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Literature Text
Sometimes, I am invisible.
I like you and I think that you might like me too.
But then some days, when I sit down next to you
And take a peek in your direction
To see if you'll talk to me again today,
You don't look at me at all,
And you don't say hello,
And you make it seem like you've never met me before.
I think it's because I am invisible sometimes.
I like you and I think that you might like me too.
But then some days, when I sit down next to you
And take a peek in your direction
To see if you'll talk to me again today,
You don't look at me at all,
And you don't say hello,
And you make it seem like you've never met me before.
I think it's because I am invisible sometimes.
Literature
syncope
I am in a coma, and this seems like it's happening but it isn't. I am living in my head- a universe where I'm 18 years old but I'll wake up 36. I can see gravity, I can see the wind, I can see all the universes packed inside everyone's heads and it's tiring. it's a loud place here. in my head, I can't react to the environment around me the same way in reality, I'm not moving and I'm living off of the life that the machines give to me. I am disconnected and dead, but sadly not dead enough. I will open my eyes and everything will be different.
cold cement beneath my bare feet. I take this poison every morning. the doctor says it'll help and he
Literature
running.
you tell me that everything has a time limit on it; friendships, days, moments, love. everything is limited, you say, so we might as well rush, run. because it's all going to end anyway, right?
so i started to notice the time stamps painted on your hands, the calendars written all over your heart. i started to wonder, how much time do we have left? how many more held hands, secrets, inside jokes, i love you's? how many more?
i wondered and ran,
ran through the forests without smelling the scent of after-rain. i ran on the darkened streets at midnight without noticing the streetlights, passing lit houses of friends and the sounds of laughte
Literature
imitating life
if it's too broke
don't fix it
pick apart the problems
put the pieces on exhibit
see, my pen breathes & bleeds
because my heart beats too afraid
mistakes made into art
in an attempt to trick my trade
a steady fade away from focus
on the flaws that frame this feeling
fact lacks the impact that makes
fiction so appealing
and an admission's less revealing
(w)rapped in a rhymer's guise
private parts don't rank so major
when they've been generalized
All diameters specified,
and written compositions
from those passed who testified
Limbs encased, and set aside
Windows to the hell inside,
The clash of when my pen collides
Among
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I don't really have much to say about this, other than "it's not much of a poem."
Poem © ~ember-snow (A.K.A. Me)
Poem © ~ember-snow (A.K.A. Me)
© 2008 - 2024 ember-snow
Comments55
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thats exactly how it is with me and my crush!