Molly,
you never needed to study in school,
things just came to you,
so trigonometry was easier than tools for you,

Molly,
how the boys would tease you,
how you couldn't use tools very well,
but you had your brain,
and they really did not.

Molly,
how smart were you,
trading math lessons,
for help with your mechanics,
the boys soon loved you,

Molly,
How you saved the boys,
and how they saved you,
how you were lucky to never have to fight,
side by side with them,

Molly sweet Molly,
how you cried later on about the day you had to learn to use a gun,
the reason you signed up for the navy was to never have to hold one,
but they made you hold a gun, aim, shoot, and fire down the range,
next to the boys who all had to **** it up & keep a straight upset face.

Molly sweet Molly,
how you were happy as can be,
when shooting targets,
and holding guns when away,
and never came back.

and Molly,
how you finally where done,
made your commitment to america,
and flying home on the plane in your navy uniform,
america won a fight somewhere,

so Molly,
everyone wanted to buy you,
a drink,
your first drink,
in a long while.

I wanted to help,
but,
People need more than words.

It didn't start with blades,
It started with panicked hands of third grade,
going into my mouth,
To rip my teeth out,
a mute daughter,
not even wanting her compassionate and loving father,
Just waiting for the day,
To take her pain away,
And see he would be the one to find her body,
at the bottom of the deck she leaped to the ground from,
but she saw and heard his tears,
watched him carry her up the hill,
watched her daddy take her to the hospital,
to be relived to see she had a broken leg,
and to think it was an accident,
and she fell,
the daughter felt well,
but she still had a problem she couldn't fix,
and that was living,
and her mother,
who yelled and yelled,
that was the winter the girl stopped eating,
that was when the hospital became a second home,
the better parent of the divorce,
she got out of school,
for being a wrack,
looked so sick like she was a corps,
she was though,
he mother still hated her,
her daddy still prayed for her,
all because the school let everyone pick on her,
the students,
the teachers,
no one gave her any relief,
and neither parent could seem to get,
that there daughter was getting beat,
but her mother thought the way to deal with things,
was to hit,
and the girl learned that's what happens,
when your bad,
to the people you love,
and all she saw was how she hurt her daddy,
but she thought her mom deserved to get hit too,
because she didn't do anything but argue,
years later the girl got older,
got over these things,
thought things would be better,
she was still hurting herself in so many ways,
she met a boy,
who treated her with nothing but love,
he took her for a walk down her past,
made her want to love him,
like she never could love her parents,
she let him do what ever he said,
he hit her,
sometimes she would hit back,
like she always wanted to do,
but she learned quickly,
it would only make things worse,
to her this was normal,
at home,
with him,
nothing was wrong,
til the day he forced her to be naked,
tricked her,
with his little charm,
made himself seem like he cared,
said things no one ever had,
and then ****** her,
with no care,
no matter how much she cried,
no matter how much she was already crying,
he didn't care,
but she though he did,
she though this is what happens,
and let it,
with out speaking,
like old times,
she eventually left him,
over a fight he had with her in front of her friends,
she didn't figure out what he did was wrong,
what her parents were doing was wrong,
how this all made her personality disorder worse,
how what the school had done was enough,
and this put me over the top,
I broke down,
threw things,
I have never thrown things,
and this person sat there watching me,
freak out,
and I cried,
and cried,
ripping my hair out,
bitting off my whole nails,
and it wasn't Until I grabbed a pen from her desk,
that when she got up,
to call me an ambulance,
and I drew on my arm,
every ones name,
of people who had been doing these things to me,
and I filled both arms,
I took the pen,
and I sliced strait down once on each side,
laid down,
and cried,
til they too me away,
and then when they came to see me in the ER,
I couldn't remember what I had done,
And she showed me,
A security copy of my panic attack,
and I cried,
because that wasn't the me I knew,
and she pronounced,
I was suffering from so very extreme,
Post Traumatic Stress,
Or PTSD,
and I looked at her funny,
because I had never been in war
and she giggled,
almost ****** herself laughing,
and said,
soldiers aren't the only one who get it,
and we can talk more another time,

Every day I wake up and expect to see the sun rise                                        
and see it set.                                                                                                          
                                                    And everyday I wake up and go to school,
                                                                                                 Find my friends,
                                                                                             And set our target,
                                                                 And when your group comes over,
                                                                                  All you do is pick on me,
But if you were isolated,                                                                                      
And I was given some security,                                                                          
                                                 You wouldn't think about messing with me,
                                               You’d be the one who’d walk around all day,
worried,                                                                                                                  
terrified,                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                       that someone
                                                                                    was going to insult you,
                                                                                                 every single day,
So when I wake up and see the sun rise,                                                          
And at the end of the day you wait for it to set,                                              
                                                                      what would my world look like,
                                                                  if the sun never went down again?

My nostalgic mood,
does not help in getting myself separated from feelings of you,

My nostalgic heart,
is abandoned and can't restart.

My nostalgic mind,
Makes me day by day get behind,

My nostalgic corpse,
can't get its motions to get towards,

any kind of new beginnings,
because of my nostalgic thinking's.

I tried to hurt myself today,
to see if I could still feel,
but the pain is lost,
and nothing left is real,

I remember everything,
no relief from old ideals
just got to try to cry it away,
and still nothing feels quite real,

No bullets nor ballots,
could really fix my inner friend,
they hide away,
left unfound in the end,

Take it all away,
my blood and guts of dirt,
I can't feel a thing,
I can't make it hurt,

I smoke more cigarettes,
because they help me breathe,
Like their my oxygen tank,
and the weight of the tank,
is like the weight of my depression,
I'm to week to drag my tank of depression,
it weighs down on me like i'm trapped in chains,

Lately the cigarettes can't numb the pain,
I've turned to drinking,
basically anything,
that will clear my mind,
every drug that can sweep my brain clear of the dust of the past,
never lasts long enough,

It just wears off,
and I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders,
I cry because there is too much weighing on me,
I can't lose any of the baggage,
I just begin to crumble and fall,

so I get numb again,

hit.
with open *fists.

like *maybe,

you're open,
to *stop,

You seem to hurt my heart,                                                          
­Repetitively,                                                    ­                              
and the doctors say:                                                             ­         
                                       "They can’t bandage a word broken heart,"
   "When the bandage won’t  be able to fix me,"                              
This is when my body mutates,
Making it hard to breath ,                  
                                  Or really do anything,
This is when,
            My ribs,                                      
                 wrap around my heart,
trying to protect it from you,                                              
                               and while my lungs were unprotected,
and I was at a lack of breath,                          
                               ­  you seemed to take that,
with any happiness you could find,                
And I sat there,
        Shaking,
Then,                  
                 ­                                       Crying because it’s not even first period

I cried when you left,
Not because I liked you,
because I loved you,

I could of been with you,
but I had other plans,

My life became my own,
no one else was going to change that,
so I lost the ones I loved,

Because I had to take a different path,
a path no one I loved wanted to travel.

-------


Some say,

you can’t,

judge a book,

by its cover.



I say,

open

the book

and study

the pages

First.

I,
Struggle,
Day to day,
To,
Fit in,
Eat publicly,
Pay attention,
Keep my focus,
Live in this house,
Live at all,
But,

My,
Friends,
Struggle,
To,
Respect,
That I am another intellect,
That I want to be correct,
But,
They tell me,
Its something I'll never be,
And too see,
I''m a defect.  
Then,

My,
Teacher,
Struggles
To,
Understand,
Lunch is used by me,
to get my extra help I need,
That I'm not Bullshitting,
When I say I want to,
Succeed,
So Lunch,
Is used by me,
To bleed,
While you sit and read,
Claiming I miss read,
into what you just said,
So then,

My,
Mom,                          
And my,
                              Daddy,
Fight,
Hating everything wrong with me,
A daughter who couldn't of been born,
Paralyzed physically,
But Mentally,
Is causing them both to verbally,
Abuse each other consistently,
But,

We,
Still,
Go to Church every Sunday,
As a Family,
And Believe in a God,
Not Everyone does,
Because not everyone can See what he has done,
And then we come Home,
And the fights Continue,
And no one wants to be Home,
Because like God,
People don't want to Believe,
In a Thing they cannot See,
So,

I'll,
Have to,
Keep going on,
Letting the world kick me when I'm Down,
Because I've been down forever,
And no one wants me,
To come up,
just enough,
To feel strong and safe,
in this world of hate,
where our perception,
out weighs the truth,
The reality,
and the well being,
Of innocent,
little girls,
Who'd rather die most days,
then live,
because of a lack of,
perception.

sadly,
I know,
I wont be
your idea of
perfect.

I am the problem,
that why I need to go,

Polite
Typical
Smiley
Daughter

Pointlessly
Trusting
School
District

Professor
Turns-blind-eye
Struggling
Drastically

Packets
Turn-to
Stacks
Deficient

Panic Attacks
Turn-to
Self
Destruction

Pulling
Teeth
Sick
Design

Plan­s
To
Stop
Discussing

Peace
To-her
Silence
Disturbs

People
Talked
She
Distracted

Passed
The
Snacks-to
Dinners

Pulled
The
Same
Dimensions

Pre-K
Then
Smaller
Didn't

Pause
Third-Grade
So
Dead

Parents
Though
She
Drowned

Piled
Thoughts
Suffocated-her
Dexterity

Patient
There
Suffering
Depression

Problems
To-many-to
Score
Dispute

Progress
That
Shockingly
Developed

Potentially
Taken-away-the
Suffering
Dramatically

Poor
Tiny
Sweet
Doll

Par­t
Traumatized
Sleep
Deprived

Phobic
though
Sixth grade
Doesn't

Play
Though
Six-Years-of
Death

Until... The little girl, learned she had,
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.

We all learned,
the grass is as green as the sky is blue,
but the sunset and sunrise seems to make this untrue.

Now I ask you,
have you heard the tale of the sky?
I can tell you for I have seen it with my eyes,

one day,
there comes a time,
where each of us begin to die,

and where does your spirit flow,
into the wind,
into the skies,

like how your blood is blue until it touches the outside,
the sky is as blue,
as the blood that swims through,

when the sun begins to leave,
the sky becomes purple to grieve ,
this is where the blue and red blood interweave,

eventually the sky goes a rosey pink
and then when the sun has left in a blink,
it gets too dark to even think,

in the night it is blackened blue,
and in the morning it becomes new,
while new souls pass back and forth,

the sky you see is our life force,
transferring lost souls,
and filling the found ones with life,

the sky has many purposes,
besides holding the sun moon and stars,
the sky lives to serve us,

the sky is full of scars,
why on tragic days the sky shines beautifully,
to show us hope is not something to of forgotten,

so now you know the story of the sky,
and you will meet with it the day you die,
and the ones you love will watch you fly.

After all,
you may never find,
anyone like them,
*again.

I feel as if this world called earth, had made me come undone,
so I decided today,
that I'd sleep it away,
as I transport my brain many miles away,
as my mind runs for miles upon miles,
until my mind becomes my body,
and I'm at a beach,
feet in the sand by the tireless ocean,
I look up to see the sun,
as my mind makes me float like a child in the water,
but instead of water i'm sent into the clouds,
strait into the sun,
the heat surrounds my body,
my mind does not remember things like gravity,
and I sore away,
from this dull world,
I am destined for brighter things,
things where the people on earth wont crush them,
where you're never given false hope like an early snowfall in October,
as to show you that planet had no plans of a winter.
How come the earth is so bitter?
the earth doesn't need snow for me to feel cold,
as our actions have made blizzards we can't shovel ourselves out of,
and cries of children young and old,
from near and far,
from up here I can see it all so clear,
that we cause more problems than were originally hear,
if we could learn to let other ask for our help,
maybe they might of before,
but now since we thought we knew best,
our whole worlds become a mess,
and we have worse problems to deal with then a war.
so I shoot past the clouds,
into the sun,
knowing that help is an art of asking,
rather than controlling.
and until our world can master this art,
nothing will save me or anyone from falling,
when it gets torn apart.