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He's a world reknown pianist and
She's a respected ballerina;
Another one's a famous artist.
Everyone wanted a picture. An autograph.

A simple teenager turned into a super model and
A hunk in the beach; girls flock him.
Another one's singing in the comfort of her home.  
She turned into an internet sensation.
Everybody wants to be like them.
No.  Everyone wants to be them.

And here I am, passing by the familiar streets.
And here I am, listening to my own thoughts.
And here I am, a girl unnoticed.
*Here I am, just another face in the crowd.
I want to be seen
I want someone to rip my soul apart and mold it with theirs
I want to lead a revolution, one that changes for the better
I want to be seen by naked and pure eyes
Those that haven't been contaminated by worldly prejudice

I want to be known for what my entire life has set me into
For what the universe has always led me to be
And for what I believe is the reason why
I am curled up in bed at 2 am in the morning
Hoping that someone can bare me open
Begging for the acceptance of  the chaos
That has lived and survived in my deepest oceans
And be fathomed by strangers who
Could look at me as I am
In earlier times a Daughter was born
Who carried the welts of a belt
An oath of no children
By the Mother was sworn

Ten years went by
An she agreed to one
But you must never
Lay a hand on my son

The man felt afronted
By the Oath on his head
But agreed to the terms
His wife had said...

The son was born on
A hot august Morn
But the oath on his head
Was the Mans Scorn

As the Boy grew older
All of 8 years old he
Was told his mother ill
Her Failed sight ner seen

The Boy Had to help
The mother to cook
Taught by her
From recipe books

The Man owned a factory
Where each day he must be
After school his time
Was never free

He must clean
The factory floor
And haul the Rubish
Out the door

By 9 he was working
with 16 ft boards
To help make the slats
That paid for our Board

When ever the boy talked
Of what he had learned
He was ridiculed by the father
And vicously Spurned

He was called
Insane and stupid
Told he belonged in a
Mental institution

He was told
He was a slacker
That nothing he
Did was ever right

The Spite and the Hatred
built Day upon Day
His father argued
With all that he'd say

By 12 the Boy had
Longshoremans
Syndrome, from the
weight of the work

As his spine was growing
It bent the spine as it formed
The Raging went on day after day
The abuse heaped on the head of the Boy

When Finally he left
With his back to the door
For 2 years they never
Heard from the Son

Till he missed
Them and called
2 minutes it took till
The father started again

The son slammed
Down the phone in tears
And wasn't heard from
For another year

Through all of this from 5 years old
He'd been ***** by an older boy
And Held it all within Him
Afraid of his Father he never had told

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
I am setting here in tears thinking how hard this was to write. its the events of the story of my life but I survived

My Sister said that even though she was beaten she never had it as bad as I did for her the beating would end but for me it was unending verbal abuse

At the Factory one of the Machines could kick back wood shards at the speed of a bullet and embed them in 1 1/2 inch sheet rock wall behind the operator, 2 ppl went to the Hospital with wood completely through there hand sticking out both sides... Also I had to run the paint sprayer without a mask the Paint being thinned with Leaded Gasoline for me to breath
Born free
Free to ramble the rocky cliffs
Above the white capped sea
Free to roam wild moorland paths
Mid heather and golden gorse
To scramble over the mountain tops
In air so fresh and clean
Maybe I'll wander the forest tracks
Rest in sunlit glades
Content to be with nature
Glad that I am free
 Mar 2015 Cassandra Romero
ryn
Hues of violet
As the azure meets the reddened sun
Sparse deflated clouds
Floated quiet as into each other, the colours run

Lavender streaks
Trail far into the horizon
Tracking the sunset
As the hour struck seven

Purple gladioluses
Bowed to the evening sea breeze
As if mourning the departure
Of the day's warmth with silent pleas

The orb finally sank
Beyond my sight could reach
Disappeared from here
But rising over someone else's beach

Last dregs of light
Slowly swallowed, giving birth to indigo
This night would last long
Before the first rays of tomorrow...
Grandma was wrapping gifts
Lucy, four, was "helping".
One of those times when
help slows you down.

Me, I am sacked out on the sofa
Waiting for sanity to return
and relieve me of a bad cold.

Grandma went to the kitchen
Lucy stayed wrapping.
In a few, she comes over to my hole
where I am residing and says,
"Grandpa, I brought you a present."

I looked up and there she stands.
Wrapping paper taped around her arm.
She said, "Go ahead and open it Grandpa."
"Open it?  Your arm?"
being a little slow.
"Yes Grandpa open your present."

She stands there with this
expectant expression beaming.
A moment later the fog cleared
Grandpa open the wrapped arm
and with great "surprise" exclaimed!
"This is the best Christmas present ever."
"I love it!"
  I kissed her arm and Lucy's face
as a smile spread across her face.
"This is the best Christmas present
ever Lucy.  Thank you!"


And she was off to the next adventure.
Never know what she will come up with.
Every day is an adventure.
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