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 Mar 2014 Alyssa McWilliams
Danni
I've always been told I overreact,
so now I underreact.
I could have been mugged,
and I'll tell myself that others
have had worse times
being mugged.

I tell myself my problems are small,
because I know there are worse ones out there.
I don't have it that bad.

I could have been stabbed in the ribs,
and think, People have had worse,
I'm no big deal.


I've been assaulted and abused,
but I know people who've had worse,
so I don't make a big deal about them…

…at least not out loud.
 Mar 2014 Alyssa McWilliams
Danni
You told me over and over again,
even after you called it off after me,
you care for me deeply.

But tell me how that's so
if you tell me we'll talk tomorrow,
then have seven days pass

with only two messages
sent to you from me.
You read both.  I saw that.

Again,
Thanks for the text,
all of the ones you never sent.

Again,
Seriously, I did want to talk to you,
but now I don't know what I want.

You read these messages, I saw.
Twenty minutes later,
Read 7:27 PM

I send another,
four hours later,
Read 2:25 AM

Remember when you told me you cared?
And you had to convince me you were honest?
Good luck trying to do that again.

I won't let it happen.
 Mar 2014 Alyssa McWilliams
Danni
There are two places where I feel safe,
here, this very site,
and that room.

It's weird to say I feel safe in a room
such as that,
it's a classroom.

But it's the one of my hero,
so I guess it makes sense.
Right?

I don't know.
All I know is that when I'm in there,
like when I'm on here,
I want to spill everything.

I want to tell her of the
**** that wasn't ****,
but I know I shouldn't

because who wants to hear that?
And will I even have the guts
to use my vocal chords to say it?

Can I say it aloud?
I never even told her the real reason Kung Fu came to an end,
that ****** assault has been a common occurrence the past few years.

I can even see the awkwardness now.
She'd ask how it was but was not,
and I'd have to tell her how I let my innocence go, to an extent.
I said no ***,
but it went in,
his underwear being my savior.

I'll tell her how I'm leaving to the next tower,
because my roommate kicked me out,
even though she was the one who caused the problems.
I'll tell her that, no problem.

I'll tell her how my neighbors
are strangers who think they know me.
I'll tell her my excitement to leave all this.
I'll tell her that, no problem.

But how do I tell her of my assaulter?
I need to outwardly tell somebody,
and I need one of her hugs.
Maybe it'll slip out.

I want to tell her, though.
I want to tell a lot of people.
But do they want to hear it?
That's my question.

There are two places where I feel safe:
here,
and that classroom.
 Mar 2014 Alyssa McWilliams
Danni
I remembered today a recent memory repressed.
I recall how my scared mind yelled when it happened,
It is technically in!
Oh my God, it's gone farther!

It's technically not considered ****,
it didn't go very far.
But I felt things I've never felt before,
and I've done a lot of things.

If his underwear weren't there,
it would have been ****.
But his underwear was there,
still I felt my privacy and lifestyle intruded,
and I still don't know what to call that day.

This was the day he left me.
Possibly too much information, and I'm sorry.  Needed to say this somewhere.  I feel safe here.
We are the static on TV,
Wind howling through pipes,
Ice on the river,
Thick branches cracking.

We are the cold ocean at night,
Tightness in your chest,
Hail hitting the roof,
The empty silence.

"What happened to the other girl?"
I have become We.
"But where is she now?"
Still here; We are Her.
 Feb 2014 Alyssa McWilliams
Becca
She wonders
(more often then she'd ever admit)
Whether it might be worth it
(and she quietly believe it might)
To shuffle of this mortal coil
(perhaps earlier than she'd planned)
If only to escape responsibilities
(as she's dreadfully selfish)
And wonders how it is
That's she's kept herself so far
Tied to the ground
(Though honestly she knows)
Vanity, vanity
 Feb 2014 Alyssa McWilliams
Danni
Every three-hundred seconds,
she danced three-hundred more.
Every three-hundred seconds,

her head bobbed to music,
her foot kept a beat,
and her mouth mouthed a chorus.

No music played,
no beat pounded,
and no lyrics were there to mouth.

Her silent song played from inexistent speakers,
and her body danced to a silent song of chaos,
every three-hundred seconds.
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