i hate endings.
i'm not a lover of beginnings either,
but the story
the stuff in between?
it grabs me so hard, and shakes me by the
shoulders sometimes.

i'm thankful for our in between.
even if the ending is tearing me
to shreds.
even if the clumsiness of our beginning still
runs miles through my head

scene/after/scene/after/poem/after-
(YOU CAN RIP MY HEART OUT, I STILL LOVE YOU)


*i'll be that girl who always waits for the sequel- no matter how long it takes for it to come. i promised you always, i promised you...

I want to cry
My eyes are holding back the tears
As I read all the emotions
As I see all this hurt
I know so many people who hurt
And who ache
And this kills me
This world is so broken
And no one is untouchable
It kills me
Watching as innocent people
Get used
By other people
Who themselves used to be innocent
Until the day wen they were used
And its an endless cycle
Of hurt people
Turning around and hurting more
This endless cycle of pain
So many people screaming that they just want to be loved
And every piece of me
Is dying to scream at them
How much I love them all
But I've done that to some
And im afraid iv only caused more pain
So I'm stuck unable to help
Only able to pray
But the brokenness
Is eating away
And each day
They get more broken
And closer to ending it all
And I know that pain
All too well
That's why I want to help
Because I wouldn't wish my misery on anyone
And I want so desperately to protect them all
But I'm so weak
And there's really nothing I can do
So I sit back and watch this pain and watch this misery
And all I can do is cry out to God to hear these people
And to see the pain
And I feel so helpless
But I know that alone
Is better than anything else I could do

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.

In this world you're either happy or sad there's no in between

what have the fingers to say
with their anonymous scribblings when
I close my eyes and let them fly
thinking mostly with fingernails
on a chalkboard just letting them cry
I don't  outline my subject or have a theme when I
wash my hands stretch my digits out
let them loose to do their texting
watch dense as mercury on Mars from here
their words surprising the meaning come from behind
the aching tendonitis the arthritis spasms
those fingerprints on the keys of my worn off identity
I claim nothing
almost not me