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Literature Text
You know what it's like,
When your feet touch the bottom.
You wish you were like others,
But you know that you can never be.
The glam and the glitz,
The sound of a thousand people cheering you on.
That's not for you,
That's never going to be for you!
But you know what,
You've got something else inside of you.
You've got something else,
That no one who sits on a lofty throne could ever have.
And that's pain...
You're in pain, because you know this is bitter.
You're in pain, because you've been denied something better.
But you take that dose of bitterness
And you swallow it like it's god-damn medicine!
Because the king expects you the crumble,
The king expects you to lie down and surrender.
So play dead if you have to,
But when you rise again...
Make sure you tear out their god-damn throat!
Literature
Awareness.
She writes such lovely poems
But nobody really cares
She hides them all the time
To avoid the judging stares
She wrote one yesterday
About a boy who said he loved her
But to her own dismay
She caught him with another
She wrote one about school
And the words painted on her locker
“No one likes you, stupid bitch.
You’re lucky I’m at soccer.”
She wrote about her parents
And how she wished they were together
But she knows that won’t ever happen
And forgetting’s probably better
Yes, she writes such lovely poems
But there’s so much more to this
See, her pencil is a razor
And the paper is her wrist.
Literature
To be a writer
You taste like decaying leaves
and October's bad habits-
when it’s halfway through February
that still haunts these bones.
I have allowed you to
claw your love
into my arms
and chant into my
uninterested ears
for much too long.
I wish I was one of those girls
who could say wild flowers
grow up through my nooks
and my crannies just to tear
through my skin, screaming.
I’m just that dead eyed deer
on the side of the road dreaming
of shoving a pen down my throat
and writing these verses inside out.
I am no scribe, prophet, or spell caster.
I know it.
My skin knows it.
My pen knows it too.
Years and years
from now
my mind will d
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
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Here's the start of my creative rush, expect more soon!
It's been awhile, I've decided to start a creative rush (since my recording equipment is still out of commission).
In the mean-time, why not follow me on facebook :3 I'll entertain you when I can o3o
Facebook: www.facebook.com/WordOfChen
-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates
It's been awhile, I've decided to start a creative rush (since my recording equipment is still out of commission).
In the mean-time, why not follow me on facebook :3 I'll entertain you when I can o3o
Facebook: www.facebook.com/WordOfChen
-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates
© 2013 - 2024 WordOfChen
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'their' would refer to a group of people...but you wrote 'throat'. :/ English is so complicated...is that possible???