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If she were a pot she’d be boiling to the rim.If her hair was her ego she could use a little trim.She should watch her words and make sure she doesn’t blurt,or else she knowsshe’s in for a world of hurt. If she were a balloon, she’d be overinflate
When I was young I loved playing and especially hid-and-seek I would hide in the closet (she didn't know, but she was in more ways than one)
It's my friends It’s when they no longer wait for me It’s being moved to a different group It’s third wheeling in a relationship they don’t recognize
i was 8 maybe 9 he was my best friend youve herad it before the child trusts the boy the boy starts out good he cared i like that the called me cute i bushed he groped me
Oh how the pain It’s sad and hard to be a young trans boy No one thinks I’m a real man Everyone wishes I would die already Everyone calls me a girl I’m sick
Take me back                            please.   All this wisdom has made me weary.   Like a sickness,        it's etched into my lungs.    And like rust,         it blooms between my joints.
     When you leave me, I feel my throat close my air leaves my lungs and they colaps I feel suffocation creeping in it hurts, it hurts how could you make me feel this way?      When I lose, I can't breathe
Whoopee, new material!! (New poem, but old frustration... to anybody who can suggest
NOTE: It's a vent poem, please be respectful Hey. Everyone makes mistakes. But it's too much. Everyone can make mistakes all the time, all the world But that's too much. ...
I stay up at night why am I always in fright I try my best to succed. but it never goes right. I lost someone dearest I never stay fearless I live in a game, taking the blame
Blossoming remorseSage scented liesBlank minds begging to be divorced from themselvesDiscouraged by the aroma of the room.
I have never doubted the ability of a womans rage, and the floppy arc of a chosen mans black leather belt marring my skin with the days when I was ​bad, but you were good 
I gave myself lines Because I didn't know I gave myself lines Because I needed pain Something other than the Pain in my head In my heart   I gave myself lines
SometimesI am a lost causeSomeone who is Too depressingToo anxiousToo broken Too far gone In the silence that isMy own frayed mindAnd you don't wantThat mind receiving 
To vent is to relieve yourself To benefit one’s personal health To hold things in you are at risk So let it out   Do not resist   Cry, whisper, shout, speak Don’t hang on 
I can't. I can't. I can't. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Strangling me. Suffocating me. Clawing at my heart. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Why can't you just see it? You're insignificant. Useless. Unwanted. Just a speck of dust that's a stupid little nuisance to everyone.
I knock. No-one answers. I peep through the window, no-one is there. Silence. I try the handle. Locked. Nothing inside. Nothing at all.
Here I sit. I want to move, yet I'm completely powerless. Imprisoned by myself, I'm yours to shape, sculpt, cut and destroy.
A Letter to My Mom: Mom, did you know? Did you know it was your time? You couldn't let me know I wouldn't see you when the sun shines? You couldn't call me to your room and ask me why dishes were in the sink?
The first time I ever cried tears of stress in front of my dad went the way I expected.
  Scarlet romantic aura permeates the essence of my being, a feeling half incomprehensible to my own psyche. Waiting beneath the soft, silky embrace of candlelight,
To you, I gave the world, Yet to I, you saw no such need. Under the worst of circumstances, we met, I, being a mess bent on self-destruction, and you, a loner. To you, I gave you my world,
To you, I gave the world, Yet to I, you saw no such need. Under the worst of circumstances, we met, I, being a mess bent on self-destruction, and you, a loner. To you, I gave you my world,
White noise, black noise roaring, shuddering, nonsensical silence.   It's loud, isn't it? There's always something to listen to.   So why hasn't anyone
My headphones are already loud But I turn up the noise in an effort to ignore the turmoil downstairs   I don't mean to listen I don't want to listen I'd rather not but  
She is happy, she is sad. She is excited, she is afraid. She is confident, she is scared. She is loved, she is alone.  
My eyes are hungry  Desire is just one thing Ona list that is endless A misfit maybe that's it A virus taunting me to slit My own throat in order to quit  Quitter hoping for admiration 
1000 memories and they’re all colored blue and the darkest shade appeared the day I met you I never thought much of it, never bothered me nun Shake and bake you toke and bake We talk until we see the rising sun
It must feel great that your life has a soundtrack Forget responsibilities, you'd rather sit back Relax, just be a character not claiming any agency How are you your own side role? Wake up, you ain't no baby
You know stress? Worry? That panic that grips your chest and rips you apart in the middle of the night? Because thinking about the future incites this feeling of needing to explode because you're not ready.
     The memories burn bright, illuminating my soul and keeping me up in the night. Your boisterous yet inspiriting voice dances around in my mind by choice.
I don't think I love you. I don't think I can. My broken takes up too much space, To make room for a man.
Thanks for showing me that I don't fucking need you, That I should not have been so naive  I should of known you can change your mind whenever you wanted That the sweet words you said were just to get you by
The girl screams wolf, And we all arrive, To find no dog but her reprise. She lazily asks for a cup of tea, Ungrateful in our company. So we turn away to our own lives, Warning her not to spout lies.
Listen you say to get an A and do your work to succeed you say to ask questions about things i don't understand because there are no stupid questions   but here I am infront of you
I hope to dream a perfect dream, A dream where my sleep is not disturbed.   I hope to live a successful life, A life where I can live happily.   I want to give my children things,
it’s hard to love when you don’t even love yourself you have some problems but too afraid to ask for help you don’t want this to be the reason why you take your last breath
Maybe there are icicles on your tongue maybe your tonsils are the poles maybe you can't help the bitter frostbitten breath you bark at me.
Bottled up with emotion sadness running deeper than the ocean hatred and love such a thin line between both sometimes it is the cause of maturities lack of growth i love you I do but these situations life throws makes it seem like I hate you feeli
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