discussionDo you ever thinkdiscussion9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
life is just
until you don't?
My friend once told me
that everything you do in life
simply leads up to your death.
Which, I suppose,
but I like to think of it
as living and living
until death stops you
from living anymore.
"Why do anything in life,"
"if you're going to die anyway?"
I thought for a moment,
and then replied,
"Why do people send roses
to their loved ones
if the flowers just die?
Maybe everything is
Maybe we should stop
looking for forever,
because we're never going
to find it.
You don't get a prize
It would be in your best interests
to live right now,
don't you think?"
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stopPretty metaphors are for pretty girls8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Atelophobia AtelophobiaAtelophobia10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
The word sticks to my tongue like cotton candy
The sweet, fluffy combination of letters
struggling to embody a correct connotation
And even the dictionary definition seems sugarcoated:
"Fear of imperfection."
Is that what they say when I'm up until 3am,
editing my English paper for the umpteenth time
The tick-tock tick-tock of the clock
promptly proliferating the room
And I just sit there changing good to great,
and peaceful to quiescent,
hoping that my teacher will be drunk in his bungalow
while he grades my chicken-scratch calligraphy
And he’ll see stars instead of how horrid it is
Or is that the word they use,
when I struggle to consume a 25-calorie chunk of chocolate
because I just know it will go straight to my hips,
or when I step on the scale
and watch the black dashes zoom by
like a carousel spinning,
And as the twirling and whirling makes me sick,
I know throwing up still won’t make me thin
And is that the term they mutter
when I'm sob