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Tara Lazar Poem
I don’t fit in the crowd I stand out,
So I’m excluded can't hangout,
Every single day without a debate,
People are always gunna hate,
They will also alienate!
So why do I try so hard to be accepted?
When that only leads to me being rejected!
The fact is I'll always be an outcast,
The kid that always gets picked last.
But yet I still try so hard,
Despite just being a discard.
No one can see my pain,
That it's a constant strain,
Or every single scar;
From where I went too far.
Alas I wasn't going to die,
No matter how hard I try.
So I decided to just be me,
As you'll never be judgement free.
There's no point in being fake,
Caring what people think is the mistake!
Copyright © Tara Lazar | Year Posted 2017
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Tara Lazar Poem
Standing all alone, on a winters night, beside a headstone;
Mourning my beloved one who'd been taken by their suborning.
But alas they've finally been set free, from this pain, unlike me.
Heavy snow begins falling, while wild wind chills me to my bone.
Standing all alone, with this pain I must endure forever more.
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As their wife, their precipitant death, scared my inside for life,
Nothing can fill this void, my last shred of sanity, now destroyed;
Hysterically, I’m drowning, full of turmoil: emotionally!
Feels like I’m invariably being slashed with a serrated knife.
As their wife, with this pain I must endure forever more.
Placing lillIes attentively on the grave- which gives me the willies.
Tho standing entirely desolate, the white lillies, make me blate.
However no one knows the encroaching grief that just grows!
Laughter erupts surrounding me, it's just my old bullies.
Placing lillies, with this pain i must endure forever more.
Finally my madness, wins and the sadness,
For now I must confess, you see, my heads a real mess;
So I drink this cyanide setting free my demons inside!
For now I am engulfed by pure blackness.
Finally this pain I mustn't endure forever more,
As I am no more.
Copyright © Tara Lazar | Year Posted 2017
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Tara Lazar Poem
Our society's full of poor propaganda,
Everyone fighting to be the alpha!
Happy to fight wars that cost billions;
Yet won't support the civillans;
Numerous are forced onto the street;
More don't have enough to eat.
Our society's full of poor propaganda,
Everyone fighting to be the alpha!
Living costs has really increased,
But the economy has strongly decreased;
Welfare systems have gone down;
Causing people pain and to frown.
Our society's full of poor propaganda,
Everyone fighting to be the alpha!
A world still full of discrimination;
Causing trillons complete devestation;
Gays, blacks, muslims, jews you can abhor;
Society turns a blind eye and will ignore.
Our society's full of poor propaganda,
Everyone fighting to be the alpha!
Social media rules our teens,
All addicted to their screens;
Looks are what matter,
Causing many to shatter.
Our society's full of poor propaganda,
Everyone fighting to be the alpha!
Another issue is global-warming;
And the sheer amount of self-harming
It's absurd, triany, I’m in dismay,
What’s wrong with the world today?
Copyright © Tara Lazar | Year Posted 2017
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Tara Lazar Poem
Why am I even still breathing?
When in life theres nothing for me to gain,
There really isn't any point in me living;
i've thrown my life down the drain.
But I just wish people could tell,
That I cant take this anymore,
And that i’m really not well.
Honestly i wish id done it before.
All I desire is to be completely freed,
So a bullet to the head.
Guess a gun is all I need,
Then I’ll be on my deathbed.
Copyright © Tara Lazar | Year Posted 2017
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Tara Lazar Poem
My body is always abused and it's always used:
But the fact is I really don’t care, never even wash my hair;
Never giving my body any fuel, my head is a whirlpool;
Everything’s out of control, I’m sinking into a black hole.
All the alcohol I drink so I cant think;
Is really abusing me, destroying my body literally;
7 packs per week I smoke, causing my lungs to be a joke;
All the drugs I consume, surely is causing my doom?
Every single blade scar, from where I went too far;
My body's where the art is made, the brush itself being a blade.
This dreadful addiction can't be cured, it has my death soon ensured.
But still from this pain I can't wake, unable to give my body a single break.
Copyright © Tara Lazar | Year Posted 2017
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