That is generous of you
to
request my insight on what you write,
please review my response with an un-ending mind.
So thank you but I must decline...
I read so much but mainly I just write.
I fear if I read your work, I would only find myself discouraged once again.
Understand that writing releases some of my inner pain,
It doesn't matter who's pain, why or from where it came,
I just have to let it out all the same.
It doesn't matter if it's for an injustice done against me or against another... I feel it all the same.                                        
For 1 example;
if the pain is about an injustice done to another then I don't question as to why they don't speak up. I figure I've had peace in my life, more than enough, to make up for what other's go without.
So see, I build up a little confidence, from time to time. Falsely convinced that I've talent in my own writing's & fooled to believe they would actually be of some help.
Then the blinders fall off when I start reading another's work,
revealing to me what, TALENT,
really means.
Then I put my pencils and my paper up along with my diluted ideas that I can help.
The emptiness swallows me when upon realizing, my words will never be read or heard.
They're not good enough. I write hoping to make a difference. So, I ask you, "what's the use in trying raise awareness for any purpose?"  
So yeah, then the depression coils within me turning into a knot,
it gets so tight that if I don't bounce to write, I might as well die.
In spite of trying to hold it in, my veins ink the blood out,
forced pulsating feelings and raw emotion's splatter into words.
I do feel that addressing one injustice at a time helps this world to be little more kind, if only for 1 at a time.
So, I'd rather stay on this same mirago round and not get off this time. I know once it stops, the pain resolves. But not really!
Only long enough to settle before it sour's
into depression. Recounting in my mind, I'm worthless, a fool, thinking my words could make a difference. At least not in this world much less for 1 person treated unkindly.
The mirago round stops and the world's the same. Nothing's changed so no, thank you... I'd rather spin deliriously, believing that I did 1 right thing, even if it's changing just 1 person's state of mind.
So instead of getting off to stand,
I'll stay on my delusional ride, unlike you at
least I'm not pretending to take a *ucking stand for what's right!
This is my answer in poetic form.
May God forgive for the profanity, at least it's not hypocrisy! Right? Oh I forget, the one's that
are in a postion are the ones who forget about serving for a mission,
they lack moral vision of what's right!
I guess then I bid you night.
#VenjencieArnold #SacredInkedBlood
#MyDelusionalRidewrittenbymeon
True!! I hate feeling this way. God forgive me if I'm wrong and help me to stay strong esp if I'm right.

Blessings, Venjencie © 4 months ago, new edit by me on ©09/23/2018 SacredInkedBlood

Cowards: Men who kick a woman(esp. after he's the 1 that drug her down).  You'd never suspect
it's the men with a good reputation around town.  If they're true & through bad they don't fight only women but their fist are enough for anyone who angers them enough... he'll try to take anyone down.
BUT it's a pure yellow-bellied coward sort that doesn't have what it takes to stand up to another, not for himself much less any other.
Lowest **** of all cowards are the ones who kick her like she's
a dog when she's on the ground,
  standing up over her like a tall tower,
feeling proud with
power.
If or when it's found out then she deserved it all. Oh yeah, without a doubt especially if she's already been down the abuse pattern route.    
When he kills her; appears justified because they say, she should have gotten out before she died.
But sure enough, it's a pure coward that'll kick
a woman & tell her that he should stomp her brain's out.  
     SCREAMING at her
     FORCING her to
answer his questions  when she's already too frightened to make a sound...
              knowing that no matter the answer she decides, it's just another excuse for him to slap her around, why? Because of course whatever answer will be
a lie,
I guess a coward must
be able to predict it's a
lie before any words
ever have to come out,
I guess she lied because she just wants to be slapped around.

Wait what's that sound?
  Oh it's death bells now
   they'll bury me in the
ground. Death is merely
peace that I've finally
found.
   ~SacredInkedBlood ©2018

"...Aaron?
What is it?"

                                                           ­                                             "Terry.
                                                                           I need you to pick me up.
                                                             ­                        I think I'm drunk."

"Drunk?
Where are you?"

                                                          ­                                 "I'm not sure."

"That's so helpful.
How am I supposed to find you?"

                                                          ­                                                      "I...
    ­                                                                 ­                                            ..."

"Are you...
...crying?"

                                             ­                                   "Just come find me."

"Sure.
Tell me where to look."

                                                         ­                                     "That place.
                                                         ­                            You know where."

"Oh.
Okay.
I'll be right over.
Don't throw up on me
when I get there."

                                                        ­                                                    "Heh,
      ­                                                                 ­                      I'll try not to."

"Stay on the phone.
What are you even doing
over there, after
what happened?"

                                                     ­                                    "It's all my fault,
                                                          ­                                          you know?
                                                           ­                        If it weren't for me...
                                                           ­                                                      ..."

"Don't go
silent on me, man.
And no,
it wasn't your fault.
You had nothing to do with it."

                                                           ­        "It should've been me, Terry.
                                                          ­                  It would have been me
                                                              ­             if you hadn't saved me."

"And I would do it again."

                                                        ­                  "You still get nightmares
                                                      ­                                     from that night,
                                                          ­                                        don't you?"

"..."

                                                  ­                                     "You still there?"

"I'm here.
And yes,
I do still get nightmares.
About what I would have seen
if I hadn't gotten there in time."

                                                         ­                  "You should have saved
                                                           ­                           one of the others."

"You're drunk, Aaron.
We'll talk about this
at the apartment."

                                                    ­                                "I'm serious, Terry.
                                                          ­                      It shouldn't have been
                                                            ­                                                   me
           ­                                                                 ­             that you saved."

"I'm not talking about this
with you right now.
I stand by my decision."

                                                     ­                                                "Terry..."

"No.
Shut up.
How many times
have you saved me, Aaron?
All those times I've
wandered off,
with no one who would
bother looking for me?
All those times I
woke up screaming,
who was there for me?
I don't regret my choice.
Neither should you."

                                                          ­                                             "Sorry."

"What are you
apologizing for?
I understand."

                                                   ­                                          "Thank you."

"What are friends for?"

h.f.m.

Imprisoned by my Addiction'

The harmless things that causes an addiction that consumes, like cancer,

See my confession, about how my addictions are destroying my health, my life, my relationships and everything in between, the beginning absent of odor,
Spinning around my mortal being are vibrant healthy hues; yellow, blues and greens,

Thrusting me, flying sky high, only to nose dive instantly,
Wishing it to remain, My passion, my comfort one in the same; words that must be written.
We're programmed to all 3, reading, writing and pursuing passions ...important qualities to own,

Somehow captivating me,
I hardly eat, much less drink,
I'm overwhelmed to express thoughts into words,

Another relationship dies as the neglected ink dries.
A pale unnoticed ghost while present or maybe not,
Maybe my lover, the warden.

I come up for breath only long enough not to drown, reality hits, the ghost disappears,
I don't search, seek or try to persuade them to return,
I say every time, just let me get these words scribbled to vent, then after, I'll go and gather them up,

Compares to Christmas morn, green, red, gold, silver and blue,
the house, the tree, the gifts,
The house is adorned with eccentric polished crowns of refined jewels, interest fills you while rushing to open the shiny gifts, Uncontrollable enchanting words, enslaving, shoving the gifts against the glittered wall,

Chained in the same prison 24 hours later, exhausted, nearly comatose, I wrestle the sleep, becoming feeble, compelled to sleep, only to suddenly awaken, lunatic mode, panic stricken crazed rush, forced sleep, words got neglected, when there could have been much more!

Welcome to my addiction, the dark hole where words incarcerate tempting thoughts,
What, change the situation, you said to me? I'm handcuffed to pens that bleed, beleaguered by enticing verbiage.
~Venjencie Arnold -SacredInkedBlood
.
My life now. Writing, reading and research. I cant get enough. © 11 days ago, Venjencie Arnold   addiction • colors • prison • word • beleaguered

"MISS CAROLINE"
Humanity is rare,
in this world today,  
        loyalty is bare,
just listen to what
              people say! Most people seem soulless,
hearts callous.  
In the woods is where, I
find renewing of my mind
                                        and
                    ­                  spirit.
When I venture out,
I take one that is loyal,
                        trustworthy
                            ­     and
                                kind.
It doesn't fit well with
me that as an animal
                   she is defined.
My Miss Caroline has
more compassion
than these humans
     passing through.
She could teach the human  
race; all about true humanity with
grace.
So when you've lost your way
and your head is filled with the
world's noise, then don't forget
to return to that peaceful
place with a friend...
more human than the human
race.
A friend like mine
that is loyal
until the end of time.

When i venture out,
I take one that is
loyal, trustworthy
& kind.
It doesn't fit well with me
that as an animal she's defined. ~SacredInkedBlood©