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 Apr 2014 Abby
Lydia
I am asking very nicely
And sitting very pretty
I am sitting in my palace made of words
And thoughts.
It is here my mind is at rest
Except that it's not.
It is here that I am free to think on my own accord
Until somone shatters the windows
Made of restful harmony
My mind is in sync
With my body
My feet know the ground
I can see no obstacles in the distance
And the distance is bright
But when someone sends for me,
My walls shatter
As if glass.
But who am I
To equate words to glass?
Words are so frail
So easily pulled apart
As I am pulled out of my world
Of free speech and free opinions
I am now clouded
With empathy
And the judgement of others.
The verdict is never in my favour.
I have learned to hold together
When my comrades cannot
So that I can hold them together, too.
Because I know
I can watch the stars from my window.
Whatever it is,
It is alright.
I will soon be back in my palace
Made of words
And thoughts
And this time,
I will lock the door.
 Mar 2014 Abby
Nameless
Drops of water
Drops of rain
Drops of blood
Drops of pain

Streams everywhere
Isolated
Connected
Colors of boldness
Piercing the eye

Rivers of blood
they may be called
Your river of blood
Has turned into a flood

Drops of water
Drops of rain
Drops of blood
Drops of pain
 Mar 2014 Abby
Emily Bronte
Love is like the wild rose-briar;
Friendship like the holly-tree.
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again,
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now,
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That, when December blights thy brow,
He still may leave thy garland green.
Ready to pummel that head in the way
Altering and destroying every decision that is made
The ultimate backfire that won’t let up
This brain is failing me and I’m more than fed up
Loss of major motor skills
Walking like the dead
Lights are flickering, in and out from the faulty wirings in my head
Hearing loud noises and smelling sweet scents
But on grass of a lawn, body is forward bent
Face first in a pile of dog ****
Such a strong feeling of confusion and can’t get rid of it
I get up and start to walk
In my mind I am sitting and smoking
Blind to the reality of my body choking
Hoping for a simple escape
These drugs never wear off when I’m in this state

Free, these chains of steel
Repelled any real emotion I can ever feel
There out to get me I know it’s real
In the world where you know my body is limp
Grasping for air but brain once again fails it
Merely seven more minutes of brain activity left, I am still trapped
Memories of things that never happened
Feelings of regret and relief are more than gapping
I take a slice of that deathday cake
Never ever knowing that I’m not even awake
Fake
 Jan 2014 Abby
Savannah
16 years
 Jan 2014 Abby
Savannah
Sitting alone, I start to think
What could this life really be?
Rainbows
And
Butterflies
Every little girls dream….
Snowflakes
And
Angels
Is that what it means?
But that’s not what I see,
Could it just be me?
Rainstorms
And
Bumblebees
Years of dreams not meant to be…
Blizzards
And
Nightmares
What could this mean?
Have I simply grown up?
Or is it bigger than that?
It’s not fair,
It’s not right.
Im still too young to fight this fight
16 years
To live
To survive,
Still just a baby in most people’s eyes
Caught in these ropes
Of lies
And fear
Can anyone around me even hear?
16 years
To fail
To mess up
Results in 16 years way too much.
 Jan 2014 Abby
Amanda
Where?
 Jan 2014 Abby
Amanda
Where exactly does my words go?
What happens to them in this starry, messy universe, we call home?

Sometimes, they etch themselves on the little edges of your heart.
Other times, they remain an incessant tune in someone's ear.
Its notes silently whittle away an unwanted scar.

The flitting alphabet of their voice behind your eyelids even when the dark envelopes you.
Sometimes, it fits safe and sound between the lines of your very fingerprint.

Others sink, permeate through your very skin, making a home out of you.

The artfully crafted letters, hemmed with that moment.
It lives and breathes in the sweet pockets of something we call
memory.
Hi there! x

I am rather curious to know how you wonderful writers get your inspiration from? Do tell, please! *wink*
 Jan 2014 Abby
Aarya
If colors
were
drugs
black
   would be
the
only
beautiful reality
and
white would
be a
numb dream
and
pink
would be
a shade of
mold
and grey
would
be my light
and red
would only
scream and yell
terrible
terrible
terrible
reminders
and laugh at me
from the golden frames
of long paintings
and blue
would whisper
a cold lullaby
into my
soft
ear
and green
would be
only a
chemical
and
brown would be my
pity
and be
so
so
so
sorry
it covered me
yet would
remind me
we were
all
a bunch
of
nothings
and yellow
would only
make me
completely hollow
and black
would cradle me
and rock
me gently to sleep
in its arms,
my drug.”
 Jan 2014 Abby
Kayla White
Crash
 Jan 2014 Abby
Kayla White
Numb.
A feeling hard to explain.
Like a heart breaking, a life being taken and a love in the making.
It happened with a crash.
I saw stars, shining.
I saw my life, flashing.
Then silence broke.

Reality.
A reminder, a painful realization.
Reality set in, blood seeped out.
Sirens came, closer and closer, farther and farther.
I felt so far away.

Alone.
Separate, apart, isolated.
So many sounds, words, yelling, screaming.
The dark sky surrounded by faces; so unfamiliar.

Silence.**
As I fall asleep.
I fall.
fall.
fall.
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