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Sam Oliver Nov 2015
She'll never know what she means to me.
All my life of being lied to,
Treated like a tool for someone else's utility.
Doing what they told me to,
Them telling me that they loved me
As long as I had a job to do.

She wants nothing of me,
Yet everything I want to give.
She's never even seen me
In person, but it's for her I live.
She listens to me.

She listens to me,
Dear God,
She listens to me,
Better than that, it's kinda odd,
She hears me;

She treats me like a person
Rather than the the dog I've become.
I respect her more everyday
Than the setting of the sun,
Yet it's so hard to express,
Every second with her is fun.

She'll never know what she means to me.
Before she came into my life,
I wanted to end it.
Everything was so meaningless to me,
And then she entered.

She'll never ever even know
She was a life saver,
And I'm too afraid to see her leave,
If I asked to return the favor.
All it took was her respecting me
To find my personal savior.

She'll never know what she means to me.
Every time I say hello I want to
Kiss her, Hug her, Tell her that I love her,
But if I do those things
I fear I'm gonna lose her,
Then I'll have nothing to live for again.

She'll never know what she means to me.
Maybe it's for the best.
I'm in constant fear of offending her,
I don't wanna be her pest.
It's a constant struggle,
Staying far enough to stay cool
But close enough to keep warm.

But all my heart needs
Is a little consistency,
So maybe a constant struggle
Really ain't that bad for me?
Sam Oliver Jan 2011
Spill it all.
Let her know
Every gory detail.
Bleed it out
And let it flow.
It's you
She should know
All about.

Breathe through bile,
Gasp for the air
To form words.
Become open-hearted
And let no surgeon
Stitch you back together
Until she knows your veins.

She'll walk away.
You can spill your guts
All you want.
The people will just
Stop
Stare
And call a clean up crew.
Sam Oliver Jan 2011
Take Me,
Find a use for me.
It doesn't matter.
All I want
Is to be looked on
With value.
To be given reason
And Purpose.

Make me your shovel,
Make me dig for you.
Make me your sword,
Make me **** for you.
Make me your shield,
Make me guard you.

As your bullet,
I'd pierce for you.
As your grenade,
I'd expel myself for you.

If you need sustenance,
Consume me as would.
My body doesn't matter,
I am expendable,
I am disposable.

I, the throwaway.
Sam Oliver Jan 2011
“Despite all your love for your fellow man, God has gone out of his way to poison you.” I said. The man had been a wreck for most of his life, and the time was right to reap his poor soul. “You have gained nothing that didn't hurt you in the end.” A visible tear rolling down his face, his eyes stared, watery at the back of her head as she walked away.

“People keep speaking of hope and perseverance...” I whispered, his friend putting his hand on this poor man's shoulder, right beside me and offering condolences as I continued to talk. “...But that's what got you this far. Hope is the only reason you are still alive after years of torturing yourself, living amongst these uncaring philistines who consider themselves people, doing everything you can to better their lives, all they give you is grief.” I ended with a bit of a chuckle. He shrugged off his friend's helpful words and separated from him.

“The Bible is an old relic. Judging by your life thus far, do you really think he'd make a place for you in his Heaven?” He stood on a bridge, staring out into the night sky. Even the stars and the moon would not shine on his this cloudy night... What a perfect time to hit him where it hurt... “You aren't worthy. You were born ugly, you have been battered and bruised by everyone you have ever loved, despite many of them claiming the same love of you.” I said. The man had struggled all his life to be loved and this, his twentieth failed attempt, was sure to be his last, the final straw in a life of suffering at the hands of others. Doubtless, he was remembering those many nights where things had looked joyful, only to deceive him of the troubles ahead.

“God has done nothing if not lied to you your whole life. He's taken away all your joy! He's taken your will to laugh, to enjoy the simple things!” I continued, a smug grin spreading across my lips as he walked towards downtown. “Is this the kind of God who would grant you a place among angels? Surely not.” He walked into a pawn shop, his eyes scanning through the armaments laid out before him. Fortunately for me, this day had been a long time coming, and he had previously applied for a  license. He picked out the cheapest pistol available and a small box of rounds. “You are not human in the eyes of men or God and thus, you cannot be saved.” He smiled a fake smile and waved a goodbye to the store owner as he made his way back out. He turned into the first empty back alley he could find.

He rifled through his items, readying the gun in one hand, one of the bullets in the other. His whole body shook in fear and nervousness. “So, lift the cannon,” He held the gun at about chest-height. “Load the charge,” He slid the chamber back to where he could manually load the single shot and slipped it in. “**** it.” He put the chamber back in place, so the gun could properly do its job. “Take it to your 'holy temple'.” He broke out in loud sobs, using his thumb to pull back the hammer.

“Pull the trigger and let the peace of nothing wash over your poor animal soul.” The deed was done. The man no longer suffered the slings and arrows of this world. Instead, he would dangle forever in the halls of Hell from the trees of tristitia...
Sam Oliver Jan 2011
To say I am
Against the wall
Is so cliche.
I am against two.

Cornered by society
And it's influence on people.
Women are manipulative beasts,
Men only exist for carnal pleasure,
And here I am blocked on either side.

What does love
Mean to the world?
For some,
It is lust,
For others,
Merely a word of appreciation.

For me,
It is a word of deep devotion.
I would die before I ever misuse it.
So why is it
That all around me,
People commit an infinite cycle of suicide,
Killing their own souls
With the killing of such value?
Sam Oliver Jan 2011
I love you.
You make me smile,
You compliment my abilities
And you make me feel special,
Worthwhile.
When I'm with you,
I feel ecstatic and joyful.
Anything you want,
I am here to do.

------

I hate myself.
No-one else around,
I tear apart my own features,
I make me feel hideous,
Worthless.
When I'm with myself,
I feel barren and lifeless.
Anything that will bring you back,
I am here to do.
Sam Oliver Jan 2011
Its hardly a secret.
I have done more for others
Than has ever been done for me.
While I volunteered to do your deeds,
You sat back in wait,
Offering shallow 'thank you's
When I returned.
A job well done, I guess.

You complain about
A harsh life,
Filled with trouble,
Filled with strife,
While sitting still
Fully tended by me.

Never do you hear me
Moan or whine.
My poems have
That light to shine.

I need not say a word.

My smiles are all fake,
Caused by the trickery
Of these miserable women.
They give me momentary appreciation
For a lifetime of service...

But I am too loyal to ever say no.
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