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Fingers do a resolute tap, tap
on leather sofa arm.
Eyes shift upwards as
she enunciates each word
“I should have screamed
more.”

No longer does she live
like furniture
in a summer home,
hidden and covered
except when needed.

Newborn screams pierce
her coverings
and erupt, signaling
an end to her pretense.

Weary of repairing
other’s battered armor,
she hammers out
her own dents.
* for a friend, inspired by a friend.
 Mar 2014 Mad Jones
Jessica Leigh
I was right when I said that I could never draw the ones I love. Because I can't get your eyes right and your lips aren't the ones I miss. No, I cannot draw the people I love.
 Mar 2014 Mad Jones
Jessica Leigh
I think
The medicine
Is causing me
To want to die
Because I really
Don't want to die
I want to live
But my hands
Only allow
Me to cut
Open my skin
On my wrist
Where
In a second
I almost go
Too deep
And it doesn't
Scare me.
 Mar 2014 Mad Jones
Xyns
Thank you for breaking me
And making me
A better me

Thank you for hurting me
And making me
A stronger me

Thank you for shooting me
And making me
Bulletproof

Thank you for burning me
And making me
Fireproof
This is an older poem. Things have changed since then. But this poem is highly relative to a lot of people and I liked it well enough so I posted it.
 Mar 2014 Mad Jones
b for short
If you often have
great *** and are good with words,
pen that **** for all.
© Bitsy Sanders, March 2014
 Mar 2014 Mad Jones
Mary R Short
It's only a dream
I'm no foolish girl
I will have to wake up
Eventually

The problem with dreams
As soon as you wake up
It's over

You can dream again
But it won't be me

Maybe I'm wishing
Just this once
Dreams could come true
But if I did
I would never tell you
 Mar 2014 Mad Jones
Mr Vampire
A burning sunset
Waving trees
The sky cries
but let nothing dampen the mood
This world, my existence
has been replaced
by the warmth
of you in my arms
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