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Quentin House Mar 2015
It rushes over like a lively river.
Flowing and crashing violently.
Destroying anything it wants.
Taking anything it desires.
Clearing a path.
Sadness rushes like the river.
Destroys you.
Sweeps you away instantly.
It numbs your body.
The cold water of sadness takes you away.
And replaces you.
With a dull, blank mold of yourself.
Quentin House Mar 2015
Is suicide an answer?
Is escaping the right thing to do?
Is answering life with suicide the right answer?
Quentin House Mar 2015
Warm, cold, rain, sleet, hail, snow. Fire.
No matter the condition I would always see you.
No matter the weather, no matter the storm.
You can't stop my love.
Don't even try.
A pointless effort.
But you can slow it down.
My heart is yours, as yours is mine.
But sometimes I think.
Back in time.
To the time with Kody.
I warned you, I did.
"He's a good guy.. Just misunderstood."
"Oh people make rumors about him."
If it's true then it's not a rumor.
At the time I longed for your love.
You had another. I didn't bother with it.
Just let my mind race on, my heart beat on.
Then one day. A 'Bing' from my phone.
"*** Quentin, what do I do?"
I didn't reply. Not for days.
I knew what you did, at the time.
I could care less, I didn't pity you.
You didn't believe me, so I saved my breath.
You almost went all the way.
I was shocked, broken.
Even if I didn't Show it.
Four years ago.
You made a promise.
Forever and always.
Well that always didn't happen.
To get on the right path.
You kissed another guy, then another.
I couldn't get mad. We were not dating.
But you've changed, I can see it.
I don't understand why people don't believe me.
**** your flaws.
**** your past.
**** the negative feelings.
**** anything to put you down.
This is not My love story.
But Ours
And it's gonna be great.
I'll pave the road.
Make it the smoothest ride.
This is not a slam poem in the slightest.
The girl I talk about in this is Emalie and as of typing this we are still together, and things cannot get bad.
Quentin House Mar 2015
I confess myself.
Give my heart.
And you reply.
Everyone has gone through this, and it *****.
Quentin House Mar 2015
I cry in your name.
I fight the emotional pain.
I sit; day after day.
"What is of this place!?"
A daze.
Trapped in it.
Crying all night.
I'm losing this fight.
The blade scratched my arm.
The feeling of my blood.
Flowing like a flood.
It's **warm.
Quentin House Mar 2015
From age one to ten.
You thrived in my life.
Then you moved out of town.
Cut away from me, with a knife.
To Oklahoma, then down South.
14 years of age. I don't mutter your name.
From my mouth.
We rarely speak.
But you tie yourself with my troubles.
Deal with your own life.
Deal with your wife, your 'double.'
I love you, I do.
You say the same, but is it true?
You don't even say MY name.
But when I forget yours.
I am the one to blame.
A few years ahead.
Now 16.
A lot going through my mind.
Then you call me, with your drama.
And your *******.
Wasting MY time?
I didn't know.
You even realized I was alive.
You say you still love me.
But that's just a white lie.
Quentin House Mar 2015
As a young Lad I saw more **** than the average drug dealer. Never in my life did I do any. But to see my mom without needle holes in her arm was like a gift from the God I yet to believe in.
At the age of 16 I would think back in the day I had it good. I was a free spirit. Firefly catcher, wasn't afraid of strangers, ran the streets with my mates at night. Street lights were my time to be back home, supper is waiting.

But then I remembered. Back in the day; **** was my moms supper, **** was my moms best friend.
To see a needle every day was as normal as the yellow school bus that would take my friends and I to school.
A trap house was mothers EVERY house.
She told me she wasn't doing anything, she didn't hide it anymore. My mom going to prison wasn't even a wake up call for me, my mom losing custody of my sister wasn't my wake up call.
I didn't realize **** wasn't something everyone did.
Back in the day....
I thought it was normal...
As normal as my life Was....
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