Recently made poems! (accepting critique and opinion ^3^)



Original poster
So this is just the post to get it goin. Hi owo/ I am working on a few poems and really wanting to get some opinions x3
kay das it ^-^/


Original poster

The keys on a key come naturally to some one like me.
I’m a nerd, the school definition of that used to be something like…
The socially inept, adept at hiding from the public behind a screen,
Another word for freak,
the only consistency ever kept would be in a kill streak,
The only thing you succeeded at is beating a game
in one day when it should have taken a week.
Stereotypically represented being weak.
Every day we are asked if we are going to waste our lives,
wide eyed, at a bright screen
sitting with a slouched lean,
unable to even keep our rooms clean,
And although you know exactly what they are saying
They are saying, that’s not what I mean.
Yeah…. It is.
If you wonder what the cause is for us hiding in a dark room,
barely speaking… Ill tell you, and I won’t be tweaking what I say.
This is the truth…

It’s you….
The one’s who stand up tall and try to be top dog,
The one’s who do everything in their power to hog attention
Then down talk us saying we are pathetic… just another freak.
How we will never amount to anything we just reek of failure,
before we even try you would lie to us saying we… we are nothing…
W. A. S. and D. If you played a computer as long as people like me…,
you automatically know where those keys are.
Like me…. Who could only hide behind a screen…
and for the longest a search for a friend could strain the mental state.
For the original nerds who grew up…. Bullying was worse...
it only took hundreds of years to notice… bullying is a problem….
For the bullied it robbed them…
Of freedom…. Of expression
And the right… to have self esteem.
Nerds know these keys…
and they know what I mean when I say them…
I’m a nerd….. but that’s all I could ever be.
Any moment we tried to work hard towards anything else, we were beaten….
Whether or not it was fists or words didn’t matter… it all hurt.
IF you find someone like me but didn’t find another release…
Ask them why they never wear a short sleeve shirt…
And I wish life was a little less cruel but it is what it is…
Just like we are who we are…

But I want to tell you, despite everything that’s happened to you
They were wrong…. You’re a diamond,
that just needs get rid of the shell of coal..
all you need to do is etch away the lies you were told since child birth…
You have a priceless worth TRUST ME. I KNOW.
There is only one of you in existence. Yeah some look like you… some are similar…
But there is really only one you and I have one message for you.
WASD… remember these keys and remember this.
We Aren’t the Socially Deprived.
We are a bunch of wall flowers on a snaking vine that is growing in shade…
And we’ve grown beautifully…
I’ll say it again….
We Aren’t the Socially Deprived
Show the world that this wall flower.. thrives.
And not just that we’ve made it out alive..
We have lived our lived.


Original poster
I’m Trying

1, 2, 3, 4~
I’m pacing my heartbeat, don’t know what for…~
5, 6, 7, 8~
Can’t solve this explosive heart ache…~
But I’m trying; I’m trying to be… fine…~

Kindness, the depth behind that word is too deep for most to comprehend..
Unless they met her… someone who is the epitome of the word friend…
Her smile and outstretched hand raised the spirits of many a distraught…
But… she never got one for her…
Her cries for help were like whispers trying to be louder then screams.
Yet she was tearing at the seems and no one in their wildest dreams thought…
she was breaking…
taking her out stretched arms with greedy need
but never considered to return the favor…
All she ever wanted to do… was help…
She let herself be the stepping stool of people who needed to move on.
crushing her self in the process… she could have been on her death bed…
and would still rip her arm off to give others a helping hand.
She was kindness at it’s finest…
But self esteem at it’s worst…
The words “I’m fine” was something she constantly rehearsed.
And I only saw a glimpse of her hints of self destruction one time when there was a blood stain on her jacket sleeve.
Yet people still believed she was okay when they caught the scars on her arms.
Most forgot you when you vanished….
forgot that you were the one who branded the smiles they had on their face.

But I… will never forget you…
The one who saved my life and then threw away yours…
I won’t forget the little song I couldn’t connect with your feelings for some reason….
Why….. why didn’t I realize you… needed someone…
Why did my mind play treason with me when I could have saved you…
The song would count to number eight…. And I still remember it.
every syllable.. every curve in the letters…
But I could never see your lit fuse….
I watched you from the other side of a computer monitor
smile as you fashioned a rope to use.
You said this world will only ever take and never even consider to give back
That people can have a heart… but caring affection is what they lack…
I will prove your belief wrong..
And I will stay strong for you…
I will take your place bending over backwards to help people… and I will show you…
The good in this world…
You used to say… “I’m trying…” a lot….
you were trying… you tried…
But it only left shattered remains where your heart lied but I promise…
Where you tried I will succeed…
and although I don’t believe in heaven… I do know you have been freed…
and I promise you… I will pay your kindness back… ever last second of it.
And show you that people are kind across the world… every section… every bit.
And It’s not so much me wanting to never forget you…
But more of the world remembering you through me…


Original poster
Eye as in I

art is a thing we relate to talent.
a balance between skill and beauty.
And to show the world art is an artist's duty
Art doesn't distinguish me from you.
So why do people have to?
but if you don't care, they won't.
but still there are times.
where the world is basically Sprite that refuses to be Sprite
Consisting of separated lemons and limes.
Where affections toward family can turn on dimes.
And for the guy or girl who finds that they don't have affections for the opposite sex
being treated like they have done a crime by the very family that they love.
Like they should be put in jail and do time because social representation is put above the child's love...
"You're not my daughter..."
"You're not my son..."
If the parents could build their children their own personal hell
They would stoke the flames trying to make it hotter.
People on average forget the emotions of other people and how they are feeling
Reeling back onto a track of how things work
a track that's sk-
track that's sk-
Like a-
Li-Li-Like a-
Like a track skipping on a bro-bro-broken record
skipping on a broken record.
Tripping on their mistakes and hate
Like a person who can't debate.
Constantly treating own flesh and blood like they have a hideous disease.
Basically calling them leps.
Not really caring of the depths of pain that their own children gain from the constant rejection.
Constantly fighting for the election of who's the favorite child between siblings.
The competition has just been made harder in the fight for affection.
Constantly in a battle point near bloodshed for that single selection.
Leaving little of the sanity most people start with in their head.
And the sad part about that is that much worse things have been done and said...
leaving a person's heart and mind dead.

and he... was born with out the ability for anyone to hear his voice.
It wasn't his choice to be born without the power speech.
Or having to learn another set of words and how to pronounce each.
Having no way to speak his mind.
So he learned to write.
almost catching arthritis from trying so hard.
nearly putting his hands in ruin, his only trump card.
Spelling each letter clearly
Graduating to a world where he earns money yearly.
Profiting from the writing he had been fighting to learn.
Trying to make the world hear his alternate voice of concern.
still dreaming of what silenced people yearn....
To speak his mind freely
Ready to let sounds and words leak easily.
So he tries, every morning through the usual self cleaning.
You'd see him leaning into the mirror.
He would open his mouth as if by some chance words would tumble out.
As if things would change and someday he would be able to talk and not just talk but shout.
And when they didn't.
When it was just gusts of air like an exhale
as if him talking was too much of a fairy-tale
he never let it get to him.
Because the success of dreams stem with hope.
Knowing that you can't just start the day by waking up.
Looking around.
And saying Nope.

Because no one can stay for ever...
We have to go...
Or we are gonna get stuck like we're under a metric ton
We have to go.
so when he finally decided his dreams were broken.
He picked the pieces up and moved on.
and the day he was asked to perform on stage for his writings
he decided... Why not?
Better to try then let the pages rot...

And a week later.... after much planning....
He came on stage with another man. and began.
By pointing to his right eye.
And you heard "I"
And then he ended charades and began sign language,
translated gestures to words and made pairs of five to ten
Letting signs come up again and again...
If there was anything that would fit this moment
it would be this image and with a big word that was simply "Win!"
And when he finished he would want to do it again...
but this time say...
Eye as in "I can see the world from a different perspective...
But I am not selective at what will happen
But then...
my story is written in pencil not pen and it can always change.
And it could range from goodbye...
To The End."