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unwantedDon't worry i know i mean almost not a damn thing to you, and I'm okay with that- not because i feel the same way about you but because i never expected myself to be anything more. ~S.HP
How to get over it.Read it over and over,
Until it doesn't hurt.
Play as many scenarios you can,
until your tired.
Pretend that you don't care,
until you have convinced yourself.
Think about it all the time,
Until you want it out of your mind.
Extract slowly or quickly
until you have forgotten it or them.
By time.How are these miracles,
which we aren't even praying for
going to happen?
How are we going to win the war
when we teach our children
to run away and we shower them
with lies saying it was okay.
We make sure the little girls
know that skinny is the best but
they got to have an ass and breast.
we make the little boys know
that if they are not successful
it's better if they hang themselves
from and telephone tower.
We doubt out abilities in each other,
in ourselves, we say were never
gonna be worth it any day any how.
We say in the end it's gonna be wasted,
all the efforts we never made,
all the things we could of said in the end.
I think thats stupid,
I think thats really stupid,
if you don't like where your
life is going why would you
sit and do nothing to change
Every time the sun goes down so
does our chances,
Every time the sun raises so
does our chances.
When the seconds pass so does
When the seconds come so does
So grab a moment and run befor
all against me.I'm just so sick and tired,
at failing at everything i desire
I pick my myself up and climb up the hill
and fall all the way down like Jack and Jill.
I can see where i can be but i'm the one
who always stopping me.
Everyone is telling me to go with flow,
but they don't understand that I can't.
I know whats waiting for me when i fail,
i feel like i'm locked up in a jail,
waiting for my judgement to be passed.
I was doing well, then i fell off the track,
seems like more i fall the harder it is to get back.
I wish no one was involved with my failures so it's
easy to accept them and move on, and soon i'm gonna
run out of time, everyone is gonna know, how badly i
messed it up, it could probably be a reality show.
But this is not the way i'm suppose to go, so of course
i'm gonna fail, what did you expect from someone who
goes against the current.
flammable.Your stuck to me
like fire is stuck to wood.
I try to shake you off,
but you continue to burn.
I need help,
before you burn me out.
Some please pass me,
I didn't have to light the flame,
but I did it anyways.
I didn't think things could get,
I hate this feeling,
of self destruction.
Everything about this is,
I could just go,
but your stuck to me,
like fire on wood.
the leak in the friendship.We both wanted to be friends, that's why it lasted.
We both wanted to relate that's why we put differences aside.
We both met on the account of not knowing who we were.
It wasn't just me who wanted to be your friend
you wanted to be friends as much as i still do.
We were meant to be, this is why we had to meet,
But just because it was meant to be, doesn't mean it will always be.
because just like we were meant to be friends we were as meant to
forget that we were ever close, so no one would have to point out
the leak in the friendship.
it no longer matters if we go afloat from each other.
25% = 100%Honestly my life is good,
Honestly I don't have anything I can complain about,
because anything that goes wrong in life,
is usually something I can help,
It's not good to try and question the past,
but it's horrible when you repeat the past,
you know the outcome is going to be the same.
25% of my life is bad, while the other 75% is good,
but honestly that 25% has such a big impact that it,
Sometimes makes 100% of my life feel like crap.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
Today I will die.Today I will die,
It will be half way
I will look out
at the night sky
for the last
or one of the last
I won't expect myself to
It's sad the way that I view
everyone else, as though it
will be one of the last times
I will see them or they will see
me, but miraculously we both
awaken and meet, as though
we weren't so close to death
that we could feel it coaxing
our souls half way out,
hovering around us waiting
to tell us that we have died,
and then our eternal time starts
and never ends.
It's scary when I think about it,
not because I fear it but because,
I fear the one who ordered it,
Will god be happy with me?
will I be able to pass the
there is nothing I can do by then if I fail,
the only thing I will be doing is suffering and wailing.
I just want to be saved, be so good that
I am spared a punishment so bad that even
when i'm released the memory will still haunt me,
and it's and crazy because I don't know if I will
succeed unless it
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