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writers blockI have writers block.
I don't know when it came
Or how, I just know
That it appeared
Judging, telling me
My work was pathetic
Pathetically awful, incapable
Of making someone's bad day
I tried riding of it of it
By telling it to go, and
That I didn't need it
But I was ignored.
I tried using a friend of mine,
Hate, yelling and screaming
And abusing the block.
Silly me, I forget it has
I try to throw it away, hoping
It gets run over,
But I can never catch
The writer's block.
It's safe to say... Nothing worked.
Have I been defeated by this
Devastating force? Do I give
Up, and take up sports instead?
No. That's not me.
So I sit down in front of my
Computer, and I write. I write
Wonderful, pointless nonsense.
The click-click-click of the keys
Makes the block crumble, knowing
It's criticism has no effect.
As the block erodes, it screams out one final
Protest, until it's finally gone.
My computer screen is filled with
Garbage words, imprinted on.
chords all prowl
never held ground
A roar, a scream
a distorted dream
the nightmare song
No right, no wrong,
Music play its
only tune, calling
It's too soon
In the chaotic
air, hanging hope
skin worn down
spine and bone
whatever I loved
I loved alone.
.You gave me wings
They turned to stone
You gave me hope
I'm still alone
I followed orders
Like you told me to
Always more to do
I've got everything;
Glory, money, but
I was still left empty
Tell me: Now what?
Path of lifeLife is a dangerous path
Full of twists and traps
A path we're forced to walk
Without turning back
We may regret the past
We may regret the mistakes
But we must learn from them
And keep moving on
We may predict the future
And even fear it
But we never know
What happens next
The only thing we have
Is the present, here and now
So let's live it
And forget about the rest
The mistakes of the past
The mysteries of the future
All part of life
This path we all walk
wordless they succumbAnd they fell -
just like that.
Just like the act of breathing;
soundless and inevitable.
Like an eager girl slipping
straps from her shoulders,
the soft crush of silk at her feet.
We Have No TimeAll we have
Is a sliver
Everything we will
Do in life
We all die before we know it
Its a fact of life
And I am already dying
A slow painful death
One year at a time
One month at a time
One week at a time
One day at a time
Then we flatline
On a metal sheet
Buried in the dirt
To think we were born yesterday
Only to die tomorrow
Winter's GirlI was winter's girl,
frozen under a thick layer of ice.
People tried to break it with their ice picks, but to no avail.
They eventually left me cold and in pieces in my frozen abyss.
You're thawing me out, slowly but surely.
"Summer girls aren't for me, "you say.
"Too full of sick strawberry sweetness."
That was just said to comfort me, but it oddly worked.
Maybe time with you will make me a summer girl,
no more need for thawing,skating with you above my ice.
WonderlandWhen I was little, I knew Wonderland.
Logic was faulty and rules were no more.
Up was down; down was up.
That was how it constantly was.
Fish swam in the air and drowned in water.
Worries were small and dreams were big.
One fell up until they reached the clouds,
Which were then used for soft beds and pillows.
Gender was an unnoticed trait.
Everyone was blind.
Everyone could see.
There were no expectations to uphold.
I was happy.
Then I woke up-or fell asleep-
Into a world with war and prejudice and plague.
I wondered then, and I do now…
Was Wonderland not the real world?
to the girl with the razors in her back pocket,stop. turn around. i understand you,
and i understand the sadness
entrenched in your bones. i understand
the late nights spent in anxious prayer
to the towels, to the creaky floorboard
just outside your parents' room, to the sink
that stains too easily. i understand
the catastrophic glances that people throw you
when you open your mouth and try
to belong. i understand the intense moments
spent in dressing rooms splicing together outfits
that will gracefully sweep past tally-marked wrists and ankles
and hopefully make sense in the dead of summer.
i understand the nights that you carve the emptiness
onto the razor and wonder if it wouldn't be better
to just die tonight instead. no one can be angry...
or disappointed...or judgmental...or sympathetic (because
sometimes forced empathy is the worst)...when you
no longer exist. it just stops. and anything
has to be better than this.
well, you're right about one thing. it does
get better. and not in that corny way
people tell you. you won't se
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