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 Mar 2014 Breanna Legleiter
gd
Sketch a diary in autumn frost
leave behind a sorrow lost.
A night beneath whispering stars and
listen to their voices afar
for they may drift in colossal numbers
yet their words speak -
the words of the wise
and the words of the weak
for there lies a thousand wishes
so hopeful in brindled streaks

And at last they remain -
captured by the stars,
but freed from the night.

gd
I came across this in one of my old journals dated: June 16th, 2011
How provocative can I get?
People always tell me
My brain and my mouth don't connect.
I have a good head on my shoulders
Or so they think
And an unlucky case of
"Foot-in-mouth" syndrome.

The awkward first impressions are the best.
I'm pretty good with adults
As long as they can hold a conversation with me
Long enough to break the ten foot-thick ice.

But oh, I'm smart
That's what they call it now?
******* my life up
Throwing everything that has been given to me away
For a boy, a dream, a utopia?
That's smart?
I think not.

Sexcapades never go so swimmingly
With men ranging in age
A mouth like a cannon on me
Spewing curse words around authoritative figures
Never leaving anything to imagination
Being too blunt
Speaking first, thinking later?

They call me provocative
As if it is a problem.
Well, if I'm a problem
Then count me in.
You blame me for it all.
Everything you have been through
All of your failed attempts at perfection
The fact that your family is falling apart
The reason why I am not your description
Of what a woman should act like.
You think I should be submissive
Well, I am not so prim and ******* proper
Sorry I do not fit the bill.
If a guy even looks at me
You rush in like a blood-hungry wolf
Thank you for the protection
But I don't need saving.
Thanks for the expectations
For preparing me for "the real world"
But I know what I want out of my life.
So stop picking at nearly healed scabs
And move on with your own life.
Because this child of yours
She has run away with herself.
She is a little too loud
A little too rowdy
She wouldn't have it any other way
And neither would her friends.
The reason she is never coming back
Is because you pushed her too far.
Maybe one day you will regret
Everything you claim that you are not at fault for.
Boy, are you wrong.
Humanity is
Promised suffering
Infinite and delicate roots
Bleed timeless torment
And misery
Sometimes I feel like one of the books that sit on my bookshelf
Having yet to be read
Obtained long ago only to be immediately put away again
Forgotten
Lost amongst the others
Acquiring more and more dust as more and more time passes
And I wonder
Will anyone ever pick me up?
And delve into the words and worlds I hold deep inside
Fall in love with my tattered pages
And feel sad once they have read me cover to cover
Only to end up re-reading me again and again
Trying desperately to discover something new
To come back to me and flip through my pages
Returning to the underlined phrases
And reflecting upon the notes in the margins
Falling in love all over again
Will I ever become someone's favorite book?
One that will no longer be lost amongst the others
No longer long to be held
To be known
Will anyone ever love me so much
They will tirelessly read me over and over again
And never grow bored
Never grow tired
Carry me with them everywhere they go
Love me so much they will
Never leave me alone to gather dust again
Happiness is found
With the souls you surround.
A friend is not a friend
If they're looking to cut you down.
Life is short, so say what you think.
Feed your insecurities to the wind
And pour yourself a drink.
I'll continue to add to this.
A man came knocking at my door one day
just after I had prayed
for someone to take my life from my grasp.
He walked so seamlessly
there was a smoothness
and yet a carelessness about him
like no one I had ever met before.

Decked out in black from head to toe
he stood out from the others.
"Take a walk with me"
he sneered through a sinister smile
keeping a cynical eye on me.

We strolled along the river
and he held my attention
as if it was his own child.
I did not notice as people began
to jump off of bridges
switch out poison for alcohol
because he had my mind in his hand.

Once released from his trance
I looked around
shocked at the things I saw.
No one was left
no one but him and me.
While unnerved by this fact
a strange serenity entangled my body.

This man, his name was Death
and he did answer my prayer.
He removed the situation from me
rather than the reverse.

That evening, he said
"Go play little girl,
and show the world that
Death brought you life."
But there was no one left to show.
No one to tell.
Death taught me a lesson:
be careful what you wish for.

And as if it were meant to be some kind of cruel joke
he left gold for me in his boat.
We were reading a German folk tale today in class, and hence the love child belonging to my brain and said story was born.
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