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(She Speaks.)


I MEANT to be so strong and true!
The world may smile and question, When?
But what I might have been to you
I cannot be to other men.
Just one in twenty to the rest,
And all in all to you alone, -
This was my dream; perchance 'tis best
That this, like other dreams, is flown.


For you I should have been so kind,
So prompt my spirit to control,
To win fresh vigor for my mind,
And purer beauties for my soul;
Beneath your eye I might have grown
To that divine, ideal height,
Which, mating wholly with your own,
Our equal spirits should unite.
I’d like to name
My child
Peter
Parker

Then raise him
On Spiderman
Producing an
Intended coincidence

But it’d be
Alright
If he liked
Batman; too
(I mean it Ma,
Click back now
I’d rather not scar you
Or cost us even more money
On therapy)**

The first time I had ***
I felt horribly guilty afterwards
I can only guess as to why

Maybe it was because I was the ‘boy’
Of the circumstance
The one thrusting and holding her up

The one that didn’t get to ***
The first go around
The one to wash their fingers clean in the aftermath

While the ‘girl’ wiped up her nether regions
Put her pants back on
And remained in an ‘aftersex’ glow

Maybe it was because I was the ‘boy’
Of the circumstance
That I was the one that ‘took’ something

But whatever the reason
Is irrelevant because within days
This guilt faded

As did any taste of regret
Vaguely reminiscent of the
Taste of her ***

And replacing said guilt
Was love; strong and (now) poignant
Beyond my years

And she is gone; literally so,

Thus replacing said love
Was pain; strong and poignant
Beyond my years

Replacing said pain
Was another type
Quite common of my age

A madly bruised hand
To be exact;
Courtesy of my teenage idiocy

Replacing my physical pain and idiocy
Was another girl
One that could never be ‘her’

I cannot kiss this girl
It’s all so different
All so ******* wrong

I can’t stand her braces
And the taste of sour milk
That is always marinating in her mouth

I can’t stand this girl
But it is not her fault
It’s, to mimic a cliché,

It’s me, not her
And I am, genuinely,
Sorry for her


But I am so, extremely, pathetically
More sorry
For myself
 Jan 2013 Cari Jane Leemaster
EA
One said: It changes your outlook of life.
Alters your lifestyle somewhat.

Other said: It’s your choice. You can either do it or don’t.
I choose to be trustworthy.

I am indeed happy right now with what we have,
and what we don’t have.
I choose to be simply happy.

I shun negativities. I neglect those who are unhappy for me.
Even if they say that they are, I can feel evil and jealousy.
That is not happiness.
I choose to stay away.

I have tons of people around me who share the smiles,
the blissful mood and they too share back their warm hearts.

I am enlightened now. Elucidated.

I am not scared of choosing the right actions and feelings.

Letting things be keeps me up; Keeps me not analysing more.
Retains my sanity.

I choose you.
I choose to enjoy love.
I have you in my life now and it becomes fuller.
Makes me grow.

I choose to grow happier.
It is not me
I am not bad
These misconceptions
Make me mad

The media frenzy
Blame the breed
The Staffy curse
Is sad to read

They don’t report
The positive things
The love we give
The joy we bring

We might be strong
And made of muscles
But we love our hugs
And playful tussles

We are devoted
With massive hearts
We run away form
Our smelly farts

If you know
A Staffy well
You’ll understand
My need to tell

We are not monsters
We are not evil
We are not savage
Or dogs of the devil

We are quite simply
Man’s best friend
Loyal and true
Right till the end
Today I strode the road from my abode to the ocean.
Straight to the sea it takes me East.
Normally a feast for the eyes,
Today I walk while the sun does rise.
The blinding light so bright removes my sight
I listen the world.

The wind through the leaves of the trees,
A world at ease.
The breeze interrupted by the wheeze of a car.
A scar to mar the aural vista.


The world’s heart pounds
With the sound of my feet on the ground
A jack-hammer resounds abounding,
Interrupting the surrounds abruptly,
Like a palpitating heart getting a defibrillator restart.


From the trees birds whistle melodies
I hum thirds, fifths, the harmonies
Vibrato offered by the bees,
Percussion from the choppy seas.
A horn rings out, commuters shout
The rhythm and the tone falls out,
Slow, fast, sharp, flat all about.

As my feet reach and breach the beach,
Far enough from the road’s screech
I hear the ocean preach in a speech to me.
Whispered accents on each word.
It sighs defeated, it feels mistreated
It sings songs not yet completed
But interrupted by man’s conceited need to sing his own song.
The wrong song for too long.

The sun falls behind a cloud
Removing the shroud,
Showing the crowd singing so loud on the shore
I close my eyes to block them out,
To listen as the world’s song sprouts
I want the ocean, the trees and the world to shout
Loud enough to drown us out
Us petty little runabouts.
We came here last and we won’t last if we try to move around so fast.

Stop.
Listen to the breeze through the trees.
Dream dreams of a world at ease.
tomorrow i'll wake
and the dawn will shine unhindered
on the empty white space
on the cold tear-spotted sheet
beside me
I need to be honest
All this pain
It's not their fault
Not anymore
Cause everyday
I choose
I Choose to torture myself

When I listen to love songs
The sweet ones
I let myself think about him
The one who was weak
The one who ran
When I needed him
The one I still love

I listen to broken heart songs
The angry ones
I let myself think about him  
The one who abused my naivity
The one who claimed to care
Yet not enough to save my life
Who I can't leave behind

I let myself do this
I dare to keep going
There's a new guy
I know one day it'll hurt
But I can only think
Now. it doesn't
I'm so stupid
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