Feb 14


You use words to freely
Anxiety? So do I. And everyone else.
Look around.
No you're not.
Depression is a mental illness.
A feeling you've never felt
You're happy. Embrace it!
It doesn't mean sad, stressed, or angry.
And honestly?
You should be more greatful.
Real friends?
We are real.
Enjoy it!
You can't be happy if you're so paranoid all the time
You're family isn't the only one there for you
We are
Please reconize that.
The world doesn't have it out for you
You are lucky
Saying these word about yourself
Isn't just hurting you
It's hurting us
We are giving you the best life we can
Please don't throw that away
Please don't throw everything we have done for you away
Life is not a game of chess
You are not the king
We are not pawns in your game
But if we get knocked out
It hurts us more than you

Feb 14


why do we romanticize dependency,
obsession, feeling incomplete?
why not celebrate
strength, independence,
being there for yourself?

is it because
our idea of the perfect romance
relies on insecurity?

if everyone believed
that they're enough,
that they don't need
someone else to complete them,
how many multi-million dollar
industries would collapse?

why does our world
revolve around insecurity?

will we ever be
satisfied with ourselves?

will we ever be enough? 
Feb 14
mangarp's picture

Forever Young

Our hair’s white with grey stripes, but we are still young.

All of our 32nd teeth are gone, but we are still young.

Our grandchildren call us “Grandpa and Grandma”, but we are still young.

Our veins sticks out when someone greets us, but we are still young.

No one can take away our youth from us.

There’s still some time left before the memories we made together slowly fade away.

The family we’ve created together.

Together we build a never-ending-ladder to reach the bright stars.

We are forever young.
Feb 14

From me to you

Am I not beautiful enough for you?
When you look at me
Do you read me?
Analyze my structure,
Sift through my curves,
Until you know all of my secrets.
Tear me apart until you crack my very essence
And it spills out,
Spills out all for you, my darling.
Love me, please.
Break me, if you must.
Hate me, if I earn it.
But God, almighty God, know that I just wanted Love.
You asked of me a favor,
So I conceived
And I bore this monster you swore to love
I laid on my back and shrieked in agony
My tongue twisted, my throat ruptured,
And I heaved and pushed with my heart in splinters,
My womanhood bleeding
And I gave you a part of me.
You looked
With your eyes closed, my darling.
Why were they closed?
Hardly bothering to turn, you let it fall from your limp
and pulseless fingers,
And left me in a pool of my blood and my tears
Cradling your hate to my breasts
Feb 14

Bloody call

I call you,
My brothers,
To die.

I call you to spill your blood
Across the thirsty ground
So we may grow freedom
From the seeds you planted.

I call you to march ahead
And face your deaths
With heads held high and
Eyes of steel.

I call you to be pasted across
The posters,
Decorating mourning cities
Years after your deaths.

I call you to watch your friends
Be blasted apart,
See the last light leave them
In their final breaths.

I call you to be mourned
By those who live,
Missing limbs,
Missing friends,
Missing love,
Missing joy,
Wanting death with hungry eyes.

I call you, my sisters,
To feel the rage
Burning up inside you as
You take up arms,
Sometimes open,
Sometimes in disguise,
To defend what you feel is right.

I call you, my sisters,
To mourn those who left
Feb 14


A blank world
Scrawled onto thousands of sheets of creamy white paper
Ink rubbed off and flowing through the veins of a billion blank humans.
Blank eyes glued to the bright abyss of people out there
False smiles typed rapidly onto a growing list on nothing
Burning into ashes of words that are forgotten 
And waves a thing of the past.
Feb 14
Alaina.J_27's picture

I Thought I Knew

I thought I knew who I was.
I thought I knew where I stood.
I thought I knew who my true friends were.
I thought I knew right from wrong.
I thought I knew who the liars were.

I thought I knew.
But I know nothing at all.

I thought I knew who I was.
I don’t who I am now.
I thought I knew where I stood.
I don’t know where I am anymore.
I thought I knew who my true friends were.
I’m not sure who they are, where they are.

I thought I knew right from wrong.
I thought I knew black from white but the line’s all blurred.
I thought I knew who the liars were- the fakes.
I don’t know if lies are all they speak, the ones closest to me.

I thought I knew.
But I know nothing at all.

I’ve lost a part of myself.
I’ve lost a part of my identity.
The ground where I stood,
the mountains that I’d climbed,
shook and crumbled under my feet.
Feb 14
Amazingnutmeg12's picture

i dont know

i don't know
if i can forgive you.
it felt like a trap.
i was broken
i was the one trying to save the friendship 
when it wasn't me who had to apologize.
how were you scared?
i felt my entire life slipping away and 
it all felt like a lie.
i don't know if i can forgive you now. 
it made me think twice about an entire year of my life.
i didnt understand and
i blamed myself.
but i found people who respect me now.
who don't gaslight the crap out of me.
now the ball is in your court and
i want to know if you'lll be brave.
because now that so many memories
and jokes
and moments
feel fake,
i dont know.

Feb 14


All alone in this empty house
An empty room
Full of empty glasses 
And empty people speaking empty words.

There's a rainbow outside 
But the empty eyes never find it.
Feb 13

Happy Valentine's Day

It was a cloudy, melty Valentine's Day.
The snow was slipping off the sidewalks and cars
like drippy vanilla ice cream,
making a mess of everyone's shoes. 

Well, you and I
we were pretty in love.
I'm surprised I can recall the weather now,
since I didn't seem to be paying attention to anything other than you,
back then. 

You gave me handmade chocolate truffles,
heart-shaped and thick and dark,
neatly packaged in a clear container. 

A recycled rosé-lemonade glass bottle,
wrapped in crinkly white tissue,
held four beautiful lilies. 
They were a little droopy from the heat of the day,
but I didn't mind. 

Two months later I threw the rosé-lemonade bottle into the recycling,
the sound of the hard glass bouncing off the sides of the large bin. 
It was becoming spring, 
but the air still bit my skin as I reached back into the container,
Feb 13

beneath the surface - part 1

i passed her everyday,
both heading to homeroom.

her head was down,
like always.

her shirt is wrinkled like she's slept in it
for the past week.

her jeans are a size, if not more, too small,
and i've seen them on her almost everyday.

i think she used to wear makeup,
but it always looked rushed.
and this year she just didn't care, it seemed.

her undereyes were always dark
and her dark eyes foggy,
as if she hadn't slept for days
and was miles away.

and then this year
we were all so stunned when it came around:
that girl was caught with drugs in her bag.

she was always invisible,
on the outside.

she was always silent,
and her presence seemed just a whisper in the wind.

some people would talk about her offhand,
as if she wasn't like anyone else.
less of a person.
others just didn't care.
Feb 13
Fiona Ella's picture

ink deity

they tell me to separate the artist
from the art
to better take criticism. 

get distance,
they tell me,
you are not your writing. 

but you don't understand
i tell them as i unzip
my skin,

i am. 

and i let them see
that the only thing flowing in my veins is ink
and garbled music. 

let them see my heart pumping too fast,
spitting words out to my arteries
and fueling the great typewriter of my mind.  

let them see my lungs compressed 
a printing press which has forgotten its job. 

let them see that all i am is words. 

let them look for some kind of a glimmer of a person hiding
underneath the words
let them look behind my eyes
but they find only a cinema where my retinas should be
translating the experiences my body passes through
into grainy oversimple
Feb 13
futurefemalepitcher's picture


Don’t be afraid if your writing isn’t good enough.
It is.
Write like you know that someone is about to publish it.
Write like you know that someone important is about to read it.
Write like you know that someone is about to read the words aloud on national television,
And everyone is calling in to say how amazing it is.
Please keep writing.
I know a lot of people who would love to read your work,
And know that poems and stories are being carried on in this world.
If not for me,
Write for your grandchildren.
Write for your grandmother.
Write for yourself.
Keep writing.
Feb 13

Snow day

Snow days are fun,
When you have something to do.
After all, nobody really wants to sit at home,
But yet every time schoo is cancelled we 
Feb 13


i saw a ghost last night when i was asleep. 

he walked up to me like it was nothing. didn’t talk at first. 

just side by side steps through an old empty school hallway

crooked glasses. hands ink-stained. 

it was so familiar. i was too shocked to speak. he asked what was wrong. 

i laughed. 

i told him. everything’s fine. 
it’s been a while since i’ve meant that. 

we turned a corner 

i opened my eyes. 

it was
just a ghost, that’s all.
Feb 13
besawl's picture


Lurking in the forest deep,                                          

Where no one hears them leap or weep.

There they live and there they stay,

Under the leaves where the shadows sway.

With talents from your wildest dreams,

Graceful as the flowing streams.

On the bank they sing and dance,

But no one thinks to spare a glance.

You’ll find no word in history,

They have always been a mystery.

You may search but you look in vain,

They are not meant to be contained.

Through the trees they will race,

Like a ghost you’ll find no trace.
Feb 13
Krajace's picture


The piano starts to play
my entrance is coming closer and closer,
faces looking up at me bright and expectant. 
My bow is now on the string, I start to play,
hundreds of eyes on me, watching,
fingers flying over the strings,
it starts to get easier, forget everyone watching. 
Focus on doing what you love,
last note, my bow drifts over the string
making it last as long as possible, then I'm done.
Silence, then the applause bursts out of the audience,
I thought about how hard I worked to get here,
it was all worth it, how nervous I was when they called me next,
all of those nights in my room struggling on that one spot I couldn't get right,
now here I am, I played perfectly.
When I walk off the stage it's like a mountain was lifted off my shoulders,
I could breath again,
my family and friends meet me in the hall,
everyone is hugging me,
I'm happier than I ever thought was possible.
Feb 13

I Love Snowboarding

I love flying down the mountain
My board surfing over the snow.
The way my heart goes up when I hit a jump,
The way each turn brings me farther,
I love it all.
I love being with my friends
Laughing with each other as we ride up the lift,
Our boards and skis knocking into each other.
The cold almost too hard to bare,
But we all love it anyways.
I love
Every chance I get to go snowboarding,
To see the world through my orange tinged goggles,
And the white snow coming down in front of the green chair lift.
I love this sport with all my heart,
I am a snowboarder.  

Feb 13

Black and White

Sometimes we are blindsided 
By the black and white
We don’t see the gray
Our unseeing sight 

The white man is the master
The black man is the slave
Why can’t they see the gray?
It’s power that they crave

Instead greed prevails
Benevolence, forgotten
So the black man labors on
Picking bales of cotton

The black man works to give
To the white man who will take
Why can’t they see the gray?
Their hands, for power, they quake 

So greed reigns on
Benevolence, unheard of
Now the only hope
Is that shining star above

The shining star still shines
Yearning for freedom ringing
When all the stars align 
We will hear their voices singing

On the red hills of Georgia
This fierce urgency of now
Finally as promised
The check the Fathers vowed

Feb 13

My skin is the only weapon in their eyes

Is my hair like a pistol

That makes them put beatings in my mental?

Are my eyes like rifles

Does that make other people who refuse to see me spiteful?

Is my nose like a shotgun

That creates stereotypes by the ton?

Are my lips like muskets

That put me in a system with an idea that I must fit?

Are my arms and hands like revolvers

That can make them kill their un-look alike sons and daughters?

Are my legs like RPG’s

That strike fear in people who see me?

My skin is their enemy, just disguised because

My skin is the only weapon in their eyes