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Best Poems Written by Brianna Orendorf

Below are the all-time best Brianna Orendorf poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Boys Will Be Boys

The pain will never go away, it just stays.
Everyday he tried to keep his head held high,
but everything would change in just ten days.

They said boys will be boys, it’s just a phase,
but again they were wrong, just one more lie.
The pain will never go away, it just stays

Each year, each month, each day was just a haze,
and all he wanted was to say goodbye,
but everything would change in just ten days.

The words, the pain, were just a repeated phrase,
He was their target, a special bull’s eye.
The pain will never go away, it just stays. 

School was pointless, just another maze.
One without escape, no matter how he try,
but everything would change in just ten days.

He made up his mind, and got no delays.
His last words: they were just simple goodbyes. 
The pain will never go away, it just stays,
but everything did change, in just ten days.

Copyright © Brianna Orendorf | Year Posted 2015



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Farewell

It is tearing me apart, bit by bit,
the words; horrendous words they care to yell.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Pushing, shoving, is there and end to it?
Again I am trapped; locked in an endless hell.
It is tearing me apart, bit by bit.

The staring, the whispers, it's a good fit,
for the victim who is afraid to tell.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Another name, another bruise, one more slit,
will dying break me from this hurtful spell?
It is tearing me apart, bit by bit.

Why me? They won't stop so shall I just quit?
Pain, it's not worth it, sorry but farewell.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Tears roll down as my life ends with a slit,
finally escaping this endless hell.
Finally, it tore me apart, bit by bit.
School... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Copyright © Brianna Orendorf | Year Posted 2014

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Prejudice Kills

Red and blue colors, a dangerous light.
Trembling voice, upset stomach, shaking hands.
Death; common for black, uncommon for white.

Gripping the wheel, denying the urge to flight.
The white officer appears, makes his demands. 
Red and blue colors, a dangerous light.

Tension thick in the air, nerves come alight.
Disobedience lurks, begging for a stand.
Death; common for black, uncommon for white.

One wrong word, one wrong move, could start a fight.
An innocent child, did misunderstand.
Red and blue colors, a dangerous light.

Reached for an object, in the dark of night.
Stereotypical fear, led to something grand.
Death; common for black, uncommon for white.

Does his best to obey, but is told goodnight.
A shot fires, taking a life unplanned.
Red and blue colors, a dangerous light.
Death; common for black, uncommon for white.

Copyright © Brianna Orendorf | Year Posted 2017

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School

School
It's pointless
Words hurt me
Teachers never do anything
Old scars become fresh wounds
Those girls continue to taunt me
Continue to call me names, horrible names
Pain, it is far too much too handle 
What is the point of living if death's preferable?
Slicing through my wrists feels nicer than those nasty words
Bullet through my head is better than the hurt 
Rope nicer against my skin than their hands
It would be simpler to swallow pills
It would be simpler to jump
No one would even care
No one would notice
Maybe I shall?
It's easier
School.

Copyright © Brianna Orendorf | Year Posted 2016

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One True Love

Your love, a keeper it would be,
your kisses sweet as you,
and loving hugs a nice surprise,
especially with a view.

Your tender words, and sweet concern,
another thing to love.
My love will last as long as yours,
until death do us part.

But all things good must come to end,
and soon it did just that.
The words they rolled right of your tongue,
and hit me with a splat.

A onetime thing it was not,
and soon it came again.
This time though he didn't use words,
his fists instead caused pain.

But then he was himself once more,
all sweet and cuddly.
But then he looked at me and swore,
and then his temper came.

My life is not complete without,
the man I thought was mine,
but if I stay I will get hurt,
and that is not divine.

Copyright © Brianna Orendorf | Year Posted 2016




Book: Shattered Sighs