The weather is making it easy to make an insult and pun of her name. The hail reminds me of how she is.
She is the solid-to-liquid-to-gas the fights going down the same way every time. Her heart is not frozen it is the stale soft drink that lost its taste.
Its been some time since she evaporated into the air and I'm still sure she's the lead still in Flint, Michigan's tap water.
He is making her dance with puppet strings in his hand. Threatening to post pictures of her but he doesn't know that his hands are in the background holding her by the neck.
His name iz back inside my head after I never thought I'd see it again. It is dawn now.
For all the people who knew him it was all just an act. A mask over what that fucker really is. A paper bag can't hide his face when you can rip it right off.
Cars getting in the way of the train I am riding getting crushed along with everything else in its way. Do not stand in front of the train I will not see you with these hazy eyes or try to make myself believe I won't to keep the guilt out of my head.
The outcome of where I end up is predetermined already set before the train even started its engine. There is no signs of stopping only picking up more speed.
No one else is in the train but me. Bringing myself down with the weight of a train. Driving off a cliff, I was driving to die. Self-destruction.
This is how my poetry is without being edited and I have other things to do so I'm just posting it raw straight after I write it. xD. I think my quality might be better when I get better ideas or if I edit it. Thanks for keeping up with my threads and shtuff.
Napo is a little like NaNo in that no one expects you to edit! There will be a workshop next week about editing your poetry if you want to join. But truthfully, I don't edit any of my poems before I post them. It's just what happens, and I love that!
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
I want to say that she is toxic and she is a terrible person, but I won't. I'd be lying.
We were both caged birds that got out now looking at the cage we were trapped in not knowing what to do now that we're free.
I kind of want back inside of that cage. It kept me under the illusion I was happy but now, I don't know what to feel.
And this may not seem like poetry the way I talk bare bone without description but I'm just telling it as it is. This is not poetry this is a desperate cry for help.
They tell me my love life is interesting But it’s really the same cycle over and over again: Meet girl, flirt, get heart broken.
A six second loop of a bad pick-up line Maybe i should find a different approach But my old ways work and I don’t trust anything new. Those darn virtual realities, don’t trust ‘em.
I don’t want to have to superglue myself to a girl that hates me I just want to Find someone nice.
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