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I’ve always been told,
Good stories have a beginning, middle and end,
Not necessarily in that order.

Chapter 1:

Every time I use to talk to you,
My speech sounded more
Like Morse code.
See, ‘cause small talk to me,
Is the civilian equivalent
Of trying to diffuse a bomb.

THERE IS AN UNDERWIRE…
I REPEAT
THERE IS AN UNDERWIRE!


Chapter 2:

I wrote you letters
You never read.
I think I’m wasting my time.

Chapter 3:

I’m trying to relight old matches,
As if it will rekindle flames
That have vanished long ago,
Or make a house
Rise from the ashes.

Chapter 4:

I built you a house,
Made out of our memories.
I hope it can shelter you
From pain.

Chapter 5:

In my dream, your silhouette
Tried to engulf me.

I managed to escape,
But I wish it had.

Chapter 6:

I burned the house down,
Sorry.

Chapter 7:

You’re a 6 year old girl
From China
I’m a 3rd generations Asian-Canadian
Looking for a place I belong.

I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.

Chapter 8:

I managed to tell you I’m awkward.
I’m way too comfortable in my own skin
To ever try to conquer yours.

And every time you get too close,
My body turns red,
As if it was trying to ignite a fire
To get you to run away.

Chapter 9:

I’m a 90 year old
Who’s recovering
From kidney failure.

You’ve long since exited
My life, I hope you’re fine.

Chapter 10:

We’re lighting candles together
In The basement.

Chapter x:

Now our story is at
Some variable of a number,
I’ve always been told,
Good stories have a beginning, middle and end,
Not necessarily in that order.

And Maybe,this is the part of the story
Where I start over again.

Chapter 0:
Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

Felt nostalgic yesterday, so I wrote about an outdated topic.

Inspired by Phil Kaye's poem of the same name. Check it out here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvNWzk…
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Links:

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Bandcamp: dylanseto.bandcamp.com/
SoundCloud: soundcloud.com/dylanseto
Deviantart: xxdraxx.deviantart.com/
Youtube: www.youtube.com/channel/UCuQA8…
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It jars me
from the fitful terror
of mine own heart
of my hardened soul
as my body moves 
without either's permission 
or allowance,
I let the melody's quake
keep me awake 
though sleep still calls to me
in loving lyrics
I can't let myself believe
else the music may leave me
to dreadful whispers of silence,
I lose myself 
amongst the veins
of dulcet flow 
and elastic beats of rhythm
mimicking what I once hoped 
was a living heart.
Cloaked in another body
of mellifluous hatred and love
I try to conquer my soul
my husk acting the motions
of its siege 
a twirl
a fall
a rise
a silent cry
with a hand reaching
for a sun seen only 
by listening eyes.
I move and listen with my being
offer everything else away,
so the silent cacophony
and succulent whispers of sleep
will leave me.
STILL NEED SUPPORT ON WATTPAD HERE:www.wattpad.com/user/CrumbledW…

Couldn't think of a good name. If you hadn't guessed its a poem about dancing, however since dancing is something you feel , i couldn't think of a sufficient way to portray something as purely emotional as dance soooo I wrote imaginative heartfelt gibberish (joke there is actually meaning in this piece)...
Hope everyone enjoys 
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I want to stomp you down
like the spiders crawling
on the bathroom floor
at two am:

desperate and panicked
in the dark,
tired and eager
to finish you
and leave you to twitch
on glistening tiles.

heart-eater,
gristle between your teeth,
you have cracked open
one too many torsos.

your ax-chopped halves
all ooze red longing
for you and your lips,
your warm arms,
but I know your touch
is really a sting
help meeeee my entire family is in a uproar and they're all arguing and i knew this was going to happen so i've been hiding in my room writing poetry for the past three hours and they've been yelling and i'm so nervous i feel like i'm going to have a heart attack.

living in my house is sort of like living on the ocean: calm seas, and then storms and shipwrecks.

i don't handle confrontation of any kind well and i'm not dealing with any of this 

© 2014 littleblueraccoon
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The earth cries,
Its roars of weeping billow across the sky with deafening volume.
The clouds groan under the weight of their own tears,
The ground is flooded with their sadness.
All over the world, people mourn.
His family and friends, his fans...
Parents, grandparents, and children alike.
We have lost a role-model, a childhood...
All mourn for the loss of a legend..
A hero to many.
One who has bestowed so much happiness,
So much laughter and encouragement,
While he himself battled a war within his being.
How could this be? We ask ourselves.
How could someone so great
Fall to such depths?
How?
Why?
But as these inquiries burn in our minds,
There is something greater to cling to within our hearts...

The mark he has left on the world.

I.....I can't even begin to wrap my mind around the fact that he's really gone. And by suicide, no less...

All day yesterday and today it's been raining in my area... Suits the situation, I guess... :tears:


:heart: RIP, Robin. You will never be forgotten :heart:

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i was a lake whipped
into a fever pitch, a localised
hurricane in the wake of something
greater. the world was ending
and i dreamt of you while it was
still turning, a mess of bodies and
kisses. i dreamt of you still
when it ended, a slow dance
of crooked smiles and offshore
eyes. you kept me close and if
i was ever a source of happiness
or preoccupation
or horror
for you, i could let go.
oh god, how do i deal with those things again?

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You taught me
the meaning of the word
"dream".
When I was a child
you were my favourite one, 
your movies made
me dream about
a better future,
about who I would become
when adult. 
Your characters were full
of hope and joy. 
You were my hero.
You will be forever in my heart!
Oh captain my captain,
thanks for making me happy
when I was a child,
and thanks for making me happy
everytime I watch your movies.
Sorry if this poem and my english
suck, but it's the best I can do
while I'm about to cry...
One day we'll see in another 
world, but until that moment comes...
..thank you Robin, thank you!
Robin Williams, one of my favourite actors, is dead....I'm so sad....He was my hero when I was a child!!!!! You'll be in my heart forever!!!! Thanks for all the smiles you gave me...I'm sure you'll be able to make God laugh so much.....
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Antisocial?
Learn respect.

Anxiety?
Chill out.

Anorexic?
For God's sake, eat!

Avoidant?
Deal with it.

Bipolar?
Find a balance and stick with it.

Bulimic?
There are people dying for that food you waste.

Borderline?
Control yourself, woman!

Dependent?
Stop being so clingy!

Depressed?
Cheer up!

Histrionic?
Do you always have to have the spotlight?

Multiple Personalities?
Yeah right, attention whore.

Narcissistic?
It's not all about you!

Obsessive-Compulsive?
It's not that bad.

Paranoid?
Not everyone is out to get you.

PTSD?
You're just weak.

Schizoid?
You're a cold one, aren't ya?

Schizotypal?
Why you gotta be so weird all the time?

Schizophrenic?
Get a grip on reality.

Self-injurer?
There are better ways to get attention.

Suicidal?
Why don't you just kill yourself already?

If you have said any of these things,
To any of these people,
Get a fucking perspective.
If you're going to tell me I'm being mean to these people, I'm going to tell you, you didn't read the ending.

I know a lot of people who are mentally ill, and this poem is for you.

EDIT:

Thank you guys for all the attention. This is amazing.

Edit 2:

I fixed all the spelling errors in this poem.
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Schizoid Avoidance

Abandon, reject and hate me
ĎCause thatís all Iíve learned to expect
Oppressive social surrealism taunts
Leaving me dissociated and defect

Solitude and musing entice
Thus I walk earthís face loner-wise
Ecstatic pondering analyzing my mind
Introspective truths to find

Fear forcing me to escape
Guilt and shame raging inside
Craving companionship and intimacy
Yet too paranoid to confide

Keeping my precious poker-face
Because an apathetic appearance grants inner pride and grace
People call me a statue with an icy stare
Yet I snort and smirk; I simply donít care

For their ignorance...
Hypocrisy: schizoidness and avoidantness intwined. Hope it's any good...
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I am odd
Socially distorted
A misunderstood individual
Discretely and secretly unstable
I am a schizoid
And i will always be isolated
Alone
Because i am unfit for friendship
Unfit for any relationship
I am a prisoner of my own personality
Chained forever
Bound by it
To watch the socially adequate
As they frolic and talk among themselves
I am abnormal
Therefore must pay the price

  
Another poem, it's true. Anyway enjoy. Any negative comments will be marked as spam and the person who made it will be blocked.
:icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz:
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I took your adjectives for granted. There was something about the way you skipped over your 's'es and gleaned over your 'i's and 'e's, that never really made me want to kiss you. You'd sit there with your languid fingers clutching a book that was half finished, and read me words that were completely mispronounced. It would prickle me under my skin and I would grit my teeth, wondering when you would stop. I would never understand the english language you thought you spoke, and your confidence in your own words annoyed me.

It was comical when you spoke in front of our friends. Your mistaken pronunciation of the word 'pronunciation' in particular made them giggle. I would stand in a corner, clutching a glass of rum and coke and cringe, flushing in second hand embarrassment. You would smile at me from across the room, and continue with your tangled tongue as though nothing was wrong.

I felt sorry for you. But not sorry enough when you took your favourite writing pen from my desk, your dog eared thesaurus and left my apartment for the last time. I would lie if I said I wasn't relieved for the respite from mistaken english and broken words.

It took them screaming at each other next door, the rejection letter arriving, my finger joints beginning to ache for me to realise; I missed your easy enunciation of the word 'beautiful', the crescendo in 'adoration' and yes, even the fluidity in 'talented'. The way your fingers curved at the typewriter, now made me misunderstand my own at the keyboard of a computer.*

I called you today, and you told me she is an English Major, and she loves you most when you argue with your vowels.

You always did speak a language I would never be wise enough to understand.



*I wish most I had remembered the perfect D shape your arm made, when I rested my head on it.
Sometimes people take something for granted, hate it and then figure that was the thing they love most after all.

www.facebook.com/pages/Untamed… - general facebookery
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