My brother and I used to talk to each other in Shakespearean English, when we were young and had no friends. Now he's older, and he's had a girlfriend, but he still talks to me in Shakespearean English.
I don't respond
The graveyard dirt fills my mouth and the heavy granite holds me down, a gravestone so crushing that I cannot even give him a bow.
These are the reasons why
Summer days with picnic blankets and the wind blowing our hair in all different directions, but we didn't care. We were invincible, claiming the woods as our kingdom and the skies as our dreams.
These are the reasons why
A future dreamed but never fulfilled, a picket fence and 2.3 kids. Yeah, it was cliche, but it could've been mine. Could've been, would've been, should've been. Hot cocoa winter nights and piles of leaves disappeared in a single moment
These are the reasons why
And growing old, next to the dream I always had.Fading slowly, as I should've, not in a burst of brilliant light, blinding all who loved me. But you, you could still have all of this. You sit by my grave and beg me for a reason to stay, and I'm telling you
These are the reasons why
Possibilities slip through your fingers like smoke and I think, how could you give them up? You stay for the small things! Dime a dozen glowing moments that will fill your life if only you step away! Step away from that ledge, go home, live your beautiful life. But. . . Could you tell my brother something?
I do bite my thumb at thee, sir
-Nostalgia
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Please, Disregard
PoetryAn untold story from a misplaced generation, this is teen angst at its finest. These the writings of The Suicide Notebook, or how I'd imagine them to be. It's mostly going to be in poetry form, slam or rhyming. Keep in mind that slam poetry sounds a...
