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Heliza Rose Dec 2013
I  may fall to pieces soon and you wont even be there

I may shatter in sleep and you wont even care

I may get carried by the wind and never return

But the blackness of your self and whitness of mine

can never entwine

I may dine with my dolls

Form a circle,with a fake hall

play dressup one more time before i begin to break

One more lie and one more mistake

Your black desires,my pure white intentions

are destroyed like nothing else matters

the hope,the gift

its going like a life with no spirit.
Syddy Raye Mar 2014
They say they understand how we feel...
They say they know us...
They say they control us...

But they dont understand us,
They don't know us,
And like Hell they control us!

Yeah, I'm so sick of all the bull crap! ( repeat line )

They say they want us gone...
Yet they act as us...
They dress like us...
They pose as us...

And they say we're the freaks when we're not trying to live someone else's life!

Yeah I'm so sick (so sick) of ll the bull crap (bull crap)!
That they try to **** on us...
No that's not how it's gonna' be...

They want us to change...
They want us to be more like them...
Yet, what they don't realize is,
We already are like them,
We just have our own spin on reality!

I'm so sick of all the bull crap!

We are not dressup dolls with fake emotions,
We are the out casts!
We are Emo...
We are Gothic...
We are who we want to be!

I'm so sick of all the bull crap!
So don't bring on the bull crap,
Keep it away from us!
We are done ( Repeat line 2x )
Dear crippling sadness that makes it so tragically difficult to get out of bed in the morning,
You’ve been the imaginary friend i just can’t seem to outgrow the people who use to stare at me and get paid to tell me “oh that’s normal you’ll be okay that man will never find you again….you were after all only five” they told me that i had to take this tiny white happy pill because you….you are the chemical imbalance i suffer from daily. Instead of taking a prescription or therapy i take my thoughts bundle them up like a bouquet and pray to a god i can’t seem to believe in that today i’ll be okay.
 Dear monster that lives inside my brain that i can only see,
when will enough be enough? The people who matter most to me are starting to realize i’m a project that can never be finished…..but was i really even started to begin with? You are that failing grade that is sinking my ship that use to be heading for graduation.
Dear Depression,
you see you and i play so well together, you say jump i ask how high. You teach me that this low i feel can get lower and deeper until i’m six feet deep with a tombstone to decorate how my life has been lived. Everyone will wear black, but my life was so colorful it does not need to be represented by the ugliness of you but merely how creatively i lived. While others were super outgoing and ready for the day i liked to play a little game of “drink some coffee and remember that today is just another play im starring in”. Others were talking about how dances and parties were coming up i learned to play “dressup” i could dress up a wound, i could dress up my look so you would not leak through the bandages of an already forgotten night.
Dear ‘I want to care but it’s not in me today to even care to try’,
Having anxiety and depression is like not caring about anything but caring way too much about everything, to the point i get a new assignment and start crying. Depression, the summer before my ninth grade year you taught me the trick of how to disappear, coffee in the morning, salad at dinner there was no room in my stomach to eat more than that. My therapist stared at me and told me our little friend ana was on her way to take over me completely and out the door into the coffin i would go. They said my body will cave in on itself as if my ribs were too fragile to carry this weight i had left on me. So it began to eat away the bad. I’d lay in bed at night and the gnawing feeling at the pit of my stomach was each award i was given for every rib they could see.
Dear mom and dad,
You told me to just be happy. So that day i took all of my antidepressants i was just doing what you told me to do. Who knew it’d be labeled under an overdose.
Shylah S Nov 2017
once there was a boy
he wanted to be a man
but he misunderstood
he saw these self-proclaimed "men"
stoic big strong
sweep a lady off their feet
smooth as butter on a frying pan
he played dressup
crisp suits and hats

I fear he failed to realize though
he was a man
in fact the manliest of them all

a mark of a man is not
how many women swoon in his presence
the way he walks
the depth in his voice

it's his compassion
to be truly himself
to love fully
of pure heart
for that is the man to rule all men
I would've liked another tomboy to catch tadpoles with,
but the boys hung out with other boys,
and the  girls, well, I guess they didn't
enjoy mucking about in a silty pond
with a smellyAussie Shepherd named Duke.

On a hot summer day, the murky water
was cooling, and the slinky little fellas
provided a challenging hunt. I imagined
they came up from a subterranean kingdom
with a Father and Mother Frog watching
from below. But I was quick, and
Duke would alert me to nearby swimmers.

Together we'd catch and release a dozen or so,
never meaning to harm. Except one day,
I decided to take some home in a glass
milk bottle. I hid it in the woods near my house
and forgot about it. Never again!
I considered them my friends, playmates.

I grew up straight, in case you're wondering.
So you see, girls can play dressup with paper dolls
AND build hideouts, go fishing,
climb trees, catch tadpoles, even read
Popular Mechanics cover to cover,
sketching self-driving cars that floate above
the road (on what, I wasn't sure).
But it was what I loved to do.

Explore, experiment, challenge, PLAY!
And my slimy friends were as good as any
to play with. They didn't disapprove
of my wild ways like many parents in
my uptight little town. But now that I
think of it, there was one boy who invited me
to climb trees with him.

He was lonely, living with his grandparents.
Before I headed back home one day,
he told me his Granny said "You could've picked
a prettier girl to bring home."
Like the song says "Que sera, sera." But it
did make me worry about my looks.
That was the last summer I chased tadpoles.

— The End —