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Tired.I, am tired.Tired of feeling.Tired of all the hard work of healing.Tired of failing.Tired of falling.Tired.I am tired of things,People, and notions.Tired of people,And tired of their motions.Tired of their talkTired of their commotion.Tired of everythingInside and outTired of hatingToo tired to poutI just wish,Wish I could live,Live underwaterSome place to forgiveSome place to wishAnd wish I shall doWish to not be tiredOh, please wish,Come true.
Passing Me ByYou are young, they sayDon't hurry, don't cryBut it feels like the world isPassing me byHappy for othersOn their big days, I tryNot to feel like the world isPassing me byI laugh and I smileAs I wave them goodbyeStill feels like the world isPassing me byMy heart is confusedI always ask whyWhy it feels like the world isPassing me by...Never a bridesmaidNever a brideFeels like the world isPassing me by
Fictional CharactersFictional characters are who we meet,as we read the pages of a book.We fall in love with them,For their traits, and lives, despite not even knowing how they look.Chivalrous, courageous, villainous and vile,We each pick and choose who we like.For these characters are more than you think,when a reader invites them into their life.Time and again, we’re told it’s fake,That the stories, and tales don’t exists.That the characters we love who fight monsters and dragons,vanish when the story ends.I know it sounds crazy, to say that for me,A fictional character is real.That I see him as more, than a page in a bookhe’s something that I can touch and feel.For many who read, create their own worlds,because reality is just too much to take.When life gets confusing, stressful or tragicwe feel like we just want to break.There’s no one to comfort us, not even our friends,nor family, can understand what’s inside.Because in actuality, though it
Momma Said 'Stop Being Gay'Momma said "stop being gay,"As night, to morning, faded;Its beauty was not made to stay,But hoary grew, and jaded.I watched as day, with fractured light,My every fear, rekindled,And passion fell away to plight,And hope but further dwindled.Momma said "stop being gay,"With hatred, and distress:My tender love where sin held sway..."Impure, and meaningless."Within my heart and soul, I lived,For all else had bereft me,And nothing more could be perceivedThan how her words had left me.Momma said "stop being gay."For years, I never fought her,But silently, and hopeless, lay,The Lord's forgotten daughter.I've sacrificed a waking dream:My truest love, to meritA heaven, and, in death, to seemNot evil, but imperfect.-Sophie J
Last Thoughts (sonnet)I am caught again thinking about youI find no solace or peace in these thoughtsIt replays in my head, like déjà vu.Thinking about that day gives me stomach knotsI remember that day and your long fallYou reached out for me; if just for a bit.So much pain and blood; I witnessed it allI tried so hard, but I couldn't stop itThe day your life ended so did minePeople say to move on; I'll surviveAnd I must now say it's not all fineJust one more miracle; please, be aliveI was so alone, but now I must partFrom the man with a great mind and great heart
Ghosts of Youghosts of you are everywhere;remInding me, alwayS There.i dIdn't mean to say goodbye;was just afraid to ask you why:why you bLushed and why you sighed;we didn't rushthat's why we died.the gLow faded, our Love fought;i wish i'd knOwn what you thought.i neVer knEw what You wanted;nOw i'm stuck with being haUnted.
Your StoryI'd much rather cry for you'Cause my story is too painful to shareI'd much rather smile for you'Cause my story is too painful to bearSo come here and I'll wrap my arms around youCome here and I'll let your story shineBut after you share your storyPlease don't ask me about mineIf only I could play the violinI'd share my past through sorrowful chordsVibrato on strings would be my voiceFighting my demons with imaginary swordsAlthough I'm limited to words on paperAnd the words aren't sung by a beautiful voiceThese words make my story into a songAnd this song confronts you with a choiceYou can close your eyesAnd pretend this is a fairytalePretend it's a meaningless storyThat was never once trueOr you can open your eyesAnd realise deep downThat the story isn't just about meThat you're the main character tooIf you don't want to tell your storyAs it is, spoken word to wordTurn your art into your voiceAnd you will always be heardA picture speaks a thousand wordsAnd