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What is it we see and so often despise,
when we view ourselves using only the eyes,
that distorted image inside our head,
the old snakes skin that we’d like to shed,

dare we look from behind the frame,
beyond the self-loathing, repulsion and shame,
our vesture is woven from the beauty inside,
so take on its mantel and wear it with pride.
I wrote this for anyone who struggles with accepting how they see themselves in the mirror, which is often very different to how others see us.  It sounds like a cliche but beauty really is what we are on the inside.
Black skies...
Blue moon...
Storm clouds destroying everything on the move
Bad dreams...nightmares
Then there is you
Your eyes are like precious jewels
Your smile so scary because it is so perfect
Leaving me to daydream thinking about you
Ignoring the the black skies that surround me
The thunderstorm that strike the ground before me
Out all things that live on this earth you're the only one that scares me
Because you're so beautiful
And I am me
Looking at the world
through acidic eyes.
Thunderstorm kisses,
pouring through dark skies.

Bands of rage and temper,
feelings all caged in.
Powder keg explosives,
blowing up again.

Black and blue circles,
hid under the cloth.
Red drips from my nose,
broken at all cost

Ripped down at the seams,
by every human thread.
Abandoned and afraid,
wishing I was dead.
Tracing the outline of your scars
Is like reading your soul.
The stories they can tell.
Just more parts to your whole.
Never cover them,
Do not be ashamed
Your scars show the truth
Of life filled with love and pain.
They are a part of you,
What makes you truly whole
I'll trace the outline of each scar
To better understand your soul.
For a friend.
You know who you are. :)
You broke the umbilical cord attached to this earth . With the south by southwest winds you rode a baleful streak . Like Poncho your life was left untold . Like a desert prayer that's just a whisper in the cold evening air .
Where they laid your body to rest , no one said . Now it's too late .
The virga falls never to quench the thirsty sands . The sorrow is planted as corn in rows of fertile futility . And dust is harvested , dust and tumbleweeds .
Reasons are the excuses we need to answer all the questions why . There is no reason in the south by southwest wind . And the tumbleweeds bend to the sympathy of an incessant desire .
At twenty one thirty ,
and far away,
she made up her mind
and couldn't stay.

Her pain was too much,
for her to bare
I tried to reach out,
but she didn't care.

At just seventeen,
she had been through hell,
Could not escape
her molested cell.

Nowhere to go,
seeing darkness around,
No escape for this girl,
only hell bound.

I begged her to stay,
she said go away,
Why do you care?
I bowed down to pray.

She grabbed the blade,
going deeper every time,
Slashed her wrist,
I cried and I cried.

A thousand miles away,
I am now in somber.
Why did you leave me?
I will always remember.
A friend just did this.  I didn't have any of her family members numbers to contact them. I am in complete shock right now.
dream, tired
wake up, tired
get up, tired
get going, tired
hi, tired
bye, tired
leave, tired
come, tired
sleep, tired
dream, tired
exhausted, tired
echo
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