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Cheyanne C. Poem
All I see in a superficial world,
Are fake grins,
Snotty comment,
Catty remarks,
I'm silent in the wings,
Hidden,
Seen only by my fellow shadows.
But we who are the silent,
We see the knives in the backs,
The disgustingly sweet smiles that mask malevolent intent.
I can see through the fake silence
To the inner cacophony.
Real silence is lost to the petty,
Who have small minds for all they talk about are others.
Not one of us dares to step in and wipe off the face that they wear
But I am tired
I hate to see the ignorant people
Who pretend to know everything,
But I feel the need to tell them that what resides in their heads is nothing but fluff.
I pity this misguided youth,
Who are taught that they are never good enough.
So I step out of the shadows,
And wipe away the paint.
Copyright © Cheyanne C. | Year Posted 2014
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Cheyanne C. Poem
What should she do,
The girl who wants to cry,
But refuses to let tears fall.
What should she do,
The girl who wants to scream,
Yet refuses to show pain.
She has her friends, her family,
And at times,
It seems the whole world.
What should she do,
The girl with a smile on her face,
But a scowl on her heart.
The girl who loved to love life,
Embraced being different,
Yet was scorned, hated,
And considered a waste of flesh and breath.
What should she do,
The girl who longs to go where
There is happily ever after.
Who writes and sings,
Dances and draws,
But no one sees who she is inside.
The girl who saw in the shades of the rainbow,
Yet was forced to see in grey black and white.
Who wants to cause some damage, and raise a little hell.
But when she steps out of the boundaries set for a perfect child,
She is scolded and mocked.
She longs to be free,
To be herself.
What should she do,
The girl who wants only love,
But is a marionette.
The girl who has a mind and brains of her own,
But is told not to use them,
Because, then, then she would be an
Individual.
Her fate was decided,
No questions asked.
She has an obligation
To be a generous person,
While the real girl is clawin' at the walls.
She doesn't mind the dark,
Because that is her mind.
She doesn't fear death,
Because that is another thing layed before her,
With no other options.
She screams and scorns
And dreams,
Yet is only half molded,
For the potter who molded her forgot
To give her a mind that cared about the laws of society.
She wants to speak her mind,
But is afraid of the abuse she will suffer.
She thinks she has only two options.
One,
To never really live and to be a mindless clone
For her entire life,
Or two,
Give up on what she all ready seen,
And know that she will never really be seen.
That girl,
That girl is me.
I see her every day,
Hear the words whispered,
deep in her head.
"Freak"
"Nerd"
"Emo"
"*****"
They rip me up,
Tear me down,
And scorn me.
But I will become like the Phoenix
And rise for my crumbled remains....
Copyright © Cheyanne C. | Year Posted 2014
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Cheyanne C. Poem
Darling be careful.
You might be graceful,
You may be kind.
But all I see is misery in your green, green eyes.
You aren't alone,
And despite your facade,
You are not cast from stone.
Your beauty is momentary,
But your poisoned soul is eternal.
My love,
Be careful.
For what you see as yours
Can be broken,
Easy as a delicate glass.
Copyright © Cheyanne C. | Year Posted 2014
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