Poems i've written.

I was flicking through my diary and found some poems that I still really like so I wanted to share them :). Most of these are old though I sadly haven't had inspiration for any poems lately :(.

Imposter:

Chipped nail polish with no time to paint it back. Keep working and working even when you start to crack. Mascara and earrings to distract you from when your ears ring. The jingle of bracelets remind you that you're here. In a class you have to pass to make your dream life come true, and there's no time to ever stop because it won't just come to you. You have to be at the top, your top perfect and pristine white. Write with smart words and don't fall into any herds, following and following there is no time for wallowing, people look up to you even when you're falling. 

I am quiet, I am loud, I am a contradiction. I am real but i conceal, I don't let anybody in even though by doing that it makes nobody win. I confuse myself so I try many ways of keeping my mind off it. I think the director of my life is in for quite a profit with drama, deception, back-stabbing, and lies with the worst of it is it never stops until I die. They say I'm smart and they say I'm pretty but I'm pretty sure it's just the hello kitty. It's confirmed to me by the fact that the only guys to like me have taken pity or consensually touched someone's titty.

Forgetting:

You ask me about my fears, my deepest, darkest one. It's not like others, losing a family member, the dark, flying, dying. Mine is the slow decay of memories, dementia. Slowly forgetting everybody you've ever loved, ever known, ever hated. Forgetting that one dream you still somehow remember from childhood. Forgetting is the death of the mind. Forgetting is the death of self. You will die after you've forgotten you were ever alive at all. It will take everything until you have only a fleeting remembrance of life for the last time; but by then you won't even be able to recognize the importance of remembering. You will no longer be a person. You will know this until you don't.

Pretty:

You guess that I am pretty. You don't even know what i look like even though my image of you is clear in my mind. I know now that you don't like me, you will never love me. You only guess I'm pretty because you would never be able to say the truth to my face. I am forgettable. People only need things from me, otherwise, I slip their mind. were friends but its only because I force you to be. I wonder how you would feel if I died. I think the worst answer would be indifferent. I know that I am unremarkable in every way, but I guess I was stupid to think I wasn't to you at least. You don't want to hang out with me because it would be too much. At least when I am on the phone you can lie straight to me, and I'll never even see the distaste on your face. We are not friends and I'm sorry for thinking we could be anything more. I see clearly now because you only guess someone's pretty if you've made up their mind that they're not.

Don't forget what we are:

Am I what I like? What is me and what is who I'm made to be? My mind is told who subliminally with adverts on minimality. How am I one if my brain is split into fractions. Sometimes I'm so sure, but eventually I forget. I forget how to function, a mal-function, a misprint, a memory-wipe error. My soul doesn't look how I'm perceived. Do I grief my old self or do they just get put away, a display on a shelf. There is code to me that makes me a copy of a copy of a copy. Hyper individuality is a plague to promote self-destruction disguised as expression. We want connection, plug us in. Were too different to ever find someone who understands. We are cattle, we are dogs, we trust even though we are beaten and robbed. Watched forever, we breath ones and we exhale zeros, they are the heroes of revolution. We mustn't walk, we don't have to move, sit. Don't bother reading, who will dig deeper into the heart of the words when the meaning is not clear? Written, dated, and signed right there. Kindergarten prepares you for school to prepare you for employment to make sure you're well done to serve. Imaturity of today is the result of the time spent online rather then thinking and exploring. Why is curiosity killed the cat so popular when the fact that satisfaction brought it back is censored. We turn off our minds for convenience, convenience. We don't progress for safety, not for people, for lives. We progress to make thing easier but what if in this we lose meaning in simplicity. People search for meaning but the meaning is survival and that has been granted. We forget ourselves. Where is our place? Where are the animals?

Saccharine:

I don't think that's very fair. My sanctuary poisoned by the selfish hands of another, Suffocating me with fear. Grace has run out, but it shall never be expected. Mercy is a gift, and the universe has taken pity on my soul, but for the last time am I granted it. Saccharine words are exchanged to one another, and I have to bear witness to the seed I have sown but it was forcibly so. How will life go on now that the blissful ignorant glass over my eyes has now shattered to an unfixable degree. There are many wounds that run as deep as the earth's core. There are many wounds that are as big as the universe. The wounds are so big they are invisible, but there. There are many wounds and mercy is not expected.