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I Wasn't Good Enough For Him,                                    
Wasn't Good Enough For Her,                                        
Wasn't Good Enough For Them,
Inside I Stir,
Black On The Walls,
White On The Door,
I Feel All That's Good,
Has Fell Through The Floor,
I Do Not Miss It,
Nope--Not A Bit,
I Could Cry And Yell,
And Even Throw A Fit,
I Flunked The System,
I Failed A Dream,
My Skin Is Bruised,
But I Swam That Stream,
You Say Hello As You Pass,
You Think My Week Was Good?
You Think I Had A Blast?
When You Said Goodbye I Ran Away,
*Fast
ILY
shudnt talk to you ..
coz u my opposite...
coz u r moody...
Coz u make me sad...
coz u get angry at me all d tym...
coz u total dog sumtyms ..
coz u r d one who has kissed so many girls.....
coz u dun trust neone....
coz u don't tellme how u feel at all..
Or jus mayb I shud talk to u?

Coz Mayb opposites attract...
Mayb coz u apologize with smileys that makes me smile ... .
Mayb coz u cn make me smile even if u r d reason m sad...
Mayb cz I get angry at u n u laugh at me..
Mayb cz I cn b a ***** at tyms too..
Mayb cz I want to kiss u..
Mayb cz I trust u..
Maybin d hope dat u will tellme how u feel .. Sumday !
 Jan 2013 Bailey Kreutzer
Anon C
I met an angel
the kind I thought only existed in illusions
a shadow, a silhouette created in my dreams
the angel spoke to me
seeing into my infected mind
not nearly as pure as his
and he adored me for it
the angel shining so bright with love
I wish never to see my angel cry tears
surely their weight alone would drag the Earth from its orbit
he knocked me off my feet
in a bright light and whirlwind of passion
I made love to my angel
all the while hoping this is not a deadly sin
if it were though
name me the devil incarnate
for I can never stop loving my angel
I'm eager
For the day
That my eyes
Look up at me
Calling me
'Daddy'
I'm sure you never guessed He was with me.
At first No you never guessed that smell you smelt was me you're not at fault Neither is He loved you that's why He never left you instead he found me easy prey happy to be the one at fault the
one who should have kept her hands to herself and asked more questions instead of accept a kiss from a stranger whos eyes never meet mine truly
   I never cared after all I didnt realize didnt wanna pay attention to the ever so reality
    instead I pretended you didn't exist and him calling me at 11:30 every night was norm
  I was Wrong you believed even though he wrote his name on my napkin and took off the ring  
  So he could put it all away I was a threat to the fact that indeed maybe the love he felt for you is mechanically programmed into him So in fact its not your fault or his directly that you lost control and killed me in a brief moment I'm just a dead girl who keeps the two of you together now right
  with out this secret buried in the brush separation would've crept  and my mother would know what happened to her child He must love you
He didn't even  look me in the eyes instead He closed mine
Like some how I wouldn't hear the shovel scraping

*DeadGirl
A short story that explains it self
 Jan 2013 Bailey Kreutzer
kdugan
Today is Sunday.
For the first time they took me out into the sun today.
And for the first time in my life I was aghast
that the sky is so far away
          and so blue
          and so vast
              I stood there without a motion.
Then I sat on the ground with respectful devotion
leaning against the white wall.
Who cares about the waves with which I yearn to roll
Or about strife or freedom or my wife right now.
The soil, the sun and me...
I feel joyful and how.
My lover asks me:
"What is the difference between me and the sky?"
The difference, my love,
Is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky.
 Jan 2013 Bailey Kreutzer
BDH
Hunger is the cancer with a cure
bread lines are hiring open mouths.
The discarded pass with empty bellies,
an outstretched hand reaching for crumbs,
that never come.

Money is the panacea of poverty
prostitution wages are tax free.
When she opened her thighs
the world shifted on its axis,
AIDS was paid forward.
Play that on a Trojan commercial.

Freedom is an illusion
painted by white collars.
Section 8 homes are speakeasies
of the downtrodden.
Cardboard boxes are the architects *******,
and trash bin bonfires come calling me.
Looking For Your Dagger?
It Is In My Scarred Back
Uhh I'm Tired Of Being Backstabbed :p Alliances Change With The Bitterly Cold Wind!
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