Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
tatum spencer Mar 20
validation is like drugs. the first time i got validated, i felt like i was floating. i was above cloud 9 just by someone telling me “you’re my friend” in the third grade. not best friend. not my soulmate. friend, and i couldn’t stop my smile from spreading. feeling needed by someone who doesn’t actually need you is a fantastic feeling. that’s why my heart races when anybody invites me to hang out. they didn’t need attention - didn’t need my attention, specifically -  but the syringe filled with proof that i am a fun person to be around sticks directly into my veins and stays there until the medicine runs out and i no longer have the serotonin for those around me. the euphoria and i dwindle, and i grow distant, because it’s become evident that i wasn’t needed for your journey; i was just a pitstop. someone who could give you some laughs but doesn’t have enough advice to listen to your problems. i can tell you your dress looks nice but i don’t have enough courage to defend you in a fight. i can remember your favorite color but you didn’t remember me enough to resurface old photos of us at fifteen and smile at the thought of our memories. i’ve been down this road before. trust me, i have. i want to be seen, but not to be sorry for. don’t look at my past and defy it as my present. i’m not the lonely kid who sat on swingsets and barely had the strength to push herself. i’m not the little girl who had no one to twirl me during daddy-daughter dances. i am still the girl who wishes things were different, but you don’t need to know that. so please, tell me that i’ve changed. tell me that you’re proud. tell me that everything is going to be okay, and that i’m worthy to stay the night. that i won’t become another pitstop.
rick Mar 20
not good enough to be in your band
or join your basketball team
but good enough
to spectate or be your water boy
not good enough
to pass your classes academically
but good enough to receive a passing grade
for participation that helped me graduate
so I’d be out of your hair
not good enough
to break bread with you at the lunch table
because our parents made different salaries
but good enough
to be put down when you needed a laugh
or to feel better about yourself
not good enough
to answer back when I needed your help
but good enough
to be a nostalgic crutch when you need someone
to lean on
I’ve only been good enough
to stand in front of your machines,
to fill out your paperwork,
to sweep your floors
but not good enough
to advance at this job or in this society
and now I’ve found myself conquering the world
despite your predictions, despite your conjectures
despite your criticism, despite your disparaging remarks.
I have made myself who I am today based on the indifference
towards your humiliation, your rejections, your rebukes
so, if you see me on the streets and I don’t say “hi”
it just means you weren’t worthy of acknowledging
and if I give you the sharp eye and spit in the trash can
it only means I’ve forgotten about you completely
and that is good enough for me.
Norbert Tasev Mar 20
In front of us is a messy, -to say, -in the ***** of a stoic, tuna indifference, perhaps a bit persecuted, human -wreeds, give each other; I still want to save their movable values. Not only the spiritual poor-but also the turrannos that want to be of power, suffer from unknown blindness, because well-suited false interests are cheap, lying, and even so, the average is the same.

There may have been nicer, more successful worlds all over themselves, and as light promises, anyone who is still very susceptible to it was well-placed. Initially, all wills and intentions are creative and evolving, and in the meantime, it becomes manipulated, which runs through hand and middle and is ready for a pseudo -illusion, in which, undoubtedly, it can even be clung to a couple of decades, but after an accelerated disappointment; What was the point of formulas for dreams of card castles?! - Because the consciousness is increasingly not taking its place in its possible van.

And while upstairs, the pigeons who are desiring to fall in the sky can raid and they can empty their waste material in their mourning, the simple average can hardly wipe not only the liquid snow-white snacks on his head, but also the petty bribery of capitalized life.

It would be good to steal the expandable time, as well as the secret of Eden, a little for ordinary people; Instead of an imaginary joy and apparent, acute happiness crushes, extend the tangible prosperity that you. Not only spiritus, but even the Sus, is losing weight too early.
Norbert Tasev Mar 19
Who else remembers the faithful, friendly handshake, which we used to give each other a gift of each other as the pledge of possible adult lives?! Next to our eyes, the raven-born, attractive little hind legs are trembling, while our thinning hair, which began to be bald, testifies to decades of turning reversal.

In the harbor of the sea bays, Lorelalay fairy shape, unfolds his long hair, on which the water drops are still trembling as the pearls of real beads, and his superstitious gaze still says, "Don't be afraid of anything! I will save from all the Galad -Komis troubles that this traitorous world will deliver to us!

This is how the exclusion of conscious loneliness was once; When we thought we were eternal childish, adolescent, that the so-called. Absolute adults can never speak anymore because it does not belong to them. And while the soft heads were overgrown, and some of their children were born, somewhere that little man had a far away, and on the jersey of the cooked weekdays, fearful, we can hear his child -mouthed intellect.

The deeply hidden silent man was unexpectedly knocked, and while he was hesitant, we were stuck on the chessboard of the capitalized life: that we should go where we should go or just happen to be happy and happy.
greatsloth Mar 18
You see words the same way I do,
With eyes that glow in yearning,
With heart bursting at the seams—
My comrade, you are.

We traverse these dimensions
Of black and white,
Where the smell of papers
Lingers into our lives.

Each smile is a memory,
A dream or an adventure;
We have bonds beyond reality
More precious than any treasure.

It is carved deep into our marrow,
Identical to the myths that we hallow,
The moment you read any prose,
Fate binds us as fellows.

Your mind and my mind
Like God's hands they intertwined,
Creating myriads of realities
That only we could realize.
Made for the AB month of our college.
Norbert Tasev Mar 18
He was deeply concerned about this step -by -step, apocalyptic earth order. Invisible, infectious, circling atomic jets are pregnant fruits and vegetables. From the harons of the rotten furrows, even the gillys and worm-fenes have long been extinct or fled. They took their tent pain like some. Modern man, with modern digital drone tools and the needle-pointed destinations of target designs, still crafts his fellow human beings.

Spirally wrapped in snake -like maze -feared -no longer and may not be a solution; Others dictate not only the statutes of the game, but also -perhaps -in the earthly confusion, the mere existence of existence. In the gray prison of concrete frame, even the smell of formalin is stagnated and degraded into an increasingly unbearable nausea.

The robe of wounded souls is now increasingly ravens to tear, wrinkles, as if it were a bunnied Prometheus who could never be rid of underworld vulture, stolen the fire for the withered people. As an uninvited guests, Katyusa was wandering around, bombshell, while a crumbling machine is screaming into the melodies of the Ruttering Winds.

The replaced, former childhood dreams are now criminal on the appealing hanger of life to you. They still wanted to dream of a livelier future, but maybe hopeless; Pale cheese-moon would illuminate the messages of mystical flyers with Pisla tiger nails ...

A tiny, innocent lie is enough for someone to press that particular red button, and while life is so fragile as the grass that nature or human feet can be trampled at any time, we hang on to be tolerated, forced on the degree of chessboard, either straw or waxy, inanimate!
Que Mar 14
who sanctioned these tears?
i might drown.
my body is not strong enough
to carry the weight
i drag myself down.
there's whispers, slight tremors
of what ailed me.
vibration inadequate to challenge
what failed me.
am i good enough?
or does the silent screaming
distract too much?
ask for too much?
Que Mar 14
Coffee in the ashes
a chaotic tragedy
teetering on the edge
of infantile sanity.
clawing away at what hindsight gave me;
what the mishaps shaved from me.
and you keep coming back
like a perennial gunshot
to the barricades i put up.
Que Mar 14
what I would do
here reminiscing in your shadows.
faint laughs wafting: sweet gestures taunting.
I crave what was
I cave from what is.
call me mentally weak
but I doubt anyone else
would've lasted this long,
cried this hard, held on this strong.

what i could do
with your tone piercing my sanity
I long to be cherished
and seen
not tolerated or screamed
at like a dog.

what I should do
just waiting to spring from my tongue,
boundaries like flowers
I never watered;
sun-dried and half-withered.
Que Mar 15
cease my dance and ask why I don't smile
I've laid down my wants and needs
I've ignored what I know to be true
all so you could have your throne.
drowning in a pool of my self-loathing
and you want to see me splash, perform
all I am melting down to be bite-size for you.
breaking down to my nerves and fibers,
cause you want to see me rip myself to shreds.
you want me in a corner so I won't call for help
isolated from everyone who cares so I won't
tell anyone how I really feel
no space in your arms, I feel heavy in your heart
I've crushed myself like a soda can
no air, no light, no exit art
take this sadness for what it is
wishing I'd only parted from you then
"thus much let me avow"
you killed what good I had left
bruised the happy I should have now
decay replaces the once vibrant green.
poised at the ready to take one for the team.
selfish as it may be, I can't breathe.
Next page