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American Im Samantha, and I slay demons with my words.
Because your love makes me want to Drown I avoid all bodies of water It hopes that I'll survive But it's fruitless Because I've havnt got the control any more It's all in the currents
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Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Drowning Love
Trust is a fragile thing, and I am a fragile person. It's almost like hairline fractures in an ankle or a wrist, at least, that's where it starts. If it's not treated it gets worse, and sometimes never even heals all the way. But the moment you find someone who is the ***** in your broken femur, that's when you know your kinda ****** Because your broken, and sure they will help you heal, but you never know how it will turn out. I guess all this mushy **** is a metaphor for love, and I could wax poetic stanzas, but honestly, nothing is the same as just saying that you ******* love someone. Nothing is the same after you stay up till 4am and spill out your messy soul to them, absolutely nothing is the same. No song is the same, no favorite quote is the same, not even a ******* smell is the same. Because you know what? They will always be in every breath you take, in every cup of coffee you have, and in every smile you give to the boy at the bar. Nothing. Is. The. ******* Same. And yeah, sure, it's scary as **** But that's how life is supost to be, right? Scary and full of heat break and love and lonely nights in a parking lot, surrounded by friends. That sounds like it doesn't work, but it does. Your surrounded by people, but yet, without the one who makes your world go round, it's lonely as **** And sure, you'll drink and collect all the bottles of jack and fireball you went through, because maybe that just makes the loneliness tangible instead of it being the horrible black hole in the pit of your stomach. And it's ****** up, but that's what love is. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
I'm drunk and I love you but I havnt told you yet
Trust is a fragile thing, and I am a fragile person. It's almost like hairline fractures in an ankle or a wrist, at least, that's where it starts. If it's not treated it gets worse, and sometimes never even heals all the way. But the moment you find someone who is the ***** in your broken femur, that's when you know your kinda ****** Because your broken, and sure they will help you heal, but you never know how it will turn out. I guess all this mushy **** is a metaphor for love, and I could wax poetic stanzas, but honestly, nothing is the same as just saying that you ******* love someone. Nothing is the same after you stay up till 4am and spill out your messy soul to them, absolutely nothing is the same. No song is the same, no favorite quote is the same, not even a ******* smell is the same. Because you know what? They will always be in every breath you take, in every cup of coffee you have, and in every smile you give to the boy at the bar. Nothing. Is. The. ******* Same. And yeah, sure, it's scary as **** But that's how life is supost to be, right? Scary and full of heat break and love and lonely nights in a parking lot, surrounded by friends. That sounds like it doesn't work, but it does. Your surrounded by people, but yet, without the one who makes your world go round, it's lonely as **** And sure, you'll drink and collect all the bottles of jack and fireball you went through, because maybe that just makes the loneliness tangible instead of it being the horrible black hole in the pit of your stomach. And it's ****** up, but that's what love is. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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22
God, there's something special about Blow But I couldn't tell you what It's somewhat Unknown But well known How when uncut I loosen up Ugh, ****
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Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
Blow
this is just another ******* **** poem why just another **** poem? you sit there and think why talk about this so often when the economy is collapsing and children are starving and there's a possibility of a world war 3? but guess what ****** this poem isn't for you its for those who's souls have been tied down and beaten for those who have lost all hope for those who have been told that its "all their fault" to them, this poem isn't just another ******* **** poem it is their savior poem the one thing that points out the ****** up things like double standards and victim blaming it may give them the push that will break the ropes that hold their souls down this is the poem that will restore hope for those who have given up because society has given up them and tossed them away like a used ****** and I will continue writing other ******* **** poems until my mother stops telling me to not forget my mace until I dont have to pay for 500$ self defense classes, on the off chance that hey, maybe I wont be ***** tonight. until im not blamed for being attacked until my ****** is not pitted for his football carer being ended prematurely until I can dress like a **** and get home safely I will continue writing **** poems until I have nothing ******* left to write about
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Just another ******* **** poem
sheets were once colored red with passion and so were your eyes but the red soon bled out and the sheets were changed to a dull white because of accidental bleaching (but I wished they turned pink) because the sheets lost their color just like your eyes
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Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
The colors of the sheets
one time someone said a gruesome thing to me "i swear to god i will slit you open and drag you up and down my street by your entrails" people have told me to **** yourself, your not worth the space" "fat cow" "worthless" and I froze up with fear from the hostility and I thought "Where has our humanity gone" And I relized We lost it with our sisters and brothers over seas with the violence on our TV's with the routine crime in our cities and saying "its just how it is" our humanity has been bread out and society has created shells of once humans
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Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
Humanity
in-between heaven and hell see their faces as they cry out for help blue and bare as I lay Gods forsaken me I have no soul to save take it to my grave where the whispers will fade away forgoten
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Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
Soul
my skin was rubbed raw because someone touched me on the sidewalk without my permission one time I didn't sleep for a week because something in my room was out of place and I couldn't fix it ive stayed up all night wondering if all the doors are locked so I check once twice three times four times and so on untill its time to wake up the soaps in the shower are put a certain way if not then I feel myself fall apart Ill clean for days and not sleep or stop once so please stop saying "Oh, im so OCD!" because you will never understand what its like to have this crippling fear that everything will go wrong if one thing is different
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
OCD
I can feel the seasons changing the icy cold the fire in the hearth talking about Gods because they are not dead they live within me and my stories weave the web that catches them
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
Gods
I want to be a Teacher. I want kids to feel the fire that I do not to just say "Yes ma'am." "Yes ma'am." "Yes ma'am." and not question what they are being taught I want them to question ME. I want them to learn not to take everything at face value and to question question question and I want that fire of theirs to never go out
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
I want to be a Teacher.