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Literature Text
I'm not a poet
I'm hardly even a word-er
But I'm a master pretender.
I've been a lesbian.
Let it sink in.
I've been a prostitute and a smoker and a drug dealer.
The biggest revealer.
I've even been a boy, in once upon a times.
I have been young, I have been old,
I have been dead, my stories told.
I have been a witch, a vampire, a werewolf, all in one.
A mermaid, and a damsel, and a dragon, but I'm not done.
I've gone on spacewalks, and cave explorations.
I've been to Ireland, the moon, and distant galaxies.
I've seen love, hate, car crashes, and bombs
And I have given birth to an evil son.
I have been all these people, and no one.
But I have never been myself
I'm hardly even a word-er
But I'm a master pretender.
I've been a lesbian.
Let it sink in.
I've been a prostitute and a smoker and a drug dealer.
The biggest revealer.
I've even been a boy, in once upon a times.
I have been young, I have been old,
I have been dead, my stories told.
I have been a witch, a vampire, a werewolf, all in one.
A mermaid, and a damsel, and a dragon, but I'm not done.
I've gone on spacewalks, and cave explorations.
I've been to Ireland, the moon, and distant galaxies.
I've seen love, hate, car crashes, and bombs
And I have given birth to an evil son.
I have been all these people, and no one.
But I have never been myself
Literature
to icarus
in the next life you were a phoenix
a fiery resurrection
songbird of ash & second chances
when you flew south for the winter,
you made it every time
see for you, the universe was an olympic mountain
jutting out of the ocean, a temple you would never set foot in
an elaborate maze you'd been lost in for too long;
the only love you'd ever known was from the coalfire
of your father's hands in the dark, they were the most angelic
monsters, they were beacons
his mind was the gears of a clock that never stopped spinning
but the light,
the light was a promise to be seen
the fire, a dancing enchanter that never leaves
the future was an echo on t
Literature
People Living in Tunnels Under Las Vegas
The newspaper headlines told me so.
As I was reading the article in my bed,
eating a handful of Oreos, I thought
about being wet.
Not the kind of wet (slipperyslidyfuntimes)
you want to be,
but the kind of wet you feel in your bones.
Wet like the time my grandfather left me and my sister
watching his tackle box by the side of the road
in Toronto in six inches of slush that
was slowly seeping into my socks,
while he bought cigarettes from the man
in the oversized poncho at the gas station.
And there are cities full of dreams
and cities full of dirt,
but Las Vegas is neither of those.
It’s a city instead with no name or face,
nothing re
Literature
Passing Ships
It was just like you to show up late. Honestly, it was just like you. It was the hottest day of the year so far and every green space was full of people trying to get their fix. Daylight junkies. When you live beneath grey clouds for most of your life it starts to take its toll and you take your highs where you can get them.
I was a bundle of nerves, as I always was when it came to you, picking at grass and trying to pretend that the fact you were late was totally cool. Instinct told me differently and I knew as soon as you graced me with your presence that things had changed. It was written all over your face - guilt, guilt, guilt - but I w
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Cami wrote a poem, see?
It's about things, right?
Do you get it?
(And psh, would you notice my awesome rhyming scheme? I'm a genius.)
It's about things, right?
Do you get it?
(And psh, would you notice my awesome rhyming scheme? I'm a genius.)
© 2013 - 2024 mycrimsonheart
Comments2
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That is an awesome rhyming scheme.
The poem has a really good flow, I like the subject matter and I am rather fond of your concluding line.
The poem has a really good flow, I like the subject matter and I am rather fond of your concluding line.