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 Jun 2017 cherry blossom
Cali
I am still learning
how to be gentle and kind
in a world that is not mine,
where the flowers sway
in fields of golden solemnity
and the trees shake like a word
that wants to be said.

I am still learning
how to live in a place
where knowledge is but
a means to an end;
a point on the map
to be forgotten once you've
crossed into the blissful ignorance
of suburban accomplishment.

I am still learning
how to look at a sunrise
and feel more than this
transient melancholy
at a beauty that is held alone.
The thoughts that bloom
in exultance just to be borne
lie waiting, ripe with discontent
at the threshold of a room
where no one speaks the language.
I want a man or a cat tonight.
Just kidding!
I want both.
why don't i believe the things you say
why do i delve in your words
why do i starve for your affection
aware of it's cheap sentimental pieces
taken from your past loves,
recycled
to make me smile.
i hate that it works,
that your cheap sentimental affection
makes me weak
i forget about me
do you even care?
why. don't. i. believe. you. may. actually.
love. me.
care about me.
want to know me.
why is it hard for me to accept love
is it a self-fulling prophecy or
perhaps merely good acting
to satisfy your own needs
am i that crazy?
She's
been
walking
down
the same never-ending,
winding corridors,

Dimmed lights,
***** white walls,
no windows,
no doors,
square-tiled floors.

Dragging
her
feet
for what seems like
an eternity,

Stupid girl!
Her mind in a whirl!
Holding hope for an exit,
dreaming about
what it would be like
on the other side of those walls--externally.

Accustomed to the restrictions - sadly!

Hurting, defeated, anxious - badly!

Imprisoned mentally!

Acknowledging it, finally!

No denial, there, nor here!

You'd think she'd be over the fear;

Well, she's not!

She still hurts alot!

All alone in her mind
with her messy thoughts
and her regrets,

She's given away so much
unconditional love,
her heart and soul
have many outstanding depts.

She's had way too much time
to think about
all of the ****
that she's been through!

She hasn't healed,
those ***** walls don't understand,
they listen,
but they haven't any clue!

She's
kept
moving
down
those same corridors,
never wanting to look back,

With only one direction,
you'd think it be impossible
that she would get so lost...
I mean, after all,
it's a one-way ****** track!

But she did,
and she always does, too!

Getting confused, and lost,
for her, is nothing new!

She found herself
in those deserted corridors
at a very young, tender age,

Don't know how or why
it happened to her,
I can't even begin
to try to explain it
on this page.

I wish i could,
it would probably help her alot
if i did,

But it's a very long story,
winding and never-ending,
just like those corridors,
so it's best that I don't lift the lid.

She doesn't want to look back,

I
guess
she'll
just
keep
going
down
the same
relentless,
hopeless
track!

By Lady R.F.(C)2017
 Jun 2017 cherry blossom
Jen
I am fighting in a war
blood stain on my chest
the battle front  is empty
yet the field is a grand mess

and in this war, I stand
with no partner, king or hero
only pierced pain on my stomach
from a straight  cut bullet arrow

and this arrow had no bow
just soft hands that plunged my death
and I tell myself, enough
while I lose myself and breath

I am fighting a war
and in it, I fight alone
for  the enemy is me
with myself, I can not atone
day to day is a constant battle inside of me. I am my worst enemy and this has to stop.
 Jun 2017 cherry blossom
Jen
it's noise.

it's bustles and white sounds and orchestras of screams
it's sentences without periods and angry machines

it's nothing romantic it's like a busy road
while you're stuck in  traffic trying to reach home

but home is a construction you never wanted to lease
now the sounds are louder as you're crying for peace

a never ending cycle of  static on your radio
you get it unplugged but it still leaves an echo

so you run to a person to someone you believe
you tell them about your day, about those angry machines

but they turn on the television, give a frown and you stop
while your heart breaks in front of them and all they say was
"grow up."

you listen to the static, and the tv and his voice
and you listen to the screams and the sounds without choice
so I tell you this now and I tell you with poise
run away from anxiety cause hell, it's a whole lot of noise.
But if its all in your head how can you run away from it?!!!?? *help and theraphy wanted*
I slipped up.
I slit cuts.
I didn't mean to.
I drew blood.

I read online
When I was probably just 14 or 15 years old
That most people don't stop until their 20's
And it scared me
But I thought
"No, I'll stop right now"

But I didn't.
I couldn't.

I slipped up.
I slit cuts.
I didn't mean to.
I drew blood.

And now that I'm older
It hurts more to try to hide it
And now that I have people that care about me
Often times they don't understand why this part of my life is still relevant
And all I can say to make them understand is

I slipped up.
I slit cuts.
I just had to.
I drew blood.
Oh, how sweet it would be
When Lucifer beholds thee
His string of words, ablazing a fire.
To read it with passion is what I desire.  

Oh, how sweet it would be
When the reaper comes upon me.
When his words ring in me,
They strike fear, greed, and joy.

Oh, how savory it would be
When Lucifer and the Reaper
Were to sing a melody of their own.
Anger, sorrow, disappointment, and pride.

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I wish to hear the poems of
The crooked, of the scarred, and ******

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am,
For I would tear off
The wings of an angel to hear
A wonderful song of sorrow.

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I would **** a child
To have coffee with the darkness.

Father, oh, Father..
Forgive me for my sins,
But I don't think I'm welcome here.

~ M.M
Angels do not weep, nor do they scream for they are loved. They know not of pain.

But Lucifer and The Reaper, oh the bunch, they are wonderfully broken.

P.S This is all imagination, as far as I know, I wouldn't **** a child to make a poem out of it.
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