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Violence
need not be
a striking fist

A silenced voice
the lack of choice
violent acts
that hide behind
eyes
that cry
for the power
to erase

that which harms

that which prevents

a free flowing stream
from crashing into the
sea

The denial of hope
and the blockade
of dreams

Violence
exist,
it wont be extinguished,
it grows the crops
that feed
those who sit
in powerful chairs

Dare to challenge,
dare to speak,
you're not alone
for the
peace you
seek
 Nov 2017 Skye Marshmallow
grace
her
 Nov 2017 Skye Marshmallow
grace
her
you were my sun
the center of my universe
but i was not yours

you had different stars in your galaxy
a whole world that was completely foreign to me

see the name
that slipped past your lips
while our limbs were tangled together
was not mine

it was then that i realized
you wanted me to be her

but the thing is
i am not her
& i will never be her
antisocial, had-potential young adult
who dreams of a mind without fear.
she has a weightless body
yet doesn't see the bones.

she wants to connect
with all whom she loves,
but her emotions are backwards.
she is backwards.

for every bone on her body,
there is fat.
for every man who loves her,
she puts her arms lengths away.
for every tear that is shed,
she sheds again every day.

she is backwards
and tries to walk straight.
she is upside down
and tries to think straight.

what will the girl do?
who is the girl?
can the girl do wrong right?
can backwards be her straight?
i didn’t always realize it
but you long for a hand
to run across your skin
as much as i didn’t think
i longed for it
but when your hand
stretched across the skin
i had learned to despise
suddenly i knew
what it felt like
if flowers were to bloom
on the skin of humans
because flowers are beautiful
so that they can be loved
by the bees
but my skin never bloomed
until it felt your touch
and suddenly wanted
to be loved like a flower
before your touch
the only love my skin felt
we’re the kisses of the sun
leaving spots behind that i cherished
but after your touch
my skin felt more love
than it ever had before
but it had no spots to remember it by
only the racing thoughts
could bring back
how my hands moved towards your hands
how my lips moved towards your lips
how my skin moved towards your skin
so our souls would tangle
and a garden of flowers who long for love
would bloom within us
There's this wire I keep tripping on
the string that lays parallel to current divisions of reality
a plane of moments
strategizing time fragments that correlate with the general population
but keeps me cloaked behind a veil of
they call it
dissociated
the illusion that I cannot fully connect
my atoms don't seem to just align properly with the whirling visions around me
and I slip into the seconds of grandiose prophecies
consumed with the mentality that I will never be enough
that my moments will never really
quite line up.
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