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I feel a deep, deep sorrow, As life nears its final page, The hard times that come with age, It’s enough to make a good man rage, But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
23: that’s how many days it took to stop thinking about you every time I woke up. It’s how many times I sat alone with hurt in my eyes this year alone.
To wake from your sleep With groggy, foggy eyes And to know of what you dream 'T is something you keep. To wake from your daze Listening to the voices I notice those faces
You learned that nothing ever stays still, And that life moves just beneath your feet. That falling in love is definitely scary, and that a broken heart doesn't mean defeat.
Sparkling eyes and tender flesh are shielded from the world in a tight hug. A photograph captures my father’s love.
The older you get the more callous you become Yet magic started for me at 23, Balloons and bubbles were a thing at 30 At 60, my heart became wide open ratting me out for every feeling; little tattle tale.
A little version of myself, scrawls words under "Dear future me" on a post it, hides it behind a frame, tries to forget it exists. A bigger version of myself, reads the words on that post it,
At a local grocery store they offer free cookies to kids. The peeling sign plastered on the glass pastry case reads “Hey Kids! Have a FREE cookie!”
The monster. It always came back to me, haunting me. My own mother cruel as she has always been Pushed me closer to the monster.
As Someone Grows Big, You Never See What Changes You Only See Change Yes, You May Get Big, But You Only See Changes Once One Has Done Grown
One is a squirming burrito of tears, laughter and dirty diapers. At least that's how her mom put it. Two is much the same, though more mobil,
When I was little I used to be angry at the world For letting the night sky Grow dark. I was angry at them For taking away the stars
When I got on my knees for church And asked who am I doing this for? When I watched a man die on the street And wondered why anyone need be poor? When I heard students cry out for peers shot dead
Dylan Schmidt For some people 18 is a magic number.
I was no longer a child when I realized my greatest fear was not that of the dark, but of being so vulnerable and helplessly in love that I would not be able to stop my heart from being broken.
ever since you were a young girlyou showed loveample amounts of loveto everyone who stumbled upon your broken path.this world has b
Let me in, Let me in, or I’ll Force my way in, cried the Gentle youth, whose hand quivered Upon the doorknob. That boy can overlook being
Time embraces the world with light, And sets the sun for an inky black night, It can be the stitch for a broken heart, Or a sharp steel blade that cuts life apart.
What can be said of the disintgrating people? The ears, the eyes, the mind goes. Ticking time Slow and slow The legs, the arms, the heart show How age reaps life it once sowed.
Lighting scorches fresh fields of bloomin buds Their innocent pink petals singed by sparks of the electric blaze The Old man sitting on the porch of his past and destined home Watches the pasture he has always watched
To Her Dearest, fondest one to my heart My eyes do beweep themselves on thought of you alone There are not many things I could say to you That have not been said a thousand times before
All the times I shouldn't have said sorry:1 year old: I apologize for being a mistake you made. I must get used to anger that never dissipates.
skin sags with the weight of the years shoulders slump from a life full of fears cigarette burning to calm the brain bandaged face a reminder of pain hair taken by a life of stress
Remember the timeRemember thenThat instance,When, oh when Our youth, when we did what we didDidn’t care, didn’t giveInto the pressures, of parents or peersMan, those timesRemember?
The sun rises slow over floating clouds gray, Golden rays of light flow across the lazy bay, The quiet wind blows beneath the singing jay, and welcomes the beauty of the second day.
Slip, over moss and leaves, Over the land that breathes, I am the Serpent,
i am fourteen years old. i am not who i am by manifestation. i am brewed by those who know me, those who love me, those who knew me. i am not big enough. i am not listened enough.
Tell me what to expect in the many years to come. Tell me what adventures await, what sorrow I may face, what love is yet to come, what heartbreak we await. Tell me in all of your wisdom,
Do my steps weigh down This island, and flood my home In waves of guilt? These frayed gaps tell me so. Prayers force their way out of these pages
The wrinkles in my brain Deepened from encountering challenging worldviews and processing biological texts. The wrinkles around the cusps of my eyes
Years are measured; Not by the days, but by the time that takes up the days. Time is measured; Not by a clock,
I went to a musical, Heathers It was reccomended for sixteen year olds And up, and I'm only thirteen It was my only chance, though, Mum knew that. Heathers has some 'heavy themes' so there were
When I was a young boy, I had a conversation with my mother. I asked her why she gave me the nickname "Chipmunk," And she said it was because I had the eyes of a chipmunk, Bright and curious and full of life,
I am blank. So vast is my time here that I feel it awash in white like all of the colors woven together to create the whitest blue. And I feel you, attacthed by the same
I always thought that when I grew up I would be free No cares in the world with a little responsibility. No one ever told me about loans, mortgages & debt,
Age 5, his innocence defies life. Age 8, he's smarter now, I wonder what'll he be. A fireman? Oh, we'll see.Age 12, alive and well.
When I was 7 years old My mind was consumed With visions of angels The soft glow of the sun The splashing of water
Everyone wants to be beautiful. Nobody recognizes true beauty until it's gone. It's just like the old saying, "you don't realize what you've got until it's gone". It's the same for beauty.
I had lead such a privileged life. I danced toe to toe with rich men everyday. They brought me expensive clothes that they thought would warm my soul. Their eyes tied in knots at the sight of me.
I once stood for choices that colored me rad But I learned the hard way an adrenaline high is only a fad When you can live your life with millions of choices: a la carte
When you get your first dollar,don't spend it on the ice-cream man.When you get to first grade,read and do what you're told to do.You won't flunk.
If you let me, I'd like to clutch your forty-five pearlsA flawed, blinding foreignnessAnd if it's possible---the descendant of Emily DickinsonBut have you really locked yourself away?
Same page different books.. From the dusty stones… Hidden hopes in your blank looks. In the library of our mind
Lines in a face, creases in a smile Imprints and marks that have been there awhile Wrinkles full of wisdom, time, and age Watching the eyebrows of a face is like turning a page
Dreams of midnight sonnets have passed away
The hours tick by One by one The never ending dance twirling around the circular floor The years spin by Withering, decaying, and all the while New life begins Tick, tock, tick, tock
We play simple games These days it's just simple From Monopoly to Candy Land And Scrabble, too Stratego, Risk, you name it We play simple games We get older, and the games go away
I'm like a fine wine,I age like my mom once did,My nature is old
She was a beautiful gleam of light –that last bit of gleaming sunset that strikes through the sky like the chiming ring of a spoon on fine crystal. She was a lone dandelion seed floating on the breeze,
Freedom is not something that can be seen. Freedom is not something that can be asked for, because it is not to be demanded. It can not be given to you.
Deep, still waters serene, calm form a perfect reflection. Form an image of an old, old man, sitting silently upon a rock, with misty breath and withered arms leaning heavily on a stick,
How strangely the world works You have everything you've wanted Yet you still feel alone In a room of your closest friends Why is that so? How desire touches each soul
If life is like an open book, My pages are made of glass. As I carefully make each turn, Time continues to pass. A rip is like a crack, In the story of my life. Any kind of peril,
I am 18 years old But why does that matter You subtract 10 and I’m 8 all over again People always tell you to act your age But no one told me that at 12 I was going to be scared of being onstage
Those minisculed waves resemble my resentful, wrinkled handsAs we descend this goddamned surfaceInto the oblivion called sky and the heavens.
I guess it's just not meant to be, I started out hiding the true me, I really like you, That's why I called you boo, You were my heart and still are, and it sucks that you're mad far
Rushing to the ebony beauty store, Shooting like a swift cannon, I gaze upon stunning mahogany cosmetic brushes. I reach the vine of goat-hair bristles; I pluck the highest one with pure excitement.
At 6, she wanted to be a ballerina.At 9, she wanted to be a doctor.At 14, she wanted to be skinny.At 16, she wanted to be dead.
Angel hands with long and nimble fingers Smoothed with age, paths of wisdom along pale skin They comfort and soothe
Oak wood standing tall against gusting winds that try to force it down
You, the ones before us, burnt the world to ash And we were left to pick through the cinders. You say to yourselves in muffled voices,
I’m 15 and I dread waking up e
I think it's kind of
haunting images scattered on the floor. the cold, dirty floor. memories burning
The world is a cold dead place baby, the man says and you can see he means every word You've got to do it for me now, he says and you can see he means that too he sets you down
No hesitation when my pen touches the paper
The sun is setting and the leaves are turning red or are they green Sit in the windowsill and lean back on the bed Sniff in the citronella whistle through your nose clean
The long, luscious curls of innocence,
I have grown older Over the years And I must confess I do not feel more Like ashes or dust But more like Stone
We look up into the sKy Entwined in it's view for it looks divine In the day that we may die We fly through our past Pray for the day that we lay
most would call me young
i dream of happier days:before the cell phone,her now-constant companion.before computers, iPods.before she caredabout how she looks.about fitting in,conforming.back when a night light
All men are created equal Equal meaning what? Try and try again Give ME the definition
Clear skies on the outside besides the whirlwind taking over inside Everyone else sees you as a kind man
He's sixteen going on thirty, A boy no longer a boy Craving sexual stimulation But a man Craving intellectual conversation.
I remember the dirt buried beneath my fingernails. The anxious feeling of a young girl, choosing the perfect seed to plant. I remember the sense of calm.
My green eyes Gaze against my nearly translucent skin, Then flicker across buildings Of mirrors and concrete, With blurry lights, As rainwater descends, Before pelting my crimson coat,
What is the lesson they intend to instill? Pretending to move forward in our best intent But watch, back they run, now slipping and sliding Forgetting all about promises made To be one nation under God
When my Great Grandmother was near death in the hospital I was curious to see what an old person's butt looks like, so I kept standing on my tippie toes to catch a see
America, America,Land of the free.Boast it all around the world.Equal opportunity. America, America,What does it mean to be free?Tell it to the poor womanwho sits right beside me.
“I pledge allegiance to the flag”and sell my soul to it’s stars and stripes.And to the glory it all withholds.To a nation of spinning clockwork,Perfectly intertwined, two faced,and brainwashed as the injustices
Say "The Pledge Of Alligence" every single morning, to start the day off right. Hands over our hearts and the viel over our eyes.
Faulty is my inner workings, on the fritz, frying, jerking What else can be said of a machine obsolete Launch a shell and sink my ironsides into the depths of the sea Please ,disregard my unconscious wish.
(oh, politics) are you only for adults? the world is filled with children who can't even voice their own opinions. you raise us to be independent you raise us to be proud
Though I'm a woman I know that I am freeThe constitution is alive,a river flowing from sea to shining sea.and despite the fact I'm under 18I know it's not because of my skin that I can't vote,
Hark to the faster beating of my heartAs my eyes see that time hath grown much less.Wherefore dost we leave so near from the start?The thought hath haunted me, I must confess.
Ask me who I am, and I will not hear you, for I am deep within this crowd calling out my own name. I will not know the sound of my own voice until it whispers back. Until then, I will spend my hours
Slowly the old man wanders down the steps His knees don’t bend and his eyes barely see He falls, curses the world under his breath
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder But I say beauty is shown as we get older Through the wrinkles that line our face With such a elegance and grace Our youth begins to fade
Brittle bones, shaking hands, forgotten. Sits broken like the world, spotted with age, wrapped in folds of time. At the brim ready to escape. To run from lips cracked and dry, the concrete that traps us.
I haven’t met you yet, but I have a question. Our paths have never crossed and I have no idea who you are. All the same I thought I should put together my thoughts so I know what to say to you later.
Just because we're teenagers It does not mean that we're all the same And can be guided in identical ways We're individuals Just because we are adolescents It does not mean we are ignorant
What has become of you? Remember our late night talking? You use to be my Teddy, I use to be your Light. We'd spend endless night together, 2 insomniacs, 2 different reasons why.
life is an elevator it has its ups and downs sometimes it switches your plans around but can that be the reason to fall? nah not all letting your emotions take control
A box lies here six sides folded inward weak blankets of dead trees line my insides to be used and discarded, built for the the comforts of a sniveling little child who played in the rain.