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When everything I knew comes crashing down
When every night I can't sleep
When I want to burn and shred my skin off
When it feels like I'm a human voodoo doll
when I shut down
When my mind wont have any motivation
When my past decides to come beat me up again
When I believe the lies I tell myself
When I run from everything that is good
When I let others abuse and use me, just so I'm not alone
When I let the dark thoughts win for a moment or two
When I just want to sit and cry
When I want to put down my armor

How can I tell you
everything wrong with me
and still expect you to believe me
when I say
"I'm fine?"
To admit I don't like the company
that I like the way I have things
The i don't want to share
That I don't agree
That I have problems
that I want help
that I want to love
that I need support
that I am tired
that I need sleep
that I still long for you

oh it would be easy to say everything i feel
but instead
all you hear is the silence a still mouth makes.
The bed is still
The room cold
Everything asleep
But the mind
Who longs for another
"Hey"
"Miss you"
"Hope your doing alright"
"Its been a while since we've talked"
"Hey saw you were online"
"Heard from our friend you got a new job"
"How is family"
"Hope your happy"

"Still love you incase that matters."
"Hope you think of me like I do you"
"Wish you were here"
"Miss you, still"
The process begun
Concept of one

But fate and life
And small cries
Changed the motion

With ease and comfort
Pain dulled
And harsh hands turned to those of pleasure

The concept now changed
Settling for two instead of one
A spark of hope
A spark of life

A safe place to rest
After a nasty fall

The doctors tried
But we're unable to bring you off that cliff
That blue urn
Forever holding your gold flecked soul,

A quite night
Silent tears shed

Perhaps this was all the plan

One became two
Jokes about the intensity of drink begin

But in truth
Was this the plan all along
So that one is not passed over in the window?
Short story about 3 little kittens and how they came to be.
Onyx, 12 week who will never be forgotten
Henry Morgan and Cappacino, 13 weeks who will get to play all night long together
Your eyes cut
The coldness you produce
You look at life like it's a game
Like you want to master a poker face

So still you stand
Eyeing everyone else
Your careful words
Like knives in the heart

But when your walls crumble
Your defense down
By God's the sound of your voice becomes warm
So bright and exciting
And you act like you did back then

Why did you chance
Why did you become cold?

"Because I had to live through my own breaking, to understand why when I looked at you
Through your lovely deep brown eyes
Why their was always cracks I could never make go away
I understand them now....."
A simple idea
Turned into a yearly tradition
A celebration unknown

All plastic
Just the preserve the concept
The vase changing every few

"Who gave you so many roses, and why are they purple?"
"I bought one every year"
"Why?"
"Cause at least someone celebrates a birthday."
"Who's?
"A old friends"


The next year
There was a real blue rose amongst the bouquet of purple
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