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the darkness comes as it goes

the dread however, seems intent on staying.

falling to my feet only ends up a ****** mess

theres no soft place to fall,

no solice to take.

...

there is only the act of hardening

and tempered steel,

though, when cold to the touch

is savagely barren

it can still in the heat of fire

take on the attributes of warmth

and melt and become something rather inept

though slightly beautiful.

...

what then, is there to do but reform our selves

and invite anguish and pain and then harden and soften again

till we find the shape of our hearts in the mould of the future

we once dreamed of

if we can still remember it.

...

and dread will be our constant companion;

the third wheel in our fortunes.

which was never handed to us in any decent form of fate,

but that in that fight of going anywhere

somewhere hidden in the violent struggle

is our often ignored love

beating its heart out for the tempo to temper

and

both beats to trigger each other in all our love states

simply to be recognised for what they are,

invincible.
My morning goes as such:
I take a shower
I brush my teeth
I comb my hair
And have nothing to eat
I sit with a mirror and stare at my face
So many imperfections that I try to pluck away
I squeeze into jeans and look at my ****
I don’t like the way it looks but, I guess I’m out of luck
Now time for the hair which I dry and I brush
Then I **** it with my straight iron until it looks good
Then the make-up goes on until my face is away
I try not to look fake, I wonder what you’d say
My lashes get long and my face gets bronzed
Now I stand in the mirror and I ask myself “What went wrong?”
Why is this me?
My stomach sticks out
My thighs too big
Too much muscle, it’s like I’m a man
Standing in the mirror I move and I shift
To the right, to the left, Why is it like this?
Every day, every night, every time I see in a mirror
I see myself as this
The ugly one
The odd one
The one that’ll never fit
The one that’s too fat
She looks like a man
She tries to be pretty
Clearly she fails
So, I find myself, standing in the mirror
Tears in my eyes, my face bronzed
What went wrong?
Feelings are terrible teachers

They’ll stress your mind
and take away your time
you will never draw a line
on whether they’ll push or pull

If you refuse to listen
to their endless lectures
then expect to have these
constant complications
with their code of conduct
and their strict regulations

Yes, you can and will skip class
for as long as your white lies permit
But you know you’ll end up coming back
or end up punished by a higher hand

Soulless, stress-filled, a vacant face
stares you straight into your little eyes
and from here, your life begins to lacerate
 Jan 2015 ishpreetdhiman
Alyanna
I could never tell you what was on my mind
So I wrote every thing down on paper
Each passing day with you only made things worse
Because all the things I was too shy to say
Became too lengthy to write in one sitting
So I typed them instead

Then one day you kissed me
And all the things I tried so hard to hide
Spilled from my mouth
And I dare say
Into your heart
Have you ever just sat and thought?
I tend to over think a lot. Or at least that's what my mom tells me.
I don't call it over thinking
I call it a realization. A realization of the mechanics of society, the world, everything.
A realization that while everyone goes on with their dull, ordinary, mundane lives there are people out there dying, missing, or lost.
People who are hurt, beaten by the ones that are supposed to love them,
People who have never seen a book in their life and likely never will.
People who can't read or write.
People who can't even remember when their last meal was, or when their next will be.
Those who are sold like property.  Those who are owned. And yet here we are, doing nothing.
Talking about how long the drive to see your mom was.
Or how your friend was rude
Like I said realization. But it's the truth. But the truth hurts doesn't it?
So everyone would rather give it cute name, put it in a pretty box and set it on a neat little self away from daily life.
You donate money to the charities of course
For the cause
Five? Ten? Twenty?  Put in a neat little white envelope and sent in
For the cause.
Then what?
You go back to your life, of course
And try hide from the fact that people are dying or starving or hurt.
While you talk about, what kinda of shoes someone wore.
But none of that really matters.
Some people like to hide from reality in different things.
For some it's books, movies, drugs, music, others bury themselves into work or family until they can't hear the cries of the starving boy, and the beaten little girl.
Others hear them But the ignore them
  Like selective hearing or a light switch
Drown them out with complaints and the humdrum of everyday life while another little boy is shot and another little girl is sold.
Talk about school, homework, and boys
To try and drown out the fact that we aren't doing anything to help.
That we are letting this happen, and we are a bystander to this.
To drown out the fact that while the girl dies and the boy is sold that we are sitting around.
Doing nothing.
Or maybe it's just me?
Maybe no one else thinks about the bleeding little boy and the crying girl.
And if you don't then I hope that this is your realization.
I don’t know what to believe,
“Have faith” He told me
Faith, that was seeing beyond.
He compared it to the wind
it can be felt,
but not seen.

Its a feeling,
what I feel for someone else.
My mind can’t explain it
I  can't make it go away.
What is this?
love?

I want to share it with her,
not all of it
just the good things.
Am I wrong to want that?

I think about her all the time.

What is the point?
What do you feel?
I don’t know the words to describe it
Do you feel warmth?  
Does it feel nice?
There is more,
so much more
I know there is something missing
no not missing
stolen
Something was stolen
from me
and you....

— The End —