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Love and PainThe love of one person,
plus the love of another can be so strong.
That's what I wonder though;
does he really love me?
Does he really care?
I know we are friends,
but does he truly see me there?
The life I live,
is nothing but a lie.
I just look at myself in the mirror...
..and just ask, "Why?"
The hurt on my face..
..the pain in my heart..
It hurts, but I will survive.
All the stars in the sky..
..all the tears burning my eyes..
I can't go on without struggling.
The room's spinning.
My vision's becoming blurred..
DrowningI'm drowning in my own tears.
I try to stay above the waves,
but fail miserably.
This was brought on because of you.
All the yelling,
all the hatred,
all the lies..
..all built up inside of me.
All struggling to get out.
When they finally do,
there's going to be hell to pay.
You are not my role model anymore.
You aren't even a part of my life.
With all of this,
this anger just twisting my heart.
It doesn't make sense..
..all this crap.
I just want to go away.
Go away, and never return.
How's It Going to Be?Battles won;
All the anger & truancies beneath the surface;
they must come out.
When will you tell me how it's going to be?
When you do tell me,
please have the courtesy to say it to my face,
and not over the phone.
I see how easy it is for you to drop me..
..drop me like a lead weight.
It's probably best, though..
..because we'll be on two different continents.
Was I devastated from your call..
..on that stormy summer night?
No; I was more hurt than anything.
It didn't surprise me so much, though.
I knew it was coming, but why now?
I leave for my trip in three weeks for Norway.
StruggleStaring out the window;
trying to find a soul.
Trying to find a happy place,
trying to see myself on the clouds above,
I turn to my mirror and look myself over,
trying to figure out what's missing.
My heart aches.
I try to speak, and yet,
no one hears me.
No one hears my song of sorrow.
Even though my voice,
my cries are unheard..
..I know that I am seen.
Will I be turned away?
..or will I be left standing?
I am alone and broken.
I might not be strong enough to win..
..to win this battle.
ScaredLiving under constant pressure,
never able to be my own person.
Sometimes living under regret.
The threat of constant betrayal always around.
Nothing seems open and free.
Everything is secret and sacred.
I don't want to leave.
I must not leave this place.
I have friends who care about me,
I go to an awesome school,
and people seem to accept me.
Right now though,
All I need is the support of my friends.
I'm so happy to have friends like them.
Sick (A Rant)I'm sick of lies and carelessness, of apologies with no meaning.
I'm sick of writing things for school, about things I don't know about. What does equality mean anymore? What is populism?
What is "the moral equivalent of war," according to philosopher William James? What does it have to do with anything? Yes it's history, and it hurts my brain. What kind of screwball teacher,
with salt-n-pepper hair and beard the likes of Santa, does this to his students? A hair-brained essay 1,000 pages long, due on things we barely know. I'm sick of all of his games. I'm sick of this class, and my teacher. I should've gotten out when I had the chance.
Now I'm drowning in a sea of pointless work. Anyone out there who can help me? ...didn't think so.
Love Is...Love is just this.
When you see me walking down the hall,
You give me a smile.
When we've just walked for a long time,
You pick me up and carry me home . . .
Even if I tell you not to.
I can tell that your feelings towards me,
I know because mine are too.
I gaze into your ice blue eyes
And am instantly lost inside them.
You're the sweetest person I've ever met.
I hope that one day we can be more than . . .
Love is when you care for someone,
And the feeling is mutual with that someone.
Love is love.
That's all it's ever going to be.
Never will it change.
My love for you will never change.
DecideOne fateful day while you were off at bootcamp,
I said goodbye for good.
Our relationship was over, and I thought we both understood.
Now a year or so has passed,
and we still talk sometimes,
but when you talked to me last night,
all the words you said before were lies.
I knew that you were torn, dear brother,
between me and your new love.
Now it's time for you to decide,
to break it off with her or go to me.
I see no point in saying, that you've made a mistake.
This is something you did on your own,
and now how much pain will it make...for her.
Do not apologize to me,
for 'tis not my heart you're breaking.
Look at your new love,
for it is her heart that is aching.
Make a decision, stand firm and true,
for it is the only way I will come back to you.
The Raging WarThere is a battle raging on inside of me.
Shall I go back to the darkness,
where it all began?
Or shall I stay here,
to begin again in the new light?
They all want me in the light...
...my comrades, along with my one love.
Yet something inside of me is nagging,
urging me to go back,
back to the darkness of yesterday.
What do I do?
What real choice do I have?
I'm afraid that if I leave,
I will become one of the ever-forgotten souls.
And if I stay,
I'll never know if the people,
no, the lost souls of my past have changed.
This war will go on forever, I fear...
...but I do not care
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
Welcome, December, and to the freezing temperatures you leave in your wake.
Welcome to Jack Frost, forever nipping at my nose.
Welcome, Old Man Winter, who causes the snow to fall, and winds to whistle about me as it forces the snow to slice into the flesh on my face.
Welcome, early sunsets; the night comes too quickly.
Welcome, harvest moons, and your beautiful gold shimmer.
Welcome, old sweaters, large and comfy.
Welcome to large cups of cocoa, coffee, hot cider, or tea;
Whichever warms your soul from the inside, out.
Welcome to night shirts and pants, and oversized, fluffy comforters.
Welcome to late game nights or movie nights with your loved ones.
Welcome to your favorite fuzzy slippers.
Welcome, December … welcome.
(Though, I wish you'd leave soon…)
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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