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 Jan 2017 Blossom
Mike Patten
We need to stop analyzing the past,
Let go of planning the future,
Quit trying to define every feeling,
Or control exactly what we want and when.

Sometimes, we just need to stop,
And see what happens.

Because what we learn, and who we become,
In the process of waiting,
Is often more important than the thing we were actually waiting for.
 Jan 2017 Blossom
Ryan Hoysan
A rose is beautiful to behold
Its stem a pain to hold
Though easier to hold
Is a rose without thorns
Really a rose
Pristine and true?
This poem came from listening to my professor talk about trigonometry. Much more entertaining to focus on this, I think.
 Jan 2017 Blossom
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Soulmate
 Jan 2017 Blossom
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A lot of people told me
When you passed away
That I may have lost one good soul
But the sky gained another angel

I promised you before you took your last breath, I will look for you
I will make you fall in love with me again, whatever it takes
I will not get tired

But I am getting tired,

"How high do I  have to be before I can say I already am in the sky?"
"How far do I have to reach before I can say that I am already touching a cloud and not just mere water and air?"
"How high is the sky?"
"How far do I have to fly before I meet you again?"



*And as I take my last breath, I knew, the sky is not too far
 Jan 2017 Blossom
aviisevil
Stuck inside my own mind
I'm a prisoner to the slave
This pain isn't an end or kind
I have no friends in this cage

Turning pages before they burn
In six months it'll be my turn to cry

So let me grieve for a moment
For there'll be nothing left to feel

I wasn't meant to be
and I don't know why

I see the river flow into the sea
Is that what's going to be my destiny ?
I look inside the mirror
I can't find me
It's screaming at me
Screaming at me with all of its hollow
It's so empty
As if it has swallowed everything



So feed me your dreams
Mine were killed long ago
I don't know what this place means
I was never smart enough to know

Always searching for a tomorrow

Now the rain never stops
And my eyes are always blurred
I'm at the bottom sitting on a rock
Thinking about you and your world

In my own way
I'll tell you about my words

They never came easy
Until I was pretending to be hurt


Turning pages before they burn
In six months it'll be my turn to cry

So let me grieve for a moment
For there'll be nothing left to feel

I wasn't meant to be
and I don't know why



So let me lie
Let me say my goodbye
It's my time to die


It's my time to fly.
 Jan 2017 Blossom
Organized Chaos
Chocolate milk is so sweet
Chocolate milk is what I eat
Chocolate milk in a bowl
Chocolate milk in my soul

If chocolate milk did not exist
I would be surely ******
Life is pure liquid brown
I just chugged a gallon down

When I drink too much of it
I run to the bathroom, quickly sit
Contemplating life hits hard
This chocolate milk caught me off guard

I thought this was the end of me
I begged for mercy with a plea
Stuck on this god forsaken bowl
I'm sure I made a huge black hole

Not proud of myself for what I did
I waddled away from which I rid
If there is one lesson I learned today
it's to put up the lid, before I sit and pray
Dedicated to Zach, the only person who would appreciate this xD
 Jan 2017 Blossom
Organized Chaos
My love was off, to a foreign land.
A place of beauty, food, and sand.
Off on her plane, away she goes.
I hope she's safe, who really knows?

I settle down to watch TV.
"Man, I wish she would've taken me!"
Relaxing, eating, being quite lazy
the news I heard, made me hazy.

A plane had crashed, to where she was going.
my heart was in pain, almost overflowing.
Calling and texting, like you wouldn't believe,
My brain running through thoughts, never relieved.

Standing my ground, I did not falter.
Until I eventually broke down, kneeling at the alter.
Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like hell
I was afraid I would never break out of this spell.

Then one day, I got a call!
I knew she was safe, I started to bawl!
When I met her I dared not let go.
Her beauty radiated like a perfect rainbow.

This poem ended nicely, reunited again.
But for others, their minds are stuck in a den.
If they were to write, about the poem you just read
it'd be about the plane that left their loved ones dead.
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