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Y/N
We're not the clean cut
Kids in the back bus
Nike socks pulled way up
Football lights shining in us
No
I wanna stay up till three
Head down, slumped under
Water and face in the
Glitter and grim before
Yes
We'll undress into our skin
And show how to hold
Another drink of tea when wishing
The world could hold us warm
No
And I hate reality
But I really love those pictures
Of you looking so sharp and smoking
Sweet smells of fall, and our birth
Into winter
Yeah
I want to head back to
Amsterdam, London, New York, Paris
For some solace but even those
Safe havens haven't seen my face in weeks
Nah
So should I go back now
Before it's all over, and I'd like
To die again today, tomorrow
There's not another day left
For me to cry over my own mistakes
And downfalls, but I'll thank all the
Invisible humans today, and tomorrow
For now.
Another free verse I'm lame as hell as always
 Oct 2014 Bethany Duvall
dev
cigarettes and guns both have the power to **** you

the difference is some people prefer to die slowly
Tell me what's really bothering you*
Well, if you would really like to know
How petty and pathetic I really am
Then here it goes.

You see,
I'm afraid of being alone.
I don't mean without a partner
Even though that may be a long term fear.
But I am currently concerned with
People not accepting me.
Losing all of my friends.
Even losing myself.

Perhaps it stems from
My father telling me I have no social skills
And ridiculing me for it daily.
Maybe my own self-image
Has destroyed the hope that anyone could be okay with me
Because I am not.

Either way,
It has caused me to refuse any compliment that comes my way.
I never expect love
And luckily I am seldom surprised
When things do not work out.
Why would they?
I do not deserve to be happy.

I wish I could explain this to someone
How I am lost with no direction
No GPS or map telling me
How to love myself
Or how to accept it from others.
I cannot function like people around me
Because they probably hate me anyways.
And the mere thought of that scares the hell out of me.

So, as for what's "truly on my mind"
There you have it, my dear shrink.
And you can shove it up your self-righteous ***.
To be fair, I actually quite like my therapist. This is more of a directive at my father, who is extremely condescending and tries to act like he knows what he's talking about when he knows nothing.

— The End —