Onesided

Ah yes, more angsty, unrequited love-esque poetry. Please don't hit me T_T Anyway, enjoy another rant based poem.

Onesided

Unrequited, such a depressing word

An un anything already sounds so absurd

And have you heard?

That life for a heart is unfair

The only single organ in a body of organs in pair?

It’s almost too much to bear

Looking for that other half of me

That other piece in someone else’s chest cavity

A tragedy, a travesty

Looking, longing, and loving in vain

There aren’t enough veins in my body to support all my pain

Ain’t it a shame?

Even if I’m not the best, I’m still worth a person

Y’know, if a person was worth something for certain

I’m uncertain, unsure, and unsettled

I guess you could say I’m restless and rattled

Falling to pieces and parts astray

I won’t die today

But I won’t live either

I will fight, but I still need a breather

And while my bones might break

And while my heart may ache

I still have a body...

I’m still a somebody

And I will take shit from nobody

The Want

Don't write and expect to sound like Shakespeare (Not iambic pentameter, just douchey-sounding... you know what I mean)... if by chance you do, you probably screwed up and sound like a pretentious douche... anyway, here's to writing about dudes you're jealous of. (Also douches)

The Want

He hovers over her like a guardian, protective...

Possessive

But I know he's a poison, a death masquerading

as honey

I do not hate him, only what he does

And how he does, how he claims hearts with a

lackadaisical, carefree nonchalance

How he crushes hearts, how he claims them like toys,

excitement and negligence in moments of each other

How it pains me to be reminded, to be blinded...

To remember that he once held something...

Something fragile... precious

It was not mine then nor is it now,

But how I desired it and how I desire it

How I covet that which is by no rights mine to do so

Why I covet it... I do not know

He still holds it, holds hers

Hers and so many others... and why?

I do not know

For he does not want it,

Not hers, not another's

He wants to want and that is all he wants

In that wanting, there is some sort of depraved pleasure

Pleasure that only he can know and can never show

Thus I cannot hate him, but how I hate him

Choice

Did you know that if you read poetry really emotionally in front of a whole bunch of high schoolers, including the person you were writing about... you might get some looks in the hallways and occasionally recognition by folks who were forced by their english teachers to listen to you? It's nice and all, but I always wonder if that person realized I was writing about them... if they cared or not.

Choice

Not a chance, not for anyone, not even you

Wait a second, I have something to-

Nope, not gonna say it

It’s not worth it

And no one’s gonna give a --- Hold it!

Why does it hurt so much?

Why do I wish for your touch?

To hear your voice

And to have a choice

Stop feeling as I do

Or prove my love to you

Isn’t that what anyone else can choose?

To try to win or give up and lose?

Instead it’s like lighting a fuse

Work up the flame and watch it suffuse

Boom, my dream to ash

Did you see it crash?

Do you remember how you smashed

And cut and ripped and tore

And broke and kicked my core?

How no matter what I do

No matter what I go through

There was never a way to win

They said that slavery was sin

That it was folly to work when you cannot move past

These stigmatized labels, these chains that last

And how fast?

How quick does my heart crumble

When you cause a rumble in my chest

How deadly is this test?

And, seriously, why am I the only one taking it?

Are you done breaking it?

My heart must be damaged beyond repair

And still I care

Still I hope

That you can see beyond the scope

Of these prejudiced and hopeless thoughts

The tragic end you predict without any shots

Or a single shot

I’m asking for a single chance, not a lot

And even that much you claim you cannot afford

You’ve paid your dues in heartbreaks, your faith cannot be restored

So there’s no reward

No prize for trying

Or winning

Or dying

There was never one to begin with I suppose

And God knows, why I bothered to think I can or I could

Or why I should

I’ve never been quick to the draw

My fire is not hot enough to thaw

This ice encased broken heart you hold

Oh how cold

And unfeeling

Maybe I got close, but you sent me reeling

I had not the intention to steal

Only to feel

To hold and cherish

Will my dream perish?

Or has it died in the womb

Conceived into a tomb

Because there was never any love to nourish

Or any feelings to flourish

I am but a wishful thinker

Hook line and sinker

...Pipe dream drinker

I sip the last drop of my poison of choice

The only choice I’ve ever had, only will to ever voice

To Live?

One more bipolar and confusing poem that will be analyzed over the ages as either a masterpiece that delves into the most abstract concepts... or probably just a piece of trash a high schooler wrote. Read on folks ;P

To Live?

Don’t drop your guard

Not for a second, I mean it

I swear, without a doubt…

You will fall in love

You will find happiness

And… you will learn to hate

See that wall?

The one that’s been standing tall since the day you were born

The one that all have learned to scorn

But none of whom have torn

That wall keeps you safe

You may never see the sky

But it’s better than learning what it means to die

A cage doesn’t hold you in

It holds everything else out

Out on the battlefield,

It’s your shield…

Without it, you will surely be pierced

By arrows of heartbreaks

A lance of heartaches

Cleaved by the sword of mistakes

Remember, in here you are covered

Concealed and undiscovered

It came with a price,

But your life is more than nice

You see some others go out and come back changed

Watch how deranged

How estranged they become

They don’t even know what it means to be safe anymore

Out there is a war

And neither side is winning

...But let me tell you something

It’s a secret... about out there

You won’t hear this anywhere

I swear, tell no one

They’d burn you at the stake

There will be no break

No chances to take

For fear that you will upset their perfect society

Of iniquity

Of brutality

Of false reality

How dare you open their eyes

How dare you realize

That this isn’t living

That a cage blinds just as much as it binds

Listen to this thought

Drink it like the finest of wines

For you will never drink from choice again

You can live with the pain

And watch it stain

You will be marked like a blank canvas

They will not stand this

You will be an outsider

Societal divider

Disruptor and denier

Traitor and vindicator

You will be enemy of the state

They will want your head on a plate

Not for your crimes

But for all the times

That they told you couldn’t

That you shouldn’t

And then you went and did it

You proved them wrong

Proved you’re strong

You’re everything they said you wouldn’t be

Happier than they’ll ever be

Not the expected casualty

But something else entirely

A survivor

There’s a distinction

Between existing

And living

Do I Fit?

Ah, the angsty, soul-searching, self confused, and typical high school misfit poem. Please enjoy my adolescent awkwardness.

Do I Fit?

I look fondly upon our society that embraces individuality

How we love to be recognized as weird, strange, and uncommon...

But I think for a moment, amid all the incongruity and difference

There is similarity, common ground

But where I am found there is none

In a school that is visually represented by a mix of interlinking clicks

Where do I fit? And do I fit?

A misfit among misfits

Even in the places where I find myself closest

I'm still so far away...

Still alone anyway

Not a soul today that mixes in so closely with mine

And so I feel most defined

Most obvious and yet least noticed

The Blackest dot on a gray page

As I've aged, no change

Still just a specter floating between spaces

Seeing faces

But still recognized by none

And while you might poke fun

At this ideal that I may think myself to be alone

Can at least see what's been shown

To whom am I most known?

Has anyone ever known me at all?

Am I even something to be known?

Or am I so empty that there is nothing to know?