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Sylvene Taylor Jan 2014
Breathing in that familiar smell of sweet coffee that screams Starbucks i sit quietly inside....alone..but actually, i am accompanied by some cheap elevator music which closely resembles country, and my grande cup of thoughts. This grande cup feels more like a thousand grande cups: a possy almost. This possy fills the empty Starbucks with small talk and the soft murmur that many people usually create. This possy keeps me way more company than any other living breathing flesh.

The thought that sits closest beside me is my mask that i purchased before i could pick out my favorite colored sweater. I wear this mask every day of my life although not always at own will. its hard to admire whats staring back you every morning when your cards dont match the ones on screen. It goes like this, i feel as if i had horse like pony tail hair crawling down my black so silky and taking a skydive at my *** would make it a HELL of a lot easier to wear this mask of mine in which has the title of: MY FACE.
But what is it about the crystal blue eyes that show the rhythm of the ocean or the solidity of the sky? WHAT is it about the deep forest green or the eyes that you can see more than just the sky that is so appealing? HAVENT YOU HEARD??
"THE DARKER THE BERRY THE SWEETER THE JUICE?"

So why does it seem the whiter the paper the more in favor. the blonder the hair the greater the fair, you seem to have in life. MAYBE its the recommendations in which the tv inscribes for us. Maybe its the runway that draws the rules of beauty.
The twiggier the prettier
the fatter the more laughter you receive from people who dont even know
your ****
name.
As I stare at the reflection and into the deep pools of confusion I fish out decent..and different,
but not pretty. I never arrive at the adjective pretty when i look at the reflection staring back at me but
does it ever occur that i do not strive to be merely pretty but something more.
DO NOT and i mean DO NOT EVER
slap a label onto my forehead titled pretty.
dont slap the sticker of cute either.
find another **** sticker
that you can not find at a store, this sticker is so original that it doesn't exist, its so intricate, considered more than an antique
for I AM MORE THAN A MISSION TO ARRIVE TO PRETTY.

Do not look into my cage where I sing and call me beautiful- for its funny how that so called gift seems to be nothing but a mere sample at a beauty supply. Im not a biscuit for you cant butter me up and salt me down for ill never be your favorite dish you can take a bite out of for comfort. I am more than just a piece of meat for I am more than just an adjective for you will not be able to pick up a dictionary and collect the word that fits me best.

I am more, WE are more, we cant be thrown into a binder full of women---no, for no binder is large enough to hold the complexity of just
one. woman.

Listen to the sound, and loose it, its sweet music, and dance with me, for there is beauty in the world so much beauty in the world. But we put a parental block on it we ignore that ad
we throw away that piece as if they are the unwanted leaves to the strawberry,
or the peel to the banana---we drive by that ordinary girl.

We sadly fail to realize-fail to notice the blue skies, notice the butterflies, but you will NOT fail to notice me.
Now, Starbucks is full-full of other rocky mountain climbs and terrible tumbles. It has become a pool of not only coffee...but pools and pools and rivers and seas,
of insecurities.
sorry its long- not meant to be offensive
Laura Jun 2015
Did you ever really see me
Did you ever look past the fence
I know I build one around me but for you
I unhinged the lock and let you advance
Did you size me up in a passing glance
Did you throw me to the wayside when you found
The opportune chance
Did you check my resume and see a lack of
Creative projects and weathered portfolios
Did you dismiss my non-fine arts degree
Surely a history major like me
Had no flashy spark similar
To your friends and artsy possy
“I’m just a passionate person”
I recall being your excuse
As to why our failed romance
Had to cease on cue
Well sit down and listen up buddy
I’m here to share a few thoughts
You see writers like me
Don’t paint pretty pictures
Music doesn’t come from our fingertips and lips
We don’t work on logos
And I don’t have much of an eye for design
But my passion is displayed
When I take out my heart and dissect it
For the very words that bleed out of
My spiritual and emotional core
I can be a creative god as well
And sit upon your intellectual throne
So make way for this writer’s words that form
This little lady’s inner combat zone
Nyx May 2018

Stop for a moment
Look around
Observe, Stay silent
Try not to make a sounds

look at that boy on his phone
Sitting in the back, completely alone
But little do you know he's listening in
He knows all the details and places you've been
If you look closely enough you can see his sly
G R I N
So watch out for him, cause he knows of your S I N S

Look at the Queen bee of the school
****** uptight, she thinks that she rules
Her possy of friends will surely destroy your life
So beware of her, as the barbie dolls B I T E

Look at the students that blend into the back
Their words and stares will cause you to crack
Mindless zombies acting through spite
Controlled by gossip and tragedy delight
So choose wisely who you befriend
Cause otherwise it will surely be your E N D

Look around you, You're surrounded by
liars
Backstabbers, Fuckbois, *****'s galore
But you know what. Its really okay
Because you still have your friends at the end of the day

There are many different people that will still have your back
Some may stay while others will attack
Observe and look out for those around you
And then in return. they will do the same for you

So hold on tight your in for a ride
Its going to be up and down
And sometimes you'll even cry
But I promise you,
You're not going to die

You'll make it through this
Trust me I know
The acts will keep changing
But don't forget

You're the main show.

— The End —