Learn more about other poetry terms
I Trimester (1, 2, 3) Beneath my eyelids I'm lividToo weak to impress I'm compressingPink - the sun beyond this layer of skinI'd consider it pink if I knew any other color
I am a dancer. Arabesque to piano concertos and painted faces before a performance. I am bruised legs and sit ups and missing papers, because I swear I did it it's just not with me.
Little me, how could you not see?Perfection is a misperception.You devoid yourself of emotion,Strive for a life without devotionTo another human being, another person.Your GPA climbs higher
Tea on a Sunday evening Two young girls hide behind their words their illustrations small talk eludes dark realities too afraid to address the monster in the closet
It’s like a cave: large and unknown, with the potential to hold a world of my own creation; and yet it remains empty,
Advice given me when I am in trial Whether through example Or egregious error Or candid words You are the explanation for my ability to reach for success.
Ten years on this side Two kids and a long-term partner. He speaks the language and follows the laws, But he is second class Because he lacks legal status.
Flew the nest? Nah, I was nudged out by a rough wing Lucky the air currents caught me But where they took me Is not where I want to be $7.25 an hour
I have been a block of clay all my life, Reshaped into whatever anybody wanted. I have been modeled into every shape and form In order to fit certain molds. Mom and Dad shaped me
I used to steal everything All my jewelry and perfume But you can’t steal from a coffee shop So that’s where all my money went I knew a girl who took fire to her arms