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Poems Speak My ThoughtsI've been called pretty,
but they haven't been for me.
I've been called beautiful,
but sadly it wasn't by you.
Some days I feel,
you are the only one that cares.
Other times I'm a mess,
cause I think you could worry less.
Sometimes I wait to text you,
just to see if you miss talking.
Yet I can't wait that long.
I really like you,
and always have.
Yet when I had a chance,
I ran off with someone that treated me bad.
Probably after you read this,
you'll probably think I'm a crazy fool.
Then I may just have to get over you,
even if it's something I don't want to do.
I just don't want to lose a friend in the end.
Apple TreeThere on top of the hill,
sits a little apple tree.
With the best one you will ever see,
but on the inside is sour.
Then there is little neglected ugly me,
who has a taste as sweet as can be.
Everyone wants to pick the other,
while no one looks at me.
They go to her every day,
I just sit and rot away.
One time someone saw me,
but just threw a rock my way.
Just some days,
I wish I was the other apple.
Then finally one day,
someone stops and looks at me.
Really looks and doesn't cause pain.
My only question is,
will I finally be picked over the other?
That Was UsI lay awake in bed,
staring up at the ceiling.
Not knowing what to do,
because I only want to be with you.
Then I start to laugh,
because the memories start coming back.
How we would joke around and say,
that was the worst way to spend a day.
How you would say,
that you won our "fights".
How I would say,
you just had some luck.
How you thought I was crazy,
for how many movies I haven't seen.
How I thought you were crazy,
for watching that many.
Then the sadness comes back.
Since I just had to fall for you,
right before you had to go.
The one in my lifeYou are my inspiration.
The one that I think of,
just to become happy again.
I think of that smile,
that makes my heart go 100 miles.
I think of that laugh,
that makes me forget my past.
When you looked up at me,
it made me wonder,
what you could be thinking.
When we met eyes,
I swear I could fly.
That moment you gave me a hug,
I knew that you really do care.
You come around only to see me.
I'm just that lucky to have you in my life,
and to remember that special night.
Grow Up KidI feel alone lately,
lost and hurt.
I try to tell my friends,
but they turn it into a contest.
Who's life is worse?
I get it
there are other people out there
who have it worse then me.
Yet venting isn't self centered.
Or I don't think it is.
I want to go back,
to when I was 5.
When I didn't know,
what this kind of hurt is.
When I didn't lay awake in bed,
lost and confused.
But you gotta grow up kid,
two more years,
then you're on your own.
Grow up kid,
because everyone is blaming this on hormones.
QuestionsFor some reason I've been thinking,
Who would I be
If no one ever influenced me?
Would I still like the music
that i apparently love
if none of my friends told me they like it?
Would I dress the way I do
if I went in an empty store alone?
Not knowing what was "in" and "out"
Would I have picked up writing,
if we weren't told to in class?
Instead would I go and dance?
Would I still love my favorite movie,
if my best friends didn't say it was theirs?
Would I love something totally different?
What would I be like,
if I didn't have people telling me
what they love and hate?
Do I just agree to fit in?
The sunlight of musicMusic is sunlight to any bad day
Speaking out to you like it knows what's wrong
It will cheer up people in every way
They can find happiness in every song
Picking you up from that difficult fall
Shows that you can get up and brush it off
That you can be on top and rule them all
If you don't want to hear it loudly cough
But they can be sad and depressing too
Like the ones that go on about their hearts
How they are broken and need to be new
Like they have been through a field of darts
Within them we can find some happiness
Hiding in all the sorrow and darkness
Some DayI say I'm smiling,
yet I'm crying.
I show love,
yet i feel hate.
I say I don't care,
when I want him here.
I say she is amazing,
when I feel like it should be me.
Yet at the end of the day,
I still have hope.
When he is here
smf I can sleep worry free.
That is just what he does.
WordsWords float on a thin line
Some scurry through
My cloudy mind
Never to be caught only
Leaving their essence behind
Give me writings to where
People can sometimes find
What I mean
No matter what I do
I can never seem to convey
The emotion of my poem to
A person despite who they are
I even doubt you
Will get just what I mean
When I finish a poem I rue
Make the stupid poem
My own words
Are twisting and forming
Into a poem I didn't make
Sometimes I feel like crying
The frustration is so great
I keep writing
Otherwise I'll always
Be just scribbling
Why?We all know the definition:
the intentional taking of one's own life.
But do we know why? Can anyone truly say why people commit this terrible act?
Maybe it's because of
the need to find a reason to keep going,
but the inability to do so
It's like one final cry for help, a faint glimmer of hope that it will be heard, but if it isn't, then, they die. They pass out of existence, their bodies, and the marks they left on the hearts of others, the only evidence they ever existed at all.
Even if they are saved, if their call is heard. It may not be enough. Being suicidal is like having the chicken pox, even after the exterior signs are gone, the virus stays, lies dormant in your body for the rest of your life. If you're exposed to it again, or your immune system is under stress, you get what's called shingles. If you're suicidal once, you can't ever get rid of it fully. You might be able to beat it back for awhile, but it will always come back,
HurtIt hurts so much I cannot speak,
I think my feelings are at its peak.
I cannot feel anything right now,
I don't know why or how.
All I know is that I'm hurting,
all I know is that I feel like crying.
Everything is wrong,
why can't everyone just get along?
Now I don't know what I'm feeling,
I think a part of me is dying.
Emo? I think notSo, because I have cuts on my wrists, arms, legs, hips and stomach, I am Emo.
Emo is for losers with nothing better to do
Emo is a fad that people follow because it's "cool" to cut yourself.
Emo is a label applied to everyone who self harms, whether they are or not
Emo is a derogatory term used by teenagers to make fun of cutters
Emo is a word belonging only to those who have no REAL reason to be sad.
I, my friend, am a cutter...
Being a cutter is feeling completely worthless.
Being a cutter is feeling like your heart has been ripped to bloody shreds, without it's constant beat ever ceasing.
Being a cutter is not wanting to get up in the morning because you feel like no one would give a fuck if you weren't there.
Being a cutter is not knowing where you get the strength to continue living.
Being a cutter is considering suicide as the only way things will ever get any better.
Being a cutter is wishing for a serious accident to land them in the hospital to see if anyone cares
TrappedHere I am. Why don't you see me? The real me. Do I have to scream for you to hear that I'm dying inside? I'm trapped here, inside my own head. You see my mask. The one I don't even realize I put up. You never ask me what's wrong. You never ask me about the cutting. It makes me feel like you don't see me. I know you love me. You guys are my best friends. Don't get me wrong, I don't want you guys on top of me all the time, asking if I'm okay. But it would be nice if, just once, when I lie and say I'm great, if you would look me in the eye and say "No your not, tell me the truth"
I am an eccedentesiast, just a big word meaning I fake a smile. I'm one of those few people who, when faking a smile, can make it look real. Too real. If you watch, to see how long it takes for that smile to fade, it was barely even there.
I Hope the Joke Was Worth ItI hope the joke was worth all the trouble it caused. The girl you make fun of for being fat, she has an eating disorder now, she's wasting away before everyone else's eyes, and there's nothing anyone can say to help her. The loner you make fun of, the one who separates herself from everyone else. It's not a superiority complex, she was raped. She hates being around others for fear of being touched. That's why her wrists are covered in scars. The boy you pick on constantly for being gay? He's about one rude comment away from ending his life. The really smart girl, the one who you pick on of reading too much, she reads to escape. She knows that, in a book, she can escape the hell of her life, where her father abuses her, for a little while she lives the life of someone else. If you get to know a person instead of making snap judgments about them, the world of public school, and the internet, will both be better off.
Not a ChoiceWas it a choice?
My family hates me now.
Why would I choose that?
Was it a choice?
People say it's evil.
I have morals too.
Was it a choice?
I hated lying to him
With my halfhearted kisses.
Was it a choice?
I wouldn't choose it.
But I still am.
What did I do?Honestly I don't know what to think anymore,
what parts of what I believe is really true.
Everyone is walking out the door,
I don't have a clue.
It makes me wonder,
about all the bad talk that could be going on.
If they bad talk the so called better people,
it makes me wonder all the bad they say about me.
What do they call me?
A bad friend? When I'm always there.
Desperate? When I only like one guy.
A downer? When I hide sadness around everyone.
A big mouth? When I listen to problems and not talk about mine.
These people are what I call "friends",
say they are there when they are not.
Luckily I still have a few friends,
that will help me to the end.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More