Lucky are those who have found love
and been loved.

Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.
   Easy is for them to find an easy case
            for their own taste
     - a goal for their own base.

Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence.
For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence.
Freely as they get any wants in their existence.

I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,
        pretending not having rainy skies.
Hiding my Breathless sighs.

Sometimes I am like a rock
   too dull to feel, a surface too rough.
A sense I lost, an unreachable core,
I don’t know how to love anymore.



*© 2014 Pax

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It's a ******* scam and who ever the ******* are, your ****'s on blast bud.
You are all over the internet so I suggest you stop being such a ******* Duchebag and get a life.
We here on HP are here to express and live because we have no other way or simply because we love writing.

So stop being a ******* ***** and get a ******* life bro!

She was a volcano waiting to erupt;
She was a hurricane barely kept off the shore.
And when she fell to the ground,
And shattered into a thousand shards of hurt,
They did not understand why
Because she had become so good at hiding.
They told her to keep it together
And she followed their orders well.
She kept her feelings hidden from the world.
And after a while, it became too hard,
So she started to keep her feelings from herself.
And after a while, she became confused.
She didn’t remember how to feel anything;
She didn’t remember if she could.
And everyone else thought she was fine.
They applauded how well they thought she was doing.
But they did not know what they had done.
They trapped her in a cage and bolted the gate,
Not caring if the rusty bars tore her flesh,
And she sank along the wall as she tried to catch
A gulp of air polluted by the words of others.
She listened as they chanted their rhymes
About stick and stones as she thought about
All her broken bones.
They didn’t understand why she was lonely
When a swarm of people came at her
From every side of her body.
But she felt like a whale in a school of clown fish.
They told her to be herself
But she knew deep down that
That was the last thing they wanted her to be.
She let them pour her into a mold
That they wanted everyone to fill,
But when she got worn out of being numb
She couldn’t remember how to feel.
She tried to feel something, anything,
Even if it was pain,
But she couldn’t remember how.
It had become too late.