Posts
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Internal Bleeding
I find it interesting that internal bleeding can be so deadly
Because you don’t even know
Until it’s often too late
No one pays attention to your symptoms
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To love or not to love
To never love is to never lose
But to love is to gain the most
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The gift of life
From the moment we are born
We are given a gift
And at first we don't realize it
As children we think less about the why and the how
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I love you like the sun loves the moon
I love you like the sun loves the moon
The kind of love that only exists in the in-betweens
Between day and night
Because love is a spectrum
And I don't love you at the end of it
I love you in that sweet spot
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When the bluebirds sing
When the bluebirds sing
The grass is finally green
When the bluebirds sing
The children run and scream
When the bluebirds sing
The bears no longer hibernate
When the bluebirds sing
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Traffic Lights
Green
Yellow
Red
Simple
Rules
Yes or no or take it slow
Humans
Nothing like traffic lights
Never what they seem
Or say
Or do
Too complicated
Loves
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It's enough to make a girl cry
I need to write so badly because all this anger and fear are sticking to my skin like an anxiety sweat
and yet I can't seem to make any phrases and stanzas that are understandable outside of my head
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four years
i sit and stare out the window
stare out the window at the brown dead grass
the dirty snow melting into muddy slush
the mud that is criss-crossed and destroyed with ruts and tire tracks
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Poems from Third Grade
Usually my poetry
sucks
and it will often be horrible
but that may just be my poems from
3rd grade
where we were learning online
and no one had any secrets in their family.
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Sponsors
Congratulations.
The future is here
The world is at your fingertips.
Literally.
Swipe left for love.
Swipe right for loneliness disguised as company.
Scroll down for breaking news. -
being a teenager is like living in hell
Can you remember
Who you were
Before the world told you
Who you should be?
__________________________
i was too much
for you
someday
I’ll be enough
For someone
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New American Elegy
Long live the dead we prop ourselves up on,
The cane we pass off as our leg.
Long live the gods that money trickles down from,