Aww, this is hard, I edit everything, but the idea is awesome! Although I promise I won't edit this one, we'll see how it turns out. Also, I absolutely love these poems! Here is mine:

Untitled (for now):

Hey, wake up, you

That kid sitting on the edge of a lumpy bed

Sighing, kicking your feet back in forth as so

Do you not get tired of wasting away hours of thoughts about sleep?

Endless, gorgeous sleep, curls of hair against your pillow

Laughing as you dream of fantasies only your mind can hold

Yet here you are, slamming your hand down on that pathetic alarm clock

Kicking the wall to wake up your sister for school

Too exhausted from nothing very apparent, sighing

Wishing for it to be dark just a moment longer

And look who we have here

A bedraggled sister of yours angry with pounding feet

And now you are out of bed like a flash

Ha!

You should have your sister as an alarm more often 

Here's another one, but I am really tired so let's see how it turns out (it's 11:08 pm so…)

Untitled (or at least for now):

Poetic is a pen to paper

So beautiful in forms, like paint

Rushing across pages, stainings of war

Is it not a beautiful thing?

These words, we laugh, nonetheless

Call them hurtful, lifechanging, nonsense, and love

Uttered from the lips, signed with hands

Or, so the most powerful lays

Written with ink of your ancestors

From papyrus to paper, occasional flesh

Quill, pen, finger, toes

A story the youngest can tell, forever, smiling, laughing

To the oldest, grasping onto memories upon their death bed

Regardless, love is love, words are words, and when combined together

The whole world lay at your fingertips, exposed 

Interesting… it's so hard not to edit! I did actually go back and separated the last line into two :/

dangerous

if i said the word 

'dangerous',

what would you think of?

knives

guns

fire

water

sure, all those things

can be harmful,

but we must make sure

that our

minds

are not the greatest

weapon of all 

untitled~

you had never liked heights

even though you rode roller

coasters addictively, insisting 

that they went too fast 

for you to ever notice

that you were so high up—

practically in the sky. 

we thought we were invincible,

you and i

we rode the legends, and walked

away shaken, legs numb

but still told everyone

oh, it was nothing

~~~

I'd love some critique and/or title suggestions! 

This poem probably will not make any sense unless you know Greek mythology.

the hunt 

just think of me when

you see the evergreen, i

am immortal, but

terms and conditions may

apply

achilles heels aren't 

always physical, and you,

river lethe, are making 

me forget all that was

before

why'd you have to

open up my heart, pandora?

misery in the form of

a moth came into the world

and because of

you, we're holding onto hope 'cuz

it's all we've got left

maybe persephone ate the fruit on purpose and

artemis had it all

figured out. i swear,

today, you won't find me 

with a ring on my finger. oh

no,

i'll be chasing something just beyond my reach

alone, liquid moonlight falling

on my dirt-streaked face

orion,

hear me howl. 

~~~

I'd like to hear your critique if you have any. 

pandemonium (inspired by Bluebird's Disarray) 

i.

i fell, but you did too

ii.

you are my sunshine/ when skies are blue/ the sun is always there/ you will always be there/ even when/ skies are grey/ you are my heart/ the rain is my soul/ the thunder/ is my mind 

iv.

i can run/ so fast/ and so far/ i wish you'd come/ it's harder/ saying goodbye/ than leaving/ too many memories/ i can still remember/ can you?

v.  

i read a book once/ about a girl/ who had a heart of gold/ don't you remember when?/ i am made of darkness/ and shadows/ i am not light/ i am heavy/ with sadness, you say/ it's too hard to let go/ don't you know? 

vi.

time is non-existent

vii.

to whom it may concern/ i used to keep the stamps/ you said/ they reminded you of badges of honor/ a token of survival/ dearest/ love/ you would always smudge/ the address

viii.

i lost the address book/ but you wrote the letters on my hand/in sharpie/ we all know how long that lasts

viiii.

i still remember/ the scent of your dog/ it clung to my sweatshirt for hours/ after i boarded the plane

~~~~~

Again, I'd love critique. . . I have a feeling that I've accidentally written a love poem. . . 

Is this a fanwork? You tell me.

Last Dance

And then you turn, spin to catch

the thing on your blade,

lunge

but don't get tagged by

the bat. Thrust, step away,

swipe, swipe – hear the roar –

pause a moment and feel your heart

STOP

just to let it get a bit closer. Kick

yourself back to life.

Strike retreat strike retreat strike retreat and

it's over. Take your spoils,

slash, riposte, leap, stab, sidestep. It's

tough to see through the swarm,

tough to think through the beat,

the beat you can't lose because they

will not, won't falter in 

their predictable patterns

all designed to rip the failing heart from your chest,

a scream of song from your throat.

Easy, like Uncle Eli said.

older

Older, I think I'm getting

Older. Though I still

Laugh at my own jokes and talk with myself, I  

Stopped naming the voices in my head.

Older, I think I'm getting

Older. There's not enough room for dessert sometimes,

Older. I think I'm getting older-

No way I was too small to reach the top shelf! I'm a head taller

Than the marks on the wall. Older, I think I'm getting

Older. All of the things I thought

Were so profound before, I

Now think are so childish. Older, I'm getting

Older. I'm stuck in between

Child and adult.   

Gifted 

I am 

Gifted

"Gifted and Talented Education Program"

Accelerated program

Advanced for her grade

I am

Gifted

A heavy crown it is I wear

The expectations burden me- hah! Not so.

As tiring as it gets

I am at home

I muse, "how do they not understand?"

"All of this is simple."

It must be that they are not as

Gifted

As I.  

Exhaustion

the young scholar sits
curled, half-naked, in a ball
on her bedroom floor
with months of outfits
strewn in a pile like a throne
neglected, scorned

her head bowed
with the weight of fluorescence
in her eyes,
her skin goose-pimpled
in a last-ditch effort to remain warm,
the usual ways requiring
energy she does not have,
spent hours ago.

she has trained herself to shut out the cold.

her hair cascades
into the space between her legs.
her mind has become
a half-lidded blank, flowing idly
between topics divorced from
herself,
in a small bifurcated hellish place
where there is nothing
but the clothes, and the floor,
and the harsh bluish light,
and the convex hull of her half-naked body.

if she clenches her shoulder blades
just right,
she can almost believe
that she has spread her wings.