who
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I taste your anger,
I feel your sorrow.
You occupy your own mental space with words of injustice on others.
When little do you know the world around you is just a reflection of you.
How do you feel,
When you witness demise?
How do you deal,
Without effort to try?
How do you see,
When you're dead, so blind?
Who can I be,
So dead inside?
How can you say,
texas,don,g,nutt,59,poem,im me so who you im me so how could this be im me so who be you im me so what it do talking down get down round for round known but the thought the point is who you you say who me i be the m,v.p.
I am rolling hills of Kevlar skin
I am night before the days begin
I am terra cotta heart
I am stories yet to start
I am bones of solid gold
I am young, but I am old
I am war yet to be won
I am not her,
Not my past,
Nor a name.
I am not the order
Of the stars,
Or the gods of the months,
Or the beasts that follow the moon.
Our value no more than
Swimming through water so black,My heart beats dully in its cage.Not a soul should see the crack,Splitting in pieces with conquering rage.
Who made you look twice upon yourself in the mirror you passed; rather than preach of your hips and tell stories of your lips!
As if they could not do the same.
This is what Autism looks like:
A pretty girl with gap teeth and long brown hair
Yelling to herself in different voices
(Reciting memories, we think) --
A lively man who paces and moves his whole frame
i ask for the one never exist,
i sing loud to the compose whom never heard my voice,
screaming into the sky,
It is a question
answers is
many thing about...
But
breath to breath
enjoy at live
god is dance
with you!
Stop your breath
anything nothing
god is always that...
Metaphorically I am a simile,
like an allusion,
I AM an oxymoron,
a flagrant euphemism,
a hyperbolic faux-pas,
so masculine, I could metonymously eat a feminist,
I'm am from peaceful summer days with busy and cold nights
I am from my secert hiding net, below the porch
I am from where music sets the soul free and helps the youth speak their mind.
She catches my eye as she passes by
My mind begins to think
"Who is that girl I must know.
Every day is a gift,
all the days just flow so swift
try to live positive & for others try to uplift...
<3
You are here for a reason bigger than you
I know some time you wonder what am I here to do?
Is it some thing huge & grand, here...
Am I what people say I am
Am I what people want me to be
Am I who I think I am
Am I who I want to be
Would a filter be typing?
Would a filter mean no erasing?
Does that mean I can't correct my grammar?
I'm going to give you the realest me there is, no bullsh*t.
Well, to begin, my appearance.
As the population grows,
Every human being becomes less important,
Of less concern to the person next to them.
One day we will have found a solution to running out of resources and created more,
they like the people
shaken
not stirred
but people are better off
empowered
than insured
and who are they anyway
because they
Tried but true with the gentle honesty hidden within my grin,
light green eyes that lookout to see the world from within.
Slightly pink skin aging slowly with wisdom,
When I was born, my father looked me in the eyes and could only manage the word, "wow" out of his dry lips, because he knew immediately that I was going to be a handfull.
Being told I am not enough
I get hurt because I care too much
I turn to things that help me up.
The art of makeup makes me forget who I was
I got myself a new identity since I cannot go back to what I was.
I perch on a blanket underneath a huge oak tree ,
Watching interesting individuals pass by me.
I quietly laugh to myself as the popular girls at school walk by in a heard,
I perch on a blanket underneath a huge oak tree ,
Watching interesting individuals pass by me.
I quietly laugh to myself as the popular girls at school walk by in a heard,
What you see before you is not what I see in the mirror. For the mirror knows the true person who always hides behind the mask. Tell me, is it true that the most common mask we put on every day is a smiling face?
Tilt head to the right
Show left side of face
Give a smile and make it bright
One good shot is all it takes
to speak but cannot form the words that would fulfill my thoughts desire.
to gain freedom but scared to face the breakout of war against another.
yes, yes this is how you and i must feel, this is how you and i try to explain,
I have an innovative mind
One with many characters and personalities
My friends are imaginary, a figment of my dreams
They come alive as I write on the pages inside a blank notebook of my alter worlds.
The biggest question that will remain a mystery, is who are we really supposed to be or become.? yes we all have dreams of becoming something one day, but that doesnt mean that is who we are called to be....
Inside my heart are a pile of needles, they stick me often, making me bleed internally
This pain is caused by an unknown man
A man that was never a father to his child.
I've lived 16 years, wondering where he was
This poem was inspired by Rosemarie Uquico's poem "Date A Girl Who Reads."
Who am i to you?
Am i that girl that always gets in the way?
That you sit back and say, "she always doing something."
Who am i to you?
Am i the girl you call a "bitch" because of the way i walk,
We are undefined by words alone, the ones who stand, the rolling stones.
They will say stand out in a crowd and try something newBut heaven forbid that you actually do.
What will be when I am gone?
I think this question, thinking I’ll go on
But for all I know, I could die tomorrow
Then, would my loved ones grieve in sorrow?
Tell me. Who do you see?
When I look in the mirror... Who looks back at me?
Who should I see? Who am I really?
I hear the soft footsteps of rain outside my window,
It’s louder friend only seconds behind.
They bring me no fear,
No wariness, no excitement.
Who knew,That love was a thief?
Not I,Until it robbed me of my heart.
Who would’ve thought,That when in love you’d grieve?
Not I,Until I watched you leave.
I was introduced to poetry 7th grade.
I started to understand the concept: releasing.
I write because it is an outlet for my frustration.
I am bound in new white pages,
I am read throughout the ages.
I am old and I am new,
I am false and I am true.
I am past, present, and future,
I am modern and old culture.
I am the hero and the villain,
What do you see? What do you hear?
What do you feel, what’s coming near?
How does it happen? How does it come?
How does it rise, or fall from the sun?
Where does it live? Where does it sleep?
"Who are you?"
Are you the super sweet one
that everyone seems to know so well
Or maybe the one thats so swift to get angry
And begin to yell
Or are you the one
That's slowly sinking into sadness
This
Is who I am,
Feelings
You cannot find
With five senses.
Feelings,
Of the worlds pain
As my own.
This
Is me
In a much greater place
Than thee.
So great,
who is we
where does this we reside
is it the same place as where we’ve come from
have we progressed at all or is here to comfortable
are the chains to comfortable
what if harriet tubman was afraid of the dark
Each fight we have, tears me down,
Of your standard, I've fallen short.
Barely hanging on with pain,
Can't you see that we're the same?
