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Long Teenage Poems

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Long Poems
Long poem by Robert Candler | Details

The Sooner Recruit

Fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan;
And watched thousands of recruits try to make my Sooners Team.
Often, I’ve enviously wondered what it must be like
To be a touted Sooners recruit, living out his dream.

He’d had a great career through high school;
Made good grades, was a football star, played baseball too.
Coach said college recruiters were watching closely;
So, he tried his very best to make his dream come true.

You see, he’d played on the L’il Sooners as a kid;
Started getting serious about the game when he was only eight
Played with older, bigger boys and practiced hard;
Always told his friends, “To be a Sooner, ya gotta play great”.

Oh yes, his parents raised a football player;
And, even more important, a Sooners fan;
But he wanted more, to be a Sooner,
To feel the glory raining down from the stands. 

Now, the Sooners’ Head Coach is in his living room.
“Son, you’ve got talent.  We think you fit our scheme.
We’re offering you a scholarship, an opportunity
To be an important member of our great Sooners Team”.

His mother smiles her biggest smile.
His father nods proudly and pats him on the knee.
“Lord knows, son, it’s a dream come true.
Go be the very best Sooner you can be”.

He walks into the locker room,
Not quite sure what to expect;
But sure that to play for the Sooners
He will first have to earn respect.

He looks each man straight in the eye - 
Other recruits, trainers, assistants, and every coach.
“Be proud, but respectful”, his mother had said;
Your character, more than your performance, must be above reproach”.

His handshake is firm and he smiles.
“Only one chance for a first impression”, his father had said;
"Always put yourself in positive light, on and off the field.
That’s what it will take to play for the mighty Big Red”.

He meets so many other recruits, each one a high school star.
He’s played against a few and knows they share his dream.
And, to a man, each knows before any chance for Glory,
He first must prove worthy to play for this Sooners Team.

He knows a few will fail to meet the coaches’ expectations.
For some, the scout team will be their fate.
Many will suit up, but rarely play.
Only the very best will ever dare to be great.

Coach says, “If every man learns and executes when called on,
Then this team, we Sooners, will win a lot of games;
But, win or lose, if you play hard and give your very best,
You’ll never have to hang your heads in shame”.

“But gentlemen, with or without you, this team will win.
Every season, the Sooners strive to win it All.
So, listen, work hard, and prepare yourselves.  Each game is war...
And you must be ready when Victory calls”.

Through grueling practices, he finds himself.
As he walks to class, his closest friends are aches and pains;
But, just the other day, Coach helped him up, smiled, and patted his helmet.
“You’re doin’ fine, son.  Keep pushin’.  Remember, no pain, no gain”.

He sees his name on the "open scrimmage" roster for the very first time.
It’s a moment he’ll never forget, another milestone in his dream.
He calls his Mom and Dad, knowing they’ll tell his family and his friends.
He hopes they’ll actually see him play, proof he’s made the Team.

As he suits up for the last pre-season open scrimmage,
He wonders if the coaches would really let a freshman play at all;
But Coach puts him in for eight plays against the first team;
He makes two great open-field tackles and intercepts the ball.

He barely hears the roar of the crowd, as the whole defense “gives him five”.
He’s so excited, he forgets to ask if he can keep that ball.
Fans are buzzing, “Did you see that hit”!?  “Who is that kid”!?
“Will he red shirt or will Coach let him play this fall”? 

He sees his name in the Sunday paper, hears it on local sports.
He’s happy, but he doesn’t let it go to his head.
He keeps his focus and uses it as motivation.
After all, he wants to start one day for the mighty Big Red.

Yes, we’ll hear more of this young recruit.
Perhaps, one day he’ll be the hero of the game.
A seasoned veteran, maybe All Conference or even All American,
Who’s tasted Victory many times and helped glorify the Sooners’ name.

Oh yes, there have been so many who’ve aspired;
But many fewer who’ve actually made our Sooners Team.
They are our heroes, each and every one;
For it’s through their accomplishments, we fans can live the dream.

Billy Vessels, Steve Owens, Billy Sims, and Jason White,
The Selmons, Little Joe, the Boz, Josh Heupel, and “Q”
They, and so many others, were once touted Sooners recruits;
Who set a higher mark and built the Tradition that is OU.

So, c’mon! c’mon! all you great young football players!
Dedicate your talents to OU’s Team and OU’s Fans.
Make Oklahoma’s Owen Field your Field of Dreams,
And feel the Glory raining down from the stands. 

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Therese Bacha | Details


                            ~ Punished~
One evening with her dad she met this man at a bar very
handsome well mannered visiting from England.
After a few visits she started feeling him approaching her 
with nice compliments.

His attention made her fall In love with him
For months he took her out running to the beach 
shouting out loud I love your body i love your eyes
you’ll never belong to nobody but me.
On a moonlight night he was holding her so tight 
kissing her lips caressing her tits expressing his 
desire to light up the fire that was burning in their
entire body and soul.

As he was her first this is what she thought at the 
beginning she was very reserved yet she liked the 
fire she was feeling they were new to her his kissing 
was sensuous he smelled lovely he was caressing her
hair while sitting on the sand she was so taken by her
thoughts suddenly she heard.

Oh my darling let me love you my way let me make you 
my woman without any delay I beg you to give up and 
stop the fight I am promising at the same time to marry 
you very soon I will ask your dad that you will become my 
wife next Sunday at soon.

She wanted to believe him her head was spinning her heart
was beating to the sounds of his powerful movements
she was reaching the sky so quickly sensations of ecstasy 
she was feeling with his compliments whispering his love 
to her out loud while she was dreaming of the marriage 
as being lifted up on a carriage listening to the horses 
tapping on the course to the hotel room where they will 
spend their honeymoon as she will become that bride 
at noon.

Before even her dreams were over she felt him suddenly 
role over and ran away with no delay she could not understand
why ? Why? Did he leave with no good-bye.

Not realizing she was undressed hurried to get dressed ran to look 
from side to side asking herself why did he hide he promised me 
to be his bride? even if she was yet a child.

She sat where they loved each other looking at the ocean maybe
he will come back he must he told her he is in love.

Already it was dark in a low voice having no choice she ran 
home straight to her room wiping her running tears and fears
covering her feet to feel some heat and fell asleep not to see
her dad as maybe tomorrow he will come back with an 
explanation to his act. 

Hoping not to be deceived and very soon to be relieved
when he ‘ll knock on their door and swipe her off her feet 
tell her dad to fix their marriage.

She waited for days and days but that day never came 
she knew then it was only a game and she`ll never see 
him again and will never be the same.
That early morning she woke up before her dad to cheer up 
herself for him not to doubt she had maybe made a huge 
Having her coffee she pulled the newspaper and screamed
Oh Oh the man she loved was an addicted rapist being 
searched from the Interpol in England, he had convinced 
everybody doctors and nurses that he was cured.

Continuing to read she read his history that he was battling 
addiction of raping teenagers for the past twenty years. Lived
most of the time in jail.
She cried and cried she was raped by an addicted rapist who
was never cured.
She could not eat or drink not knowing what to think 
while running to the sink that’s when she found out 
but couldn’t shout that she was carrying a rapist child. 

Where are you? She thought you were honest
But you were only an ordinary man still battling
your addiction.

Forgive me Oh My God! Her dad
forgave her out of love to his innocent daughter.

She had to keep her child and trusted herself
to bring him up not like his father.
And she did her son became an international lawyer.

   Therese Bacha
Contest for PD....Any Poem Goes.

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by Russell Banks | Details

The Catch and The Tremble

Lady dearest, fair Romeo, is this the name
the title you wish to bestow upon me
or is it one shared among multiple hearts shot at by multiple nets
I ask only in truth, in search of truth, in confidence
for I know you dare not tread the line to lie to me
Dearest Lady, fair Scarlett, I choose this title among others
for you are the dearest one to me
and if you dare catch my honesty as false
here, let me bare my chest so you may pierce it through
No, no need love to go through the extreme
only indulge me sweet prince and answer these inquiries
Romeo, dear Romeo, do I resonate within you? 
My Scarlett, you should know by now, realize by now
you resonate more than I dare to share
you are unattainable yet you have attained my attention
a dream you are, a dream come true hazel princess
Your compliments are grand nor can I deny I'm flustered
but flattery will not ease my mind
so tell me, 'dear hero', am I the catch in your breath
or the tremble upon your lips? 
Heroine, you are the catch in my breath upon trembling lips
whispering your name to starry nights, craving your kiss
so indulge an inquiry of my own: 
Have I answered your intricate questions with satisfying responses
or must I convince you more of the love I shower upon you
Convince me if you can, convince me if you please
but riddle me this
do I rest within your thoughts and dreams
or do I only brush against the seams of your tattered heart
quaking your very rhythm darling
and is it me, a sigh beneath the moon
with my imprint scarred upon your flesh my love
as my fingers trace the etching of you every night
Brush? No, my dear, you are the first aid kit in my thoughts
the glue in my dreams, the queen of hearts in my slumber
stitching up the frayed seams of my tattered heart
Allow me another question to ask
do you cascade into silence as my heavy voice lulls you to sleep
as I sigh to the moon whom always keeps me an arms reach 
away from you
so here, place your imprint upon me if you dare I won't care
just as long as you don't mind me saying I'm yours
Dear Scarlett, is this all you ask of me? 
Dear Scarlett, it's true, all I want is you.
Scarlett, is this it or is there something else you ask of me? 
And in a split second, my heart dropped two feet when she...
Romeo, there is one more thing you can do...die for me...
in swift succession I bore his chest and pierced it through
in swift succession she bare my chest and pierced it through
My eyes, my vision, they were becoming faint
and I panicked as my fingers turned from ghostly white to red 
Romeo, she shouts as I struggle to stand
Romeo, she screams, I didn't mean for you to die on me literally
you are my hero, your heart made of gold
though tattered and broken, I believed you invincible
Scarlett, he said through coughs and weakness
Scarlett, he said as he fell to one knee crying
Scarlett, you are the world to me
and in truth you're the second I've died for
please Scarlett, don't protest, let me speak
Scarlett, he said as he pulled me in for embrace
Scarlett, I'd rather die by your hand
than be without you forever
Scarlett, though my time has come and my chest broken
my heart will stay yours always
The last words to part his lips as he fell from the world
I love you my queen...tell them my story
His story, my story, our story means
don't fall for her, don't fall for him and
treat him like a liar, take her for granted
Make her feel like a queen, let him be your hero
and if you give her your heart, die for her figuratively
and if you give him your heart, make him promise to not let you

Copyright © Russell Banks | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Timothy Hicks | Details

American Teen

With words alone they knock me off my feet
At class they push me around and call me freak
Should I do the same, sell drugs on the street,
Stoop to these filthy rats when I'm at my peak?
You were their beautiful make belief doll
Put on a smile now, but tired of these close calls
Every night you break down in the bathroom stall
Finding out this isn't what you wanted at all

Is it normal to feel worthless, a girl
With stubborn dreams?
I'm sorry for all the questions
But it's all new to me

Maybe I should do the same
Act like it's all just a game
Do what I want like a true American teen
Come home late from the party all battered and green
Lose myself to white powder
Watch as my insides grow sour
Ought'a screw it like a true American teen
Isn't that what everyone expects me to be?

Smoking stinky clouds to fill up the room
After persistently warning me not to
Now you drink to impress those at school
Two months ago you were happy being you
Passing me the pipe saying don't worry
As you hand me the poison so casually
I ask should I be trembling restlessly,
And just let the acidic demons run free?

Is it normal to feel like I'm choking,
Like I can't breathe?
I'm sorry for all the questions
But it's all new to me

Maybe I should do the same
Act like it's all just a game
Do what I want like a true American teen
Come home late from the party all battered and green
Lose myself to white powder
Watch as my insides grow sour
Ought'a screw it like a true American teen
Isn't that what everyone expects me to be?

Upchuck a river of green stomach waste
Slip 'n' slide until the floors thoroughly laced
Crushing all our high standards in disgrace
Getting a glimpse of our futures face to face
Knock me down cause I'm quiet and shy
Through every beating, I ask why me, why?
Cause I believe that tomorrow is nigh
Making me think I'm nobody pushed aside

It's tough when my own friends turn against me
Cause in this hazy room I refuse to breathe
Ten people tug at my shirt, should I leave?
I'm tempted to cave, tonight I feel so weak
It's funny how out of nowhere friends change
Telling me I should get with it and act my age
Live it up now then rot in a tight cage
Yeah, it's funny how out of nowhere friends change

Maybe I should do the same
Act like it's all just a game
Do what I want like a true American teen
Come home late from the party all battered and green
Lose myself to white powder
Watch as my insides grow sour
Ought'a screw it like a true American teen
Isn't that what everyone expects me to be?

Someday you'll awake and see the blue sky
A foolish old man barely even alive
Too high to remember all those black eyes
All those glorious years you just waved goodbye

NOTE: I often wonder what it might have been like to grow up in a normal high school, doing normal high school things. There's a part of me that wanted to experience it all... and another part of me is thankful I didn't have to.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Elyse Molina | Details

Yes I Plagiarized

God why is it so hard to write a poem
Is it because I have nothing to say
Or is it because I have too much that my mind can’t choose one topic
I was too lazy so I copied a poem from an old notebook of mine
I guess I was in this same position as I was before because I had copied it again
Unknowing of my past actions I copied that poem and changed it up
Without knowing, I had copied it from someone else originally
Yes I plagiarized
The very definition of that word makes me feel like a fake
I am nothing more than a lazy cheater of life
This is the way I have always been
I would submit the same essays to different teachers
Turn in the same work over and over again to avoid it
I would even go as far as to take the same science fair project
Yes the one from elementary and use it again in both middle school and high school
Yes I plagiarized
I’ve been copying my own work throughout school
And the original work you may ask?
That was copied from someone else years ago
I had been using the plagiarized work so much, I believed it was my own
If you may be wondering, I am not really talking about the poem anymore
I am talking about myself
How can I be creative and original when my whole life is a lie
Yes I plagiarized
I plagiarised so much when I was young I forgot I was lying
Lying about the things I wrote
Lying about the things I said
Lying about the people I called “friends”
Lying about the things I’ve done
Lying to my friends and family about everything and anything
I was lying about every little thing so I could fit in
Yes I plagiarized
I’ve gotten to that point were if I could have plagiarized my birth certificate
I would have
If I could have plagiarized the way I looked
I would have
If I could have plagiarized the very essence of my being
I would have
But those kind of things could not be plagiarized.. But yes
Yes I plagiarized
I’m not quite sure when this had all started 
I’m not even quite sure if it will ever end
I don’t know who I am anymore because of all the lies 
All of the plagiarized lies cloud my thoughts and mind
I can no longer think straight as a person
If there was one thing I should have plagiarized
It should have been how to be my original self.
Yes I plagiarized
Who knows 
Maybe the words that are slipping through my mouth are not my own
What if this poem gets flagged down as a fraud
Am I even deserving of a diploma at the end of the year? 
I didn't learn much throughout my 12 years of school
I remember messing around and getting in trouble
But in the end of the day I have to tell myself that
Yes I plagiarized
Sometimes I wonder if my heartbeats are not my own
If every breath I take is not mine
Every inhale was pure and untouched
Every exhale was somebody else’s breath
Nothing on my body is pure
It’s all somebody else's
I had to plagiarize myself into somebody else
Yes I plagiarized

Copyright © Elyse Molina | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Broken Wings | Details

''I breathed his name a thousand times''

a kid in love     in deep adoration-
oh   the worship    the longing affection
I breathed his name

writing it in my notebook   a thousand times
david    dave    dave   mrs  david . . . 

love  forever and ever and ever

I kissed him with passion     in my mind and dreams
a girl of fourteen    a geek with bottle glasses
with her nose in a book

I even wrote a love note    a fatal letter
that winged itself to nowhere
        after all he was a quarterback

a noble god    so regal    on his throne
charging down the football field
   like he was at war    rockets and bombs bursting
the crowd cheering their champion

in class he looked with a stare    at his blank notes
on tests    the guy grimaced and groaned
most popular boy in school    with golden hair
the body of a man        
        the brain of a child      he was my everything

I wanted to have his children    I was smitten
            oh it was love

sadly      he did not know my name
did not even look at me           I was nothing in his
world           I hung my head like a dying flower
he did not see         the ugly duckling in love 

one time I congratulated him
he looked at me like I was speaking
      in an alien tongue
the truth hurt deeply      my heart bled
 with       a sea of tears     scars
are the road map to the soul      I have learned

the years rolled on but I never forgot       david
years withered                      like leaves of decay
my heart drowning       in memories

I left the ugly duckling far behind    and the quarterback
and a flower grew
     life rumbled on since those high school days

then      one bright sunny day            not long ago  
     on a city street
I was walking            my hair blowing in the wind
  like a flowing river streaming      down my shoulders
my sundress pressed to my curves     construction workers
whistled and blew kisses     
       clouds like ice cream castles floated in the sky
and there he was -

walking towards me   my long ago love    from a far off place
I knew it was him    the smile    the easy going walk
               the confidence     the godly air
     and I was taken back to the shy little girl
I passed by saying nothing    nothing     nothing

but he paused      I wonder did he know
       I continued on       smiling and laughing to myself
the wheels of justice        turn slowly
because      he has lost all his golden hair
    and was that a donut underneath his shirt -

and the drums of time have ceased to play
                                  on this love of long ago

July 22, 2015

Free Verse

For the contest, Love In A Far Off Place, sponsor, Frank Herrera

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Lexy Goodluck | Details

Could It Be Love

Who has the ability to make me catch my breath, 
Increase my steady heartbeat, 
Send a wave of warmth deep into my core.
The answer is simple, you can. 
I’ve always had these strong steel walls built around my heart. 
A strong shield that no one has ever been able to break. 
Many have tried, as many will, but I held fast, I stood strong, forever afraid of getting hurt. 
Yet somehow you've managed to melt the metal wall, somehow you were able to break through.
Everyday more and more of that wall deteriorates,
Falls into a deep abyss of what could be.
I find myself more open with you.
I can express myself, share the depth of my feelings for you.
I find myself more secure, not only in what we have and your feelings for me, but also in myself.
I’ve never felt so good about who I am before. 
You bring out the best in me. 
With you, I endlessly want to be a better person. 
A person who feels worthy of you. 
I don’t feel like I’ve done enough good to have you in my life. 
It truly is the greatest gift to know you even remotely care about me.
I can’t even describe the affect you have on me.
Oh, how your laugh sends chills up my spine?
I don’t know what it is, but its the best laugh of anyone I know.
I absolutely love it when you look at me. 
Those pretty green eyes, man, at these moments life is incredible.
And the very few, short moments that you've touched me; playfully punching my arm 
or crossing my fingers to prove a point. 
Some of the best moments of my life. 
If I think of you while eating, I immediately lose my appetite.
If I think of you at all, a huge smile finds its way onto my face.
I think of you all day and clear into the night. 
I sometimes dream of you, ridiculous pointless dreams, but dreams no less. 
You have such a hold on me that I know without you somewhere in my messy, crazy life, I would have no life at all.
My friends make fun of me, say things about how I act, but they don’t understand how it feels to see you or just to be near you.
They don’t understand at all.
How can anyone feel so strongly about someone?
How can my life feel so complete with you or incomplete when you’re gone?
There’s such a thing called love, 
Such a thing so beautiful and pure its God’s only way of life for us. 
A way to better ourselves. 
Some might say what I’m feeling isn’t love itself, but why does it feel so much like it?
Why does it feel so real?
Better yet, why does it feel so perfect?
Not a tint of poisonous toxins within. 
So I ask, could it be love?

Copyright © Lexy Goodluck | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Angel C | Details


Do you remember how I spent every day pushing you away?
Do you remember how you used to open up to me forever and a day?
Do you remember how when we talked on the phone you wouldn’t say my name?
It was ‘Hey Beautiful?’ ‘Hey babyyyy?’ ‘Hey love?’ ‘I thought it was lame…

But do you remember how you made me talk to you almost every single day?
And do you remember how you constantly tried to make everything ok?
Or do you remember how you wouldn’t allow me to run you away?
So do you remember all of those nights where I would cry but never say?

I remember how you told me that I reminded you of your battered ex
I remember how you first told me that you loved me… not through text.
I remember how you woke up in the middle of the night and told me about your dream... nightmare?
You thought that I was asleep but no,  I was listening…I remember how you were unaware.

Can you remember how I was always terribly afraid to tell you things?
Can you remember how I cried? Laughed? Or the way I sing?
Can you remember how I you always accused me of playing you silly? 
Can you remember how I let you talk to my favorite little cuties?

I bet you don't remember how I waited for you so…
I bet you don't remember when I told you I loved you though…
I bet you don't remember when you said this wasn't gonna hurt
I bet you don’t remember that this is why I was constantly on alert…

I know you wouldn’t remember how I cried every night for two and a half weeks
I know you wouldn’t remember how I wrote you unsent letters…. Not with ink.
I know you wouldn’t remember how I pretended you never made me happy…
And I know you can’t remember how much it hurt… when you didn’t fight for me….

I expected it though so it’s okay… I promise… it’s alright.
I was steadily seeking out the day that you would be snatched up out of my life.
I don't really care so you can go and play with your little girlfriends... just go.
You didn't fight for me so don't come back now... stay out there in the cold.

Don't come back to me trying to say I forgot about you...
Because you're the one who left me so don't act like this is all new.
You think those unanswered texts and ignored calls are my fault?
Don't PUT IT ON ME when you're the one who should have fought.

But who chose not to...?
Edmond that was you.
You said you wanted to be my rock...
Boy please... You was all about that talk.

Telling me this... telling me that.
I'm so stupid I believed you'd react...
The way that you said you would...
You didn't.

Copyright © Angel C | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Rhoda Monihan | Details

The Moral Point of Cinderella

Cinderella was disliked by her family, 
Her step-mother and her sisters;
Whilst she was kind and generous, 
They were evil and boisterous. 

All her family had a weight problem, 
But she was sim and elegant, 
Amorous and thoughtful, 
Coy, clever and somewhat bashful. 

But she hated everyday living, 
As she was just a housemaid and  a cook, 
So she most definitely wanted to attend the ball, 
Where the prince could at her look. 

But her step-mum said no, 
And both her sisters did gloat,  
So she knew she must escape, 
From her sinking boat. 

If your sociology is bad, 
You can believe in whoever for you so cares, 
And her role-model was her fairy godmother, 
Who in her did hope and for her had dares. 

She made it such that Cinders could, 
Attend the ball looking good, 
By transforming what they had themselves, 
Into a ball-gown and carriage with hood. 

The prince instantly fell in love, 
With Cinderella and her way, 
But she rushed off only leaving him her shoe, 
To follow up on her foreplay. 

Love comes above all else, 
When things are grim and rough, 
And you must determinedly secure, 
Those hope-beads that are made of good stuff. 

When you just can't find morality in your life,
The monarch’s voice stands for you,
And the King said that his son,
Should search for his love in the many and the few.

So he searched for her in every house, 
Finding her in a cold, locked room, 
And she insisted on trying on his treasured shoe,
Taking opportunity which banished all her gloom. 

You need to take opportunity with both hands, 
By its horns, steadfast and sure, 
And even make things happen when no light shines, 
So that you beckon and you lure. 

The prince forced a physical trial, 
Of the shoe on each ones foot, 
‘Cos love is physical, not just social, 
And is not just psychology’s reboot. 

Ok, Cinder’s godmother was a magic one,  
Not real to her step-mum or sisters, 
But when you’re suppressed and called inferior, 
Your thoughts are valid for your interior. 

Your actions are right, 
And morality is with you, 
Not those with money or riches, 
Whose selfish deeds do not do. 

Being born to abusive parents, 
Being born different, poor or destitute, 
Doesn't mean you must be such forever, 
Just that you need to be most resolute. 

So Prince Charming whisked her off, 
Right out of her house and her life, 
And that should be for all of us, 
Where hurt and hardship are rife. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Madison Marie | Details

Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people, 
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.

Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013

Long Poems