I'm not the only one who think's poetry is art... right?
If so, I guess this'll just be moved to the writing forum or something.
So I'll just be posting some poems I wrote.
Feel free to talk to me or anyone else if you want.
These are gonna be free-verse because conformity to patterns and schemes is useless for my ideas.
Hope you like them-
Also, if you happen to be crazy enough to want to read these, I guess I can ping you when I get a new one. First few I already wrote, so I'm just copy-pasting those from somewhere else (to explain short time span).

This first one is pretty long, but I like it ;-;

Too Late

A girl and a boy

Sit together

No older than eight

Looking

Contentedly

At a distant field

Littered with stones.

The girl says:

"No one knows

How I feel

And I hate it.

My mommy

And daddy

Got a divorce

And now

Everything's gone

Wrong."

And she continues

To tell the boy

How everyone

Asks

Which parent she likes

Best

As if she could love

One

More than another.

She sees them both

Every other week

And gives them little gifts

On mother's

And Father's Day

Shakily hand-made

But sometimes having to wait

A week

Before giving it to them

Late

And tattered.

She never goes on

Vacations

Out of fear

That one parent

Will feel more loved

Than the other.

She points to a distant mountain

And says:

"That's where my daddy lives."

She points to the nearby valley.

"And that's where my mommy lives."

The boy nods,

Understandingly.

He says,

Calmly,

Serenely:

"I've heard

There are others

Out there.

Kids like

me.

I've lived with

My grandparents

For three years now.

They're nice,

But

They don't

Understand

The way a parent does.

In the end,

I'm just

Happy

They try."

He tells the girl

About the

Other students

Calling him

'lucky'

Because

All they know of their grandparents

Is cookies

Cold milk

And a fireplace

And his friends

Leaving him behind

Because

They didn't

Understand

Why the teachers treated him

Differently.

He gives his

Mother's Day and Father's Day gifts

To people who received them

Years beforehand

And he crosses out

The 'Mother' and 'Father'

Inked on them by

An uncaring printer

Mocking his situation.

He goes on vacations

But doesn't feel the homesickness

Because he's felt it

For years

And now

He feels

Nothing.

He points to the rocky field.

"My parents live there. I visit them sometimes."

He stands, dusting off his dirty hands.

"The doctor says

I'll see them real soon."

And he leaves

Without another word between them.

The girl stares at the rocks

Says:

"At least your parents are together"

And cries.

I'm never gonna explain any of the imagery in these, by the way, just a heads up-

Stars

I counted stars

And pulled them from the sky.

I carried them with me

And even in the darkest moments

I had them

To hold on to.

They were everything to me

The only things in the world

That could bring me hope.

I showed them to others

To make them laugh.

Even if the stars weren't funny to me,

I knew others would laugh

And I like seeing people

Happy.

I showed them to the people

I trusted most.

They called me naive.

They told me stars couldn't give you anything.

They took my stars

And threw them into the wind.

They are scattered in the world.

I know I'll never find them

But at least I get to see them

When I sleep.

Maybe they'll come back to me

The last time I ever sleep.

Supposed to all be in lowercase, I promise-

My People

some stand among the gamers and say to the world

these are my people

some stand among the nerds and say to the world

these are my people

some stand with the workers and say to the world

these are my people

some stand with the depressed and say to the world

these are my people

some stand with the crazy people and say to the world

these are my people

some stand alone out in the cold of the night and say they have no one

and finally find someone out with them and hold on to them and say

you are all i have



these are all people

who deserve the highest respect

just like everyone else

hello world

these are my people

No punctuation for the OCD-ridden-

Smile

The strongest people

Are the ones who laugh when they want to cry

And ignore their own pain to comfort others

They put bandages on scrapes

With their bleeding hands

And say everything will be okay

Regardless of whether they believe it themselves or not

And wipe the tears from the eyes of the lonely

Encouraging them to try again

Knowing when their eyes are dry and they find someone new

They'll only be consumed by darkness once more

But are okay with all of this

And don't complain

Because they know the pain

And all they want is for others to not have to go through it alone

Like they have to

They don't even expect a thank-you

Because no one really notices

But the smile on their faces

Is payment enough