more closely You get burned You're blinded
Around us
Settle down butterfly, one more wish and maybe you'll fly. Days on end with no hope again,
On Tuesday I ran home Just to get away from school I can't stand how the people Are so judging, are so cruel   They look at me, disgusted As if they wish that I was dead
Sitting on the outside of the prison cell stari
Colours we strive to leave behind, Hope of a future beyond our lives. A legacy at the mercy of future generations, It's the only variation.  
The ocean has
I will not hold a lie against my face, a pixellated mask, heavy on my conscience. The sound of youth constructing barriers of separation is thunderous and inescapable. Their tiny, rough hands
You were born.
You were so sweet I knew better than to try to consume you all at once If i over indulge then my stomach would ache So i told myself "maybe just a taste" But you weren't composed of artificial flavors
Dangling slow from groping hands,Gently aflutter, wing'ed lace is limp.Tired wings flitting, once grand.How wrinkled and red and crimped.Would they blame nectar? Would they blame
  Another world inside of me That no one else will ever see Mostly it is comforting But in the dark where no one sees It's actually quite lonely..
It sends bitter orders through your veins.
You contradict my perspective.Never consider my mind.
I am made of sticks and stones. I rebuilt myself from those I found Strewn about the kitchen floor, Remnants of your drunken tirades. My bones felt hollow When I learned that yours
You were a bird Free, fragile He was a vulture Cruel, devious You were a storm Somber, dark
Who am I really?   
Your touch leaves warm, visible prints
From our view the moon goes into secrecy almost every month; it simply makes itself invisible to or eyes, but it always comes back; the moon aways ends its secret ventures. Maybe we are sometimes like the moon,
He'll beat you with secrets He'll be drunk off lies You'd be a fool to fall into his trap   I know I cannot control you Your life is yours to live Experiment with your set of boys in
(OR: Loosing Game We're Playing)
Me without a filter is a home without the realtor I'm independent I'm meant to be more than what society's telling me selling me without the sticker that says I'm old, off the kilter
i know you thought  he was the galaxies and the stars, but he isn't;
All was in vain We knew it Our hearts have fractured But only I am pierced  by the shards Now words are exchanged You didn’t know how you spoke Through the emptiness of your eyes
I am I am the bright sun that lights up your dark world I wonder if I could be shut 
Fly away, Butterly Spread your wings
I felt the raft under my foot, Below the wood, the water shook.
       A sorrowful painter never shows their work, wrapped in memories, connecting words unspoken.// Aching with attention, craving another stroke of the brush, gently gliding over rough canvases.// Leaking misery the paint drips, along with your
Much like a woman is the sky. In the afternoon she is there, attending to her daily routine. She shines bright, yet is taken for granted most days. As evening nears, the night is only just beginning. 
Your Love is
Every morning I awake With the Overbearing Sense of Dread That everyone Expects Me To carry Silently.  This
We hide inside our separate corners 
I'm holding into this string This string is an unstable cable shaky and weak This string is tangled, and ruined, and soon it will wither and break It's no longer strong for the years have made it weary.
The last of our time
My hair has always reminded me of the ocean
It has been an era since I have gazed Into the mirrored eyes of morning. The thought lingers in an ocean Of fruitless expectation. The yearning, thirsting shore Waits untouched by equipoised waves
You told me I couldn't You called me stupid You made a "what not to do" example out of me And here I still stand   Can a stupid kid graduate high school with a certificate in Graphic Design?
The clouds have veins, at the end of the day, when the sun kisses the edges, and the purple spreads along the blue, dancing on the white
I found a weed in the garden and called it  "a beautiful flower" but they smacked my hand and called it  "disgusting" "a pest" "undsesirable" and pulled its roots from the ground
we are full of stories to tell memories we store and dreams that we sell soon they fade from view sadly they dry as the morning dew ignorant of a dream's worth or a lesson to which  memory gave birth
I fell in love with the ocean, Its murky depths became my home. Everyday I would go to her, Skip rocks over her delicate skin, And she would tickle my limbs, Her cold hands trembling in my presence.
Floor 89.   I think I'm dying, Could it be that I have forgotten how to breathe? In and out with every breath my lungs repeat
You are the sky I am the sea and although we make each other complete the universe says we shall never meet.    We are divided by a horizon made prevalent by the sun that you see
Imagine a train station- Bustling with people- Crammed with bodies and breath, Eyes looking towards the ground- Avoiding those whom are pressed against them in every direction,
How do others expect me to describe you? How do you describe what growing feels like? How do you describe what breathing feels like? How do you describe what being asleep feels like?
In a city where I wander,
As I gaze into the jeweled night
In a nearby field, there lives a rose, as wild a creature as an unbridled stallion, an old friend of mine.
    I once knew a girl,
Do you hate the way     that our magnetized timesturn us all to metal shavings--     push and pull--charged eachday to fill up negative spacewith negative attraction?Were you repulsed when polarities
You are my sweetest garden of effervescent lilies And the winter’s tender whistle of song in my ear The hour when a rainbow first awakens And a sunset’s dewy tears turn to skyfall
Trembling, he sits and waits for the news. Something terrible happened. His mother had called him in the middle Of a chemistry test, His favorite class. “Tyler,” she had said “I need you, come home.”
Like the eternal night And the ethereal day My mind cannot stop, Its brakes made of glass.   Thinking consistently, Delicate matters only. Like ancient clockwork,
There was no point in saving that part of the garden, for it was long gone. The flowers, dead and dry, no longer vibrant with color, laid stiffly parallel to the ground. The soil, too, was devoid of nutrients.
A beast is all that I am. Nothing is all that I have.
Depression is a widow's veil. A black, looming object..light and wispy, blowing with every change of the wind.  It's flowery design serves to hide the pain and agony that lies beneath. 
Music is everything It is soul It is raw emotion It is joy and it is fear It is sight while it is sound
confident yet insecure
I've been pulled out to sea, Dragged underwater, Drowning.  But physically, I am smiling and free.
I'm a mess
Love is a stapler without the staples—
It dances gently in the breeze And glows a gentle red The smoke causes a violent wheeze The light of a flame has misled So many to the brink of death But I will not fall victim to these tricks
I close my eyes.   I want to see The canopy of oaks Dancing together        Swaying Their mossy branches Back and forth To their natural rhythm   I want to smell
Morning mist settles silently upon the pond. A chilling dampness curses this horrid ground. Nothing stirs or voices opinion. Once full of life, now desolate, cold. No frogs singing, dragonflies dancing, ducks diving.
You start from who you are; Sweet, innocent, and caring. people ask and you say you're ok but no one knows how you're truly faring.
Don’t mind me I’m really ok I just don’t want to be awake All I ever do is make mistakes Don’t find me I’m running away I just don’t want to be Someone like me
Nature. It surrouds us. With its leaves, soft petals, and twisting vines it produces a never-ending beauty. It helps us relax. It helps us grow. It helps us
It was him
The women, who face persecution still With paychecks that won’t fill the bill What about the others The internment camp group Japanese who were captured and colored As terrorists and Worse communists
It is the peak of a mountain Looking out onto the snow covered waves of rock Inhaling the clean crisp air As a single bald eagle soars above   It is the clear night sky uneffected by ambient light
My mother of Resolution A mother of hope A listener of wisdom My detective of crime Understanding of all imperfections   Loving, caring, compassionate
I watched as paul bearers wound you six feet under ground and sprinkled dirt on your pine box? Where are you going, was it by choice or by chance or did time just run out on your life’s clock?
If I could change anything huh? I always think to myself money.  Money money money.  We as people run off of money.  It's practically our caffeine.  I sit here now, writing about money because I need money. 
From a distance much to great, He silently seals his fate. With a rush of the tide, He loses the feelings he tried to hide.   His head spins,
Lack of confidence  I will be my own defeat  Internal battle
Bigot Closed Minded Delusional Judgemental Hatred I have been told that this would happen, but why? Other people before us has
Mountains of steelA society forgetting to feelForests of distractions for mankind
There is nothing left of me Disappeared into the sea I understand this is the end Even without a single friend And so I realize I simply idealize So I fight for another breath
Black and Blue Do you ever get a clue? Black and red do you know how much i bled? black and green You were always too keen Black and yellow  Afterwords, you were always so mellow.
I, an average college student, would change:
Day to day we’re always told that we need to be the utmost best we can be; to shine brighter than the last and burn with more intensity. Flames blazing and creeping up the walls. Any higher
Words are unspoken, Things are not said, But everything she feels is stuck in her head. The sighs of a hurting, broken heart Her feelings inside tear her apart. Words that whisper, 
It's extremely loud in here, Though you do not hear it from there. You may not be able to tell, There are a lot of arguments  And the music is always up too loud.   Though the words spoken, shake,
I Fight, I Fight For The Light. I Fight For Those Sitting Their Room, Crying At Night, Holding That Knife, And Wishing They Died.   I Fight For The Ones Who Lost Hope,
Broken bottles   lining the window seels where pictures should be where crosses should be liquor soaking in the walls yet not absorbing the blows   virbration from the seel decore
The sky a misty and gray. The window sill my head does lay, Contemplating the days before, when the sun's dry heat singed my to the core, When I'd run quickly off the sand that was hot and dry,
Overwhelming sense of dread,
In equal amounts each year It is this we must fear-  For a day cannot expire without it; 
Dear Santa,
I smell the savory cardboard box From across the room..
Little baby boy crawled and crawled about
Pain I feel it taking over me inside The cries, the struggles The pain that needs to be set free Why did you hurt me? Why must I feel the way I do because of you So many questions gone unanswered
Loving caresses Following me endlessly  Appreciation
Thoughts flow
the ladies of the foam prepare for the dance their legs kicking higher as they stretch to the sky the ladies of the foam start the opening number slowly
A hot boiling pot of water
Hidden Lies The present is cheap, The future looks bleak. An image of solace, Is all the eyes meet. In reality, it is a downfall. The world can be simply defined
Floating through an abyss of tears and fears. Do they notice me? Can they help wipe the errors? Dancing, twirling; I scream to be free. One day they will see, it was me they always needed.
how much more grateful can i be for all the things you’ve done for me? the times that seemed like i drove you crazy with all of my problems, but i was too lazy to try to solve them on my own two feet 
sit up, good posture, keep the focus, we’ve done this quite a thousand times. not to complain, we love the routine: sweetest melodies, notes that chime. take a deep breath, poise and position, 
with such a good memory, i can’t remember momentarily, that is, your beautiful eye color. it happened so suddenly, that’s what everyone says. especially me, heartbroken and searching, i guess. 
i may never know your trend of thought, i may never know why it was you i sought, forget the buzzing bee inside my head, what i ought. why do things so bad feel so good? i guess i’d better handle what i should; 
11/26/08 this new environment could use improvement. two-faced like the villain, who am i kiddin’? i got my clique, my homeboys and friends. family is backbone no matter how i pretend. 
the radiant and heartwarmingpalette of the sun’s colorsas i’ve seen all the passing secondsof night turn to light. so is it rightthat i witness the darkness?dawn manifests in many ways,
consider the sponge: soaking it all up, but only partly whole- blown in parts. the art of learning seems expedient, yet draining. gaining general, but filtering 
if you’re gonna be a tool,then you’d ought to be useful.don’t screw me in anoverwhelming mannerwhile undermining the gemsstemming deep in the ground
shades for the bright future… black attireto absorb the forecasted radiancewith just a little whiteto reflect the dissonance,(blinding) overcast that doesn’t last.
i’m guessing coming out for carpentry lessonswould work if you saw results.the shavings as proof which you’re cravingare all between the cracks of your framework,just check your footwear
I see our souls dancing as we entwine, rhythm, steps, keeping time. Beautiful whisps of silver cord,  dancing upward, heaven-toward.  Our love keeps us bound,
T'Was the Christmas season, Where a little boy glees with reason. He's filled with joy, As he waits for hid favorite toy.   The little boy couldn't wait, but it was just too late.
Allow me to clear my throat first Ahem, Fuck you, English Teacher, with the same capital F You gave me on that paper you refused to accept I know my ABCs and my punctuation
Words of honey can lead to arrogance, And words of vinegar often sting.   It is your job to educate and enrich,
Judge and be judge. Welcome to high school, where this rule won’t budge. We all try to be that one-in-a-million; Well good luck, in this world of four fucking BILLION.
My soul succumbs
How are you? God, what a dense question.
You’re feeling insecure Don’t know what for You have everything That others dream for You are beautiful, strong, and pure
Are you frightened by the storm? Come with me where you’ll be warm, The moon tried to reach the earth, Casting midnight’s afterbirth. Lightning scars the blackened skies, Come with me, we’ll run and hide,
Fond memories, led astray No glimpse of hope, such disarray Scornful judgment brings out a beast, so tame Blinded by its fear, naught bravery remain Tearing at the wounds that reject
In the valley of the Shadow of Death, There’s no place to hide, no place to rest. The demons there, haunting your every step. Choking you ‘till you have no breath.   The light at the end of the tunnel
When your pain is tangible You can reach out and touch it. It’s everywhere, consuming you. You don’t even realize how lon_____g it’s been eating away at your insides, until they finally cave in and c
Morning sounded prettier to a young girl than the afternoon. Piegon toed and bugged eyed walking to the bustop at an early time she did not know existed Saw the most human beings she'd ever seen in her life: 20.
Nights of terror seem to pass And days of sorrow fade. In every moment that I laugh I slowly crawl out of the shade. Bits and pieces start to form But some parts are still gone.
Being an aspie can be a source of misery or a source of pride, it’s all in the bearer’s perception. “What’s an aspie?” you might ask. It’s a term for someone who bears the rigorous condition of aspergers.
Hey you… Yeah, you. The girl with all the scars and stories to tell. The boy who sits alone in the corner, The child with a black eye from “falling down the stairs”, I’m here for you, Now and forever.
I am in love with your nature. I am in love with your words,How, like dew, they riddleThe meadows of my mind,How, like rain, they tickleThe branches of my lungs.
What a landmark;Your curly lockedWhite willow head,Your rhododendronLashes, a canopyOver poolsThat frozeOn my lined face.Your oak branchesThat brushedMy lined shoulders,
Don't leave. Just don't. Stay close to me. Be patient and gentle, then you'll see. Get to know me. I have layers upon layers of thought spent on who I am. There's contradictions.
  Your eyes are not like oceansNor is your laugh like the tinkling of bells You are made of flesh and bloodNot some backwards metaphor
Love is like a wild stormWith a shower of broken hearted rainIt will swing you like a tornadoFlood your heart like a hurricaneIts hard to love someoneThat doesn’t love you
Time ticks slowly, almost like my heart with out you Just like the Moon, has to be away from the Sun, I have to be away from you.   Every once in awhile you visit me in my dreams
I wish I had the metaphors tolend description to the love of God.“A father throws his own son in front of a train…”What an inadequate thought. You threwhim from heaven to earth – no.More, he jumped.
From the depths of dark nothingness came a person: the Writer- walking.   She carried a light a pointed, glinting weapon sharply yellow- illuminating.  
     At the age of 7, I found a passion for literature that I had been raised to value. My mother new the benefits of opening the door to a positive outlet for a young woman that was destined to go through Hell and high water.
I’m only a little bird Trapped in a Cage Barred down by the rest of Society   They strap me in chains  Forbid me to fly away There's nothing left for this little bird 
The cardinal is red                                                                                    Happy as can be With its wings spread                                                                          
another wave of nostalgia that i’m drowning under, which makes me wonder if i ever grew up outside of height, because i might be stuck in the same situation; jammed seatbelt.
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
buried in metaphors, the allegory of a door representing the figurative pathway to the highways and byways of my brain- the complexity. as it rains, i'm brainstorming some more
My mind is a sprouting seed; Knowledge a necessity, Growth a challenge.   Too much impatience causes me to wilt;
                                                             I know why the caged bird sings To be let free to flap her wings But she knows one day this will be
  Sister is a willow. Bending, bowing to the thoughts and refuge of the forest. An original? May-be. But the sapling is still meek, and is swallowed by the foliage,
  The platforms are my heels, votes garnered with the slick smile on my face. Pristine pearls and playful pins make my ballots better.
dreams;   elusive and free   draw upon the cracks      of carefully placed glass cool to love’s delicate touch,  warmth escapes into the junglehow can this be?    utters the quiet voice of curiosity 
Standing on the edge Looking down into the swirling abyss below That could be my watery grave Just a quick step forward And it would all be over Leaning forward Thoughts flooding in
Personify me.  The way you see me, and the way I see myself will forever reign  different.  Take control of the ink, push limbs to trees and write out a new beginning,  ending, way to live, 
What Lies Ahead   I haven’t written a poem in awhile It’s as if my thoughts were put in a file. A tale is given to show,
  Sometimes i Press an ear to the ceiling and listen for a voice; the voice. No one speaks. Nothing changes. I remain un-phased. solitary in a room of one's own,
There is this Darkness that loves to entrap me every single night... No sleep. I feel nocturnal. It always starts off when i lay down in my bed.
  You sicken me that time in my past, when you played with me like I was a puppet a show for all of hell
A jumble of confusion, dreams, and people. Thrown into my world as I repeatingly starve for words.   I toss these words bleached with emotion into heavy waters.  
As this sea tosses restless, the same does my soul.Where is my Salvation? What can make me whole?These questions left unanswered as the water engulfs all.And while I beg for mercy, what will stop my fall?
We walked hand-in-hand Through the woods With the sun at our backs The air tasting like salt And the sound of water hitting rocks, We approached the lake. It's funny, I'm the size of an
the sweet little nothings you once whispered are now imprinted in my brain. they are cave paintings on a wall written in forever ink.
Love Is the moment When I hear a plane overhead And think of you Love Is the days I'm out with my family And smile at motorcycles
I stand upon the endless shore, Gazing at the great beyond, Soaking every open dream it holds, Hearing its endless song.
Bullies Drive people away. Give them a ride home And drop them off at a dead End. Disregard stop signs. Pass on a double-yellow And don't stop when they say "When."
The ball has been in your court And I’ve been patiently waiting for you to serve it back But I’m tired Of the water breaks Of the time outs Of the sub-ins I just wanted one game
Respect the beauty of what God has to offer Go gently, seeking all beauty and bounty Tread lightly, in the blue abyss, never ending All encompassing, what the sea can bless us with A day of surf, I leave it all behind
A being but not of flesh He is existence He is truth He is all The melody he sings Graces the ears Like honey the tongue A fresh current sprung Spreading, reaching, growing, flowing—unheard
I saw upon a dying street Beneath the trees' barren Humiliation, A young man (who reminds me of my grandfather) Raking all the leaves Into a sad pile And laughing, He sets it on fire
My Compass rose, in sync with yours You are the two heads, to my oars, I thank the wind, the land, the sea, That God has washed you to my shores
What is a body but from dust is flesh? 'Tis purposeful to carry every soul, O'er life we sail, traverse with burdens set, [This skeleton!] This ship! The cracks are felt from deck to hull.
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