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I'm sorry
For all the pain I caused
The misery and hurt
And I know that you will
Try to protect me
To say it wasn't my fault
But I know at least
One time had to have been me

I'm sorry
I made you cry
That I ever said anything to
Bring tears to your beautiful eyes
I'm glad that I can trust you
And tell you anything in mind
But I wish that I could protect you
That I could shield you from all
The horror of our world
It's not that your too innocent
Or that I think your too weak
To handle our world
It's that I love you too much
And I don't want you to have to
Say your fine
I want you to mean it.

I'm sorry
I ever kept anything from you
That I ever hid a secret
You are so incredibly strong
And too loyal for your own good
I new that you could bear my burden
But I didn't want to see you try

But don't get me wrong
Don't mix sorry with regrets
I don't regret the pain
And I don't regret the hurt
I wish it didn't have to be this way
But I wouldn't change a thing
Because if I took the pain away
You wouldn't be the you you are today
And I wouldn't be the me

So thank you for always being there
To beat the burdens, share the weight
For trying to protect me
The way I wish I could protect you
And thank you for forgiving me
For always being my rock
And standing by my side
No matter how many times I messed up.
A person like this comes along once in a life time and only some of us are lucky enough to have one, I think of myself as incredibly lucky since I have two. Repost if you have someone in your life like this.
 Dec 2014 Gabrielle
Nat Lipstadt
Euphony* * the quality of being pleasing to the ear, especially through a harmonious combination of words; making a phonetic change for ease of pronunciation

Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock

Trickery, diddly, rot,
This Diddy's life poems rhymed not,
The boys and girls all booed,
Your poetic life thumbs-down *******,
Trickery, diddly, rot

sipped his morning coffee.
thoughts about mortality and mean
saw what wanted not to be, the unseen,
trickery, diddly, rot,
brain refrain, relief not,
the **** clock ticking,
the mouse laughing,
at his euphonious nonsense

he wept for being found out,
the noises in the house
joined in
all mocking with accusations
you phony, us,
you, phony us*



another work day ended as it begun,
or began to end
teach felt
herself
for felt
tipped pen reach,
inky dinky in the dockers it  flowed,
now I am red-tro-graded,
bold letter, no fading,
F
for failing
to phony us

slipped his head under the water,
but the words auditory
and most un laudatory
feared not a drownery,
followed him down
under
a bath poem
 Dec 2014 Gabrielle
tyler
I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it.

I wasn't mad because I got a bad grade, I was mad because what if I wasn't strong enough to look past his opinion and keep writing? What if that one negative comment made me quit altogether and never share a single word again?

What if he ruined my future because he couldn't look past his idea of what a poem should be?

A poem does not have to rhyme or end with closure or even make sense to everyone who reads it.

A poem simply has to reach part of someone's soul who had no idea that these were the words they had been waiting to hear and these were the words that were meant to save them.

This is what a poem is, not a grade from a teacher or a rhyme in a book. A poem is a method of coping and a way to understand the world with ease.

I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it. But I am stronger than he thinks, and I will continue to write poems that he does not like and I will continue to love them in spite of his opinion.
some days they are sad. sad about the weather, sad about the thing that happened last night, sad about losing their favorite book, sad about their coffee being cold, sad about the fact that they can't find matching socks. lots of things make them sad, lots of nothings make them sad too. you see, when you have a predisposition for being sad, every little thing counts.  so when you ask her why she is sad and she cannot answer, do not press further. do not go looking for a reason that just isn't there. when you ask what you can do and she says nothing, do not be hurt. do not feel useless. when she wakes in the middle of the night and she is silent, but you can feel the bed shaking as she cries, do not assume you know what she is feeling. you don't. hold her if she wants it, don't touch her if she doesn't. if you ask her if she wants you to stay and she says yes, do. but if she tells you to walk away, do not listen. stay with her, because if you don't, she might not be there in the morning .
 Dec 2014 Gabrielle
Timothy Stout
They still exist;
Both literally and metaphorically.
Little girls *** trafficked,
Boys slave in sweat shops,
Buissnessman works a 60 hour week.
Everyone's got their own chains.
Some we put on freely,
Some are ****** upon us,
like maturity on an orphaned child
--Some are cut into our wrists.
With every lie,
With every curse,
With every slander,
Pain built up creates inside
these fine little links;
Alone they are weak, but together
UNBREAKABLE
27 million slaves in the world
But that's just an estimate.
When we look inwards
We see so. many. more.
In the history of humanity, slavery has never been as big as it is now. Up to 27 million are inslaved today. But to help these many men, woman, and children, we must free ourselves from our masters. What is the master of your life?
 Dec 2014 Gabrielle
SMN
that friend
 Dec 2014 Gabrielle
SMN
I’m sick and tired of being that friend
the one everyone turns to and the one
who has to sort out everyones problems
i’m sick of being everyones punching bag
but i’m that friend who will always be there
and help you through your problems
even when I’m feeling like **** myself
can I for once be the one to be asked
if I’m okay?

*(s.m)
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