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High School MemoriesHigh School Memories
My mind it soars, and I think deep, as I walk the college corridors,
Remembering all thoughts of past, the friends that walked my doors.
The days of old, of happiness, seem fresh in all my memories,
It's all but yesterday, it seems, the pleasant high school stories.
The times when friends all talk, crack jokes, and laugh quite endlessly,
And how the atmosphere we feel is comforting and merry,
The fresh reminder of the times when things were yet so plain,
Yet the times when we're exhausted and experience all these pains
The teachers, all the smiles and all the differences at school,
The moments when we laugh out loud, and all that was so cool.
The students at the back row, and the times when we would go
To places where we'd waste time and talk until the sun is low
The times when we walk unto school, and find that we are late,
From Physics class and we end up in quite an awkward state.
When all the practices, they go from noon until it's night,
Double-Minded OrdealIt's all about nothing,
And nothing about everything,
Content in my discontentment,
I refuse to feel.
Could I refuse to feel?
I can't fight this so-called
Can I learn to be satisfied,
despite the way things reel?
How come, oh, how come,
I couldn't be
What I want to be
Or is it, rather, what I want
Everyone else to see?
All I know is, I am just not
Who I once was, I am not.
Adverse ReactionsI get praised,
I get flattered,
I get teared, and torn, and tattered.
I get jammed,
I get jaded,
I get, sometimes, disregarded.
I get hurt,
I get stained,
I get cheered, I get disdained.
I get many adverse reactions,
From people of different minds.
I get different kinds of setbacks,
smiles, compliments, different binds.
Yet I take them as a thought,
That many wouldn't have bought,
People have their different views
About me--and about you.
Enter at the cue,
What matters is the truth--
It's no reason to feel blue.
For life's not really about you.
A Friend's QuestionsI hear him say, he is a friend,
He asks these questions in his head,
Why do I come home and cry before I sleep?
Why do I feel tired and alone I drown so deep?
Why do I search, why do I perch
on different branches, different nests?
Why do I cry for someone who doesn't even care?
Why do I step on traps, and accept what they snare?
Why do I feel fine, but I don't know, why is it wrong?
Why am I alone when I have friends who sing a song?
Why do I seem to say that I feel so okay?
But why do I feel like I no longer want to stay?
Why am I alive, how come I am alive?
Why am I loved, who am I to be loved?
I did not know what I could say,
Did not want to be a cause of dismay.
That is why I just sit still,
My mouth agape, yet words don't fill
The gap and silence in between,
The thing that has been missing, still.
I know it's all gonna be okay,
I need not any words to say,
Just trust and believe - have faith from within,
He'll soon get there,
He won't be misled,
He'll soon find answers
The Writer InsideI'm writing against my will,
and I'm writing against my mind.
I'm writing against the bitter thoughts,
that just might leave me left behind.
I'm writing against my feelings,
myself and my own ways,
I'm writing, knowing that I am not
truly who I am these days.
I've changed, I'm falling too far,
Yet I write against that thought,
I might think I'm a petty liar,
But that I would never have bought.
In my eyes, I might perceive
a tainted black in me,
But truth, it is far more
Than what we can see.
So I hold on to the writer
Inside my heart that guides,
I believe in the writer inside my heart,
The one who overrides my mind.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More