Posts
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The Sunset
This is the first poem in my poetry anthology, The Sun Will Rise Again.
I was eight when it began.
I was left clinging to sunshine
As the sun descended below the horizon.
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An excerpt from 'Savior's Regime' - Day 201
Day 201: July 10th, 2119
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This is not America. This is hell.
The school board tells us lies
Promising that they understand
Yet they don’t know
What it’s like
To live in a world
Where you are seen yet never understood
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I write for the broken
I would never admit it, but
I’m broken. I have lived through a hell you only see in your nightmares. I was born into a world of agony and have stayed silent on the darkest of nights.
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Reminders
There are many moments
Where I don’t feel
Deserving
Of the attention
Today I’m reminding myself
Of how far I’ve come,
All the years I’ve spent
Living in pain
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Clinging To Sunshine
I’ve kept every card I’ve ever received
For as long as I can remember
People fade in and out of your life
Eventually lost in the past, forgotten
I read their letters after sunset
Loves
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one million things to do instead of studying
Instead of studying for the test
that I completely forgot about,
that is first period tomorrow morning,
I'm going to write a poem.
Because what else would I do? Study?
Hell no.
Let's be serious here.
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all the little things
I saw a post on Pinterest today about how they want people to love the mundane things about them, and I crave that from deep in some cavernous region in my heart.
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alive
The stars are reflected in the glimmer of the headlamp's light on the snow
And the air is frozen-- it feels like the sensation of holding your hand under water so burning hot that
it begins to feel cold
somehow.
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ode for the girls in seventh grade
you’re perfect.
all of you.
and i don’t need to say more
but i will
because i want to write about every one of you
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Island
I would feel -
relaxed if I were
on an island by myself.
I could forget about
my life
forget about overdue math
and whether I'm behind or not
doing the right thing is always wrong
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"perfect."
I pick at my face
on a daily basis.
Rub my fingers over
my acne scars and oily skin,
every unwanted mark
that supposedly makes
me beautiful.
I try to convince myself