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If you read these words and they are my last
please remember all the poems, that have come to pass
remember each smile, each tear and each word
and even remember the ones you heard
what a way to end it all
what a way for the mighty to fall.
Goodbye dear poetry, goodbye my life
and most importantly goodbye strife.
One more little sleep till the big one. One more night of suffering till peace.
 Jan 2015 CJ Hattingh
Zay
Reality.
 Jan 2015 CJ Hattingh
Zay
I was taught to never speak to boys, to avoid them completely, in order to obtain a clean reputation.

When in reality, I will eventually end up sleeping next to one for the rest of my life.

I was taught to never raise my voice, that a girl should always be quiet and respectful to others.

When in reality, I never learned how to stand up for myself.

I was taught that parents always knew what's best.

When in reality, I question their decisions everyday, wishing I had taken more control of my life growing up.

I was taught many things that I find to be far from real.

Each lesson emerging to me from beneath the false truth.

But I was also taught many ideas that still stand with me today.

I was taught to feel beautiful in my own skin.

I was taught to always be grateful, regardless of my status.

I was taught to love, to share, to understand, to care.

And it's lessons like these that have guided me through the darkest tunnels of life.
For a long time I struggled with the differences between the ideas that I was taught as a child, and the realities of life.
They burn in my bones.
They course through my veins.
They eat at my stomach.

Each and every one of my fears.

This is my life now,
All shrouded in panic.
Picking away at what sanity is left.

Muddling my brain.
Sharpening my reactions.
Piercing through my eyes.

Each and every one of my fears.

My world is nothing
Except a whole lot of confusion,
As to why the world isn't collapsed.
 Jan 2015 CJ Hattingh
caroline
someday,
i'll wake up and be glad i did.
something i need to keep
reminding myself
 Dec 2014 CJ Hattingh
mrs kite
My eyes aren't the kind you'd write a song about
         no deep lakes of hazel to fall into

My beauty is nothing that would keep a tortured poet up at night
         nothing to compete with the spellbinding beauty of a harvest moon

My smile will never be anyone's reason to hold on
         nor will my soul, nor will my heart

No one will ever wish they could dive deeper into my mind
         for there is nothing of interest inside

I will never create anything with my hands
so mesmerizing
         as to make someone give me a second glance, a second thought, a second chance

All I can offer is passion and naivety
         and I'm sorry darling, because I know that was never enough
I'm a poetry newbie, any feedback is appreciated
 Dec 2014 CJ Hattingh
Jordan
I hate you!
Because....
Well
I love you.
 Dec 2014 CJ Hattingh
writerh
purple
 Dec 2014 CJ Hattingh
writerh
i don't think
you realise just
how much you've done
to change me
break me
because even now that
you're gone
I can't help but feel you
everywhere

we were at the park
at 2am
we snuck over the gate
and I swear I've never
felt so free in my life.
leaning against a tree
you kissed me for the first time,
you traced my hair down to my
waist
and told me you loved it
more when it was short
because then I wouldn't hide
behind it
away from your eyes

one night when we
drank so much we couldn't
walk
you told me how you
didn't like seeing me destroy myself
but you admitted that you
loved the taste of *****
when you kissed me
(and the colour of my lips after you did too)


you carved our initials
into the tree we had
our first kiss against
and although I laughed,
telling you how cheesy you
were being
I never admitted how much
I loved it

I remember how much you
loved art
you were always
using the colour purple
you said it made
everything beautiful,
it made everything look like art

but now you're gone
and I've cut my hair shorter
now
just how you loved it
and I drown myself in *****
hoping you'll come and kiss me.
I've bought 20 lipsticks
to try and match the colour you
made mine when we kissed.

they cut the tree down.
and now there's blood
all over the floor
and my hands are shaking.
I've been trying to carve those
initials you made, into my skin
I need to keep us alive somehow
but ****
I can't get your writing right
and I'm starting to feel faint

I start punching the mirror
and bruises are forming
my skin is turning blue, green, purple
...
purple.
I keep punching the walls - purple.

I start punching myself
hoping to cover my skin in bruises
because then maybe I'll look
beautiful to you again.

like art.
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