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    the people around me

    By hyrakent on October 6th 2008, late evening.
    on topic Can't keep my mind on anything
    i see roads,i see trees
    i see leaves falling behind
    i see tears and funny bears
    i see crumpled worn-out faces
    by the street of endless fears

    i see feet racing forward
    i see a pair standing still
    i see eyes become suspicious
    i see fake deceitful smiles
    and how they turn all the way around

    its what i got to live with everyday
    the joy and angst of life
    the truth behind reality in every way
    the lonely journey past the strife
    to the far end of the story of my life

    i love watching them
    getting on with their lives
    never ceasing to give chance
    even those who don't deserve
    they're not afraid of love




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    i'm not perfect

    By hyrakent on October 6th 2008, late evening.
    on topic Imperfection
    i...am far
    from being perfect
    from being correct
    in fact i think
    i turned the other cheek
    for like since birth
    and till the day i die

    i think
    right from the start
    i tried so hard
    to be what i wanted
    to escape from my madness
    and pretend i am worth it
    only to make things worse than ever

    i live my life
    like tomorrow's another chance
    to find perfection
    believing it's got to be hiding
    somewhere out of my sight
    maybe up above the shaded sky,
    or within your teary eyes

    you see i'm desperate
    to make this world a better place
    i know it could be
    and it will start from me
    but, i guess i failed
    i couldn't be more than worse
    i'm sorry, im not perfect
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    Bubbles

    By Kailasrose on October 6th 2008, evening time.
    on topic Bubbles
    Little white dancers in a sea of foam
    How shall I continue this poem?

    They pop and they crackle, and you can almost hear...
    You just need to open you ear

    They pop with a crack!
    No wait, they crack with a pop!
    No, I've got it all wrong,
    should we start from the top?

    They're little white dancers in a sea of foam
    But no, that can't be the only sentence of this terrible poem

    They like to fly, maybe cuz they're so light
    And they're almost invisible, so they're out of sight!

    They soapy and sicky and slicky with goo,
    And you squish with your fingers, like you are only two!

    They pop with a crack, is it,
    As they land on the floor,

    And they crack with a pop, I believe,
    As they fly to the door

    They swirl in twinkles,
    Or they tinkle in swirls,
    But either way,
    They're like rainbotic small whirls

    So, wait, have I got it right?
    They're like little white dancers in a sea of white foam,
    And indeed, this may be the start of my sad little poem,

    I've said they make noises,
    And of course they do,

    So what else is there left?
    What else to do?

    Well I belive that they fly,
    Yes indeed, I've mentioned that,
    And have I also told you? No?

    Well that land with a SPLAT!
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    ?

    By RoisinDubh on October 6th 2008, lunch time.
    on topic On my mind
    The mirrors edge doesn't seem to reflect so accurately,
    as it once did,
    the realm of my addiction.

    I barely recognize the scene staring back at me.

    To what end have I forsaken beauty?
    I know not. All I know is that what once was a river is now nothing more than a trickle.

    Despite the flavor I may add,
    this dish is still bland.

    The mirror was broken long ago.

    How have I not noticed?
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    MYstake

    By MissingTheRain on October 5th 2008, late afternoon.
    on topic Mistakes
    Temptation calling my name.
    Curiosity pleading,
    Begging for a taste.
    Conscience screaming fading away
    Leaving me cold,
    Confused,
    Alone.
    Oh, so cold.

    Well there was him...
    The fuel feeding the fire,
    The start of it all.
    The biggest sack of lies
    I had ever seen.
    He who turned me against my parents,
    Against my friends,
    Against myself.
    Good company? No such luck.

    Mutilation of thoughts
    Made me want him.
    Crave him.
    Need him.
    Made me believe I loved him.

    Made
    Me
    Give in.

    One night.
    One measly night.
    One word, "please."
    Maybe four words, "Don't you love me?"
    ...Hesitation...
    Two words, "of course."
    More like, I think.

    Whole lives blew off course..
    How can one dicision have such disasterous affects?
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    love

    By crazypeanut555 on October 4th 2008, lunch time.
    on topic Saying I Love You
    Saying I love you is...well when your as young as me is stupid it's like saying it just to get it over with..you don't really mean it!!
    When your say twenty and you actually fall in Love with someone it's alright,but when your 14 and already making out or worse having sex...it;s stupid!!!
    Nobody falls in LOVE at my age!!!

    Don't even try to say i'm wrong because i'm not.!!!!!


    Not even a little bit!!!!!!!!@!!!!!!!
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    Monday Morning Dreaming

    By ambercruise on October 4th 2008, terribly early in the morning.
    on topic Winter
    Outside my winter window
    the snow clouds touch the breeze.
    With a sound you barely fathom.
    You can hear it if you please.

    Shutters shake and rattle as the
    wind stirs through the leaves
    My flannel reds and feather bed
    rest my head with ease.

    In a minute I'll get up well maybe
    nine or ten.I wonder why the covers
    feel suddenly so thin. Could be a storm
    or bee's that swarm stirring up the wind?

    Pull those blankets way up tight
    I'm thinking with a grin.This day's
    just right to stay abed and keep my
    sweetheart in.

    Whats that noise? It sounds like tin.
    Thats my good ear it's clanging in.
    Turn it off unplug it to and stuff it in
    a drawer.

    I my go to work today if I can find
    the door. My flannel reds and feather
    bed to monday morning dream again.

    When I wake up I'll take a nap and then
    I will turn in.With my sweetheart hugged
    up close we'll do this day up right.
    Monday morning dreaming right on through
    the night
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    Come, come to me

    By Robin Greene on October 2nd 2008, lunch time.
    on topic Hidden Whispers In The Dark
    Hidden whispers in the dark
    Saying I want you
    Fear of not seeing in the dark
    Creatures make there way through
    Life they want to take, every breath away
    Spirits wanting your soul
    Whipering 'Come, come to me'
    But don't go...stay
    Or you'll not see the light of day.
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    Hidden Whispers in the Dark - part 2

    By saddie23 on September 28th 2008, mid-morning.
    on topic Hidden Whispers In The Dark
    She cannot believe this man is her father, but she contains some composure as she gets enough bearing
    to ask "Dad, why?" As time slips by they have their little talk and the whispers seem louder in her head, and now she has a matter of seconds to talk before he hurts her. Enthia ask for a wet rag to stop the bleeding now. This man she knew so well, that came racing from work and had high regards feels less of a lie. He took her one day to the fair and rode the rollercoaster, now she can't believe this man could ever hurt a fly. But the talks kept coming and all she tried to find ways to escape. Enthia's breath felt shallow from lack of drink. Bearing in mind, she would have to convince him to get help. Her thought came rushing in as time's hand kept moving. Now she knew him very well. That day he a quarrel with his father. It escalate more than he managed. He murder his father that afternoon. The rage swell so deep in his loins. He became enraged with fury. She was the first person he saw that day and the fury leashed a hell in blood. Time escalated even more now she knew this man as her father.
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    whatever it may be

    By thunderstorm on September 17th 2008, evening time.
    on topic Addiction
    the persistant presance in your mind
    the lingering taste on your tounge
    the familiar feeling on your limbs
    the stains a reminder on your clothes
    insanity sinking in
    you search out to find that one thing
    the one thing that will never leave you alone
    it will always be calling, daring you to risk comming back
    it will taunt you with its ever present memory

    all types of addiction, actions, words, or substances
    neither are escapable by easy means.

    if you dont escape it, it will consume and destroy you.
    you decide the way you live, or die...
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