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 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
Amaya Danzy
The last breath is always the hardest
it literally ruptures inside you
and forces its way out.
Making you explode in a million tiny pieces
pieces that will never be restored,
pieces that will cut others like glass
only leaving sorrow in their wake.

The end is alway peaceful for those going,
it is the ultimate battle for those who stay.
as you travel on to a better place
we are left here wondering what to do.
wondering why such a thing has to happen.
but you know, as you always have
death is not something to grieve
it is something to strive for
in death all the miracles of the world are discovered;
any question you ever wanted answered is right at your finger tips
and here is the kicker,
It is exactly what you dreamed it would be.

Your childhood fantasies playing out
right in front of you.
You are now the master of the universe.
For a moment you can’t help but think,
is death really the wonder you thought?
Emotional turmoil has taken its toll and turned you grey
A hospital isn't a home
There's no room for emotions - and no space to cry
A hospital isn't a home
There's no hugs and kisses - and no one knows why

A hospital isn't a home
And does anyone really care
A hospital isn't a home
But I can't be anywhere but here
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
Gwen
WHY
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
Gwen
WHY
I stand in shower,
rubbing at my skin trying to rid myself of your touch.
If I could,
I'd shed my skin all together.

It's been years and I can still remember the fear in my heart when I woke up
You took my sleeping as silent consent
Even though I was only 9.

I thought for so long that it was my fault.
I fear every man I meet,
I worry that he'll be just like you.

I still have nights where I worry that
You'll wake me up again.

I feel so used
So worthless,
and you ruined by life.

I stopped caring about my body,
I let others use me,
I let others treat me like trash
Because I felt like I was.

I stopped eating
and started to hurt myself in order to feel.

I still hate my body
and I still remember what places you touched
Where the bruises were.

You Ruined My Life
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
AFJ
Ms. Adeline
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
AFJ
She's such a visionary,
she pictures art where peasants revel...
had a near death experience, said she even saw hell...
She sees potential in me, despite the times that i fell..
she convinced me to keep throwing pennies in wells..
not because she believes in myths and superstitions...
but because she sees homeless people dig in after all the wishin..
So on a good day, i throw in a few quarters, she sees i care.
But im no hero i just want Ms. Adeline to be aware..

Everything she sees, and envisions she blesses. & Everyone agrees...
So i tell her.
Never take your lovely eyes off the world, please.

She promised me she wouldn't, ever since she saw God.


What makes her see goodness?, what makes her so kind?.....
if only the world knew, Ms. Adeline was born blind.




-afj
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
bcg poetry
Home is supposed to be safe
Home isn't supposed to desert you
Home is supposed to love you unconditionally
Home isn't supposed to make you want to pull out the blade
Hope is supposed to be comfortable
Home isn't supposed to require little white pills
Home is supposed to be you
Home isn't supposed to be killing me
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
Jeffrey Pua
Nice,
Slick,
Steady,
Unbuttoning...

She makes
Naughty
Things
So
Forgivable.*

© 2014 J.S.P.
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
Chelle Quezon
I've always admired
the hands of a poet
fragile, yet capable of telling
the most breathtaking stories
and writing down
the most frightful thoughts
in the form of ravishing metaphors
so no one really gets
how dreadful they really are

the hands of a poet
can take you to a place
that’s constructed out of time and illusions
the hands of a poet
can lift you up
and make you fly
they can take you to the only place
that they would call shelter

I’ve always admired
the hands of a poet
because they can form the letters
so resolutely
while the words are still pondered about
they can make words look
like they’re on the right place

the hands of a poet
aren’t as damaged as their feelings
and unlike the mind of a poet,
they age
until the poet can’t write
the beautiful thoughts down anymore
 Jan 2015 Hayleigh
Luna Lynn
i went for a walk in the woods today.

and i can tell you there is a newfound peace among fresh fallen snow,

and i can tell you the crows are smiling even though they await the spring,

and i can tell you the trees create a gothic illusion that all thoughts cling to air,

and i can tell you that although the wind blew the water was still,

and i can tell you that even my very own footprints could not lead me back home.

i went for a walk to clear my head,

and became more intrigued by the mind instead.
(C)Maxwell 2015
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