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I sort of know why things are this way
I sort my thoughts about it into little glass jars inside of my mind

Making light of my troubles I smile past them
Making light beams shining through the darkness that is my heart

The race that I belong to of crooked misfits without the appealing
rebellious pride
The race I run everyday wondering how I'll ever chase down Time and pass it at the finish line, but I can't keep up and Time, just like Life, goes too quickly

The club trumps my heart everyday, every moment, and I do loathe being second best, yet again
The club of Inadequacy that beats me ****** and bruised everyday

The fairness of your face can alter your fate and change whether you are adored or disliked
The fairness of reality is horribly off balance and nearly nonexistent

So I must act fine and dress fine and look fine because only the lovely are loved in this world
So I must act fine even though I am not okay because I can't be what I am not and I get to be what I was born as and that is my identity and my identity only gets a single definition, only one single meaning I get to be Me and that means Me, it can't mean Me as well as Lovely.

and I just can't be a double meaning.

Repost if you cannot be a double meaning.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! :)
Repost if you cannot be a double meaning.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! :)
She’s the type of scary that isn’t in horror movies or Halloween decorations, not the kind that makes you scream or want to run away but the silent sort that paralyzes you and makes you wish you had never, not just lived, but existed at all after witnessing that type of darkness. The kind that instills mind shattering dread in your soul and the desire to simply crumble inwards totally destroyed in a pile of dust so you may never feel again because nothing will ever fix what you saw and felt. The kind of scary that makes you properly comprehend the word’s meaning. I would be wrong, however, if I were to tell you she is the worst kind of scary because the word “worst” means it’s the furthest on the scale and this terror is not on the same scale as any other sort of scary. This broke the scale. This is beyond. This is its own kind of scary. On its own level, in its own dimension, under its own category,
this


....is true scary....

Please comment I'd love to hear any thoughts! This is a description of a free verse poem describing one of the characters I created.
Please comment I'd love to hear any thoughts! This is a description of a free verse poem describing one of the characters I created.
People of all ages sitting in a circle staring at the ground, ceiling, etc. a few twitching.

"Hi, I'm Fred."

"Hi Fred"

"I started this group because I found that I was on Hello Poetry 24/7. I got an account and I loved it. At first I was only on a little, posting one or two poems a day. But I loved it so much I began spending more time on it. It became a problem when I was fired for focusing on Hello Poetry instead of the heavy machinery I was operating. I was drinking so much coffee so I didn't have to sleep that I couldn't think straight. I began writing strange poems about adhesive sloths and grapes. My wife threatened to leave me if I didn't delete my account. I tried to stay off it but, it didn't work out. My wife took my kids and told me that I was too irresponsible. I responded with a limerick. She was very mad and left immediately after. I really want to stop being addicted to Hello Poetry and when I asked I got an overwhelming response from people who felt the same. If everyone could please introduce themselves in a clockwise direction."

"Hi… I'm… um… kittylover682"

"Hi kittylover682"

"So… I used to have a name, but now I can only remember my screen name. In fact, that is really the only part of my identity that remains. I miss obsessing over kitties and petting them, but now I just spend all my time on Hello Poetry. I used to have such a kitty-full life! I had so much potential! i made friends with every type of kitty, even new ones, i never discriminated. I met persian kitties, and alley kitties and tabby kitties and I went and pet them and showed them love… then i got kicked out of people's houses for sneaking in to pet their kitties… but my point is, kitties were my LIFE! And now, my life revolves around that little lightening bolt and i can only seem to speak in metaphors. That lightning bolt is the death of my heart, the thorn in my side, the electricity that warps my body and it just… it is a storm inside of my life. The agony when i see that my lightning bolt is not lit up with a notification… it is an undying fiery hell within my soul. I makes me want to… to… well, it makes me consider leaping off of cliffs or in front of trains… but the only thing that stops me is the hindering idea that I may have to get off of hello poetry for a few moments to go do that so I remain, under my bed on my computer, posting poetry, reading poetry, commenting, liking, reposting… its a VICIOUS CYCLE!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!!!!”

“Hi I’m DaPoet”

“Hi DaPoet”

“Like, kittylover682 I had a different name, but this is MUCH cooler. I don’t think I have a problem, because who says there is anything wrong with being a poet? Also I’m not a normal poet. All of my poems are also raps. I’m here because my mom thinks I have a problem. Apparently choosing poetry over sleep and school is not okay. I don’t understand her ‘logic’”

“Hi I’m DYING”

“Hi Dying”

“No, that’s not my name, who CARES what my name is?! I’m only still here and not on Hello Poetry right now because my sister has chained me to this chair and bolted it to the floor. She thinks I need help but I AM DYING! I need to get on it! I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM! I’M FINE! I’M FINE! GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”

“Please calm down.”

“Shut up Fred!
There once was a man named Fred,
who got it into his stupid head,
that people needed to be cured,
of the obsession with the written word,
and as soon as I get unchained FRED IS GOING TO BE DEAD!”

“Okay… please stop creating violent limericks on the spot. We have all been there, there IS a way out.”

“I DON’T WANT A WAY OUT! I HATE TO SHOUT, BUT WITHOUT A DOUBT YOU ARE A BIG DUMB LOUT!”

“Okay, stop making really ****** rhymes please.”

“Well then… GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”

“Okay… let’s just move on. We’ll come back to you. Next person, please go on, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut. Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver, after all.”

“Hi I’m…Sally”

“Excuse me, could you put down your phone while you introduce yourself?”

“No… Oh my gosh, Poetry is Life started trending!”

“I’m sorry what?”

“My fourth latest poem started trending!”

“YAY!” *everyone claps and congratulates Sally


“No. No more Hello Poetry. We are supposed to stop obsessing over poetry and be cured from this addiction.”

“I don’t want to be cured.”

“I love Hello Poetry”

“Why don’t we change this to a spoken word club!”

“Yes!”

“Hi I’m DaPoet and I declare this a new spoken word club!”

“YAY!”

“No no no! I created this to-” Sally clubs Fred in the head with her phone and he drops dead

“YAY! FRED IS DEAD!”

“He was hit in the head”

“And we are now free”

“To write continuous poetry!”

“And become more obsessed instead!”

The end.


REPOST IF YOU REALLY NEED TO ATTEND THIS SUPPORT GROUP TOO LIKE US
PLEASE COMMENT! WE LOVE TO READ ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE!
REPOST IF YOU REALLY NEED TO ATTEND THIS SUPPORT GROUP TOO LIKE US
PLEASE COMMENT! WE LOVE TO READ ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE!
Tears rush down my cheeks
My nose runs
I desperately scrounge for Kleenex
You stand and stare awkwardly
Unapologetic for your cruelty

You're safe for now; I'm still crying
But once this flood stops
And I figure out exactly how much is your fault
You'll die

I still have ten seconds of bawling

You have ten seconds to run

Run to Ecuador and become a drug dealer

******* the Yakuza in Kyoto

Double cross a gang of Trinidadians

Become an alcoholic gold miner

All of these are less consequential than what I plan to do.

Any place is safer than in front of me, so you'd best be fleeing.

Ten seconds *******.
Constructive criticism welcome. No, I do not plan on killing anyone currently. Stop trying to have Glenrose take me away, mom!
People assume I'm just black.
One drop rule, I suppose.
I guess I'm a black girl with a Starbucks addiction.
Girls married off
To a dogma they can't stop
Decided at birth
I would tell you it hurts
That it truly is terrible
But it gave me an outlet
Made rebellion bearable

I abhor to see they way
They block us make us stay
They're pretty little vessels
But now it's too fun, I have to wrestle
The rules and regulations
The trials and tribulations
They really aren't that terrible

Mess with the horns, you get the teeth
Because she's determined to become a female preist
Tell her that it's wrong
That she disobeys God
But she'll just tap the Old Testament
Won't let her resentment
Control her when she smites you
Constructive criticism is appreciated. Admittedly, I don't know what story I was trying to tell
I'm tired of being told
To pick a side
To choose a race
Lest it be chosen by archaic values

I'll not be told I'm ''acting black''
Or that I'm an ''Oreo''
For being my mixed bag self
So I'll start a new race

Race is defined by ******* predetermined factors
But my race will be awesome
It won't be exclusive to
Skin colour
Hair texture
Language
Or eyes
Not the Canadian Race (working title)

Do you live in Canada?
Congratulations, you have now joined a new race!!!
Tired being told to choose a race or get called derogatory terms like
Mullatto
Wasian
Half Loser?
Join my epic race!!!
Believe in diplomacy, and using violence as a last resort?
Hooray!!! You should join now!
Tired of having your country be used as a cultural punching bag for America?
A pain deeply felt. Welcome to the Canadian Race.

I'm not black.
I'm not white.
I'm Canadian.
Constructive Criticism Appreciated. What do you think about the idea of race? Would you join? I'm curious. Let me know.
That awkward moment when
You realize your entire life
Your passions
Your opportunities
Your abilities
Are all made possible by the
Blood
Sweat
And Tears
Of people you will never even know
Existed
Constructive Criticism Appreciated.
Your blood paints the walls
Intestines spill everywhere
Don't take my chocolate
I need a poem
Writer's block is killing me
Woah I found a grape
Please comment with ideas for a poem. The more random or obscure, the better.
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