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 May 2013 Damaged
Nat
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
 May 2013 Damaged
Nat
...means nothing
to anybody.

The teachers that try to help us,
work day and night,
neglect their families
to think about
their students,
we ridicule,
insult
roll our eyes at,
attempt to intimidate.

The older man
standing at the door of
your grocery store,
who smiles and says
"Hello, How are you?!"
We glare at, or
ignore,
we brush him away,
and deny his
importance,
his existence.

The parents
who work so hard
and care
so much
for their children
are cussed at
ridiculed
insulted
rejected
treated like they are
Nothing
of no importance.

When someone
accidentially bumps into us
we respond with
"*******!"
"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"
"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?"
Instead of,
"Excuse me."

We all lament this
world of conflict
that exists.

We mourn the
death
of respect,
of common courtesy.

And yet we do nothing.

Are we people?
Or have we become animals?

I used to think I knew the answer,
I stayed positive,
but now...

I'm just not sure.
 May 2013 Damaged
Rebecca Thomas
Blustery, and teary-eyed,
we have hopes for this
little child.
We plan her life
with our eyes
and our words
cement reality
as it forms before us.
We have dreams
for this child
who
will be strong and beautiful
and fast and smart
and perfect.
She is the light of the morning.
She is the dawn.
She will over-come.
She will hide behind her father’s pant-leg,
stepping on his feet.
She will wear pig-tails.
She will let her mother
braid her hair.
She will confide.
She will tell you every day
the small details
of her day
and how much she loves you.
She will laugh, cry, cough
your dreams away
and eventually,
she will die.
She will meet the end
with the dignity and grace
of a woman-grown.
Or maybe,
she’ll just get shot.
Sometimes I have these dreams where you are taken from me. Your parents are usually the ones to tell me, their faces contorted with grief and streaked with tears. I fall to the floor, and on my knees I sit, everytime without fail, I fall to the floor. I'm not sure if I could call the emotion in my chest pain because that's such an understatement to what's happening in my body. Imagine an elephant sitting on your chest, crushing your lungs so you could not breathe. And imagine yellow jackets swarming inside of you. Your heart is their nest and they drift out, provoked, stinging you over and over; leaving thousands of stabs of pain in your chest, all combining to form one kind of poison. It hurts so bad it almost has this itchiness about it. And then imagine someone smashing your head open with a hammer. No form of thought, nothing being processed. Just darkness. Just grief. And then my dreams change to being at your funeral. What does one wear, I wonder? to an occasion which marks the ending of life as they knew it. I would just sit there.. I can never hear anything, it just hurts so bad. I'm constantly crying, not even able to get a grip on reality. Because it couldn't be real could it? My biggest fear coming true. And before I wake up shaking and so hot but so cold at the same time.. My dreams shift to me driving alone in my car, with that dead expression I get sometimes. Always listening to music, always hungry but having no appetite, always thinking about you. And when I wake up from these dreams, I really do think about you. And I pray. Hard. Not even praying.. Just letting God read my thoughts. Because what would happen if I ever lost you? Oh my god.. I couldn't imagine. I would be absolutely nothing. Worse, than my most hellish dreams. So please don't ever leave me in any way shape or form. I couldn't do it. Not even in my dreams.
Completely venting about dreams (or nightmares) that are had almost every night.
 May 2013 Damaged
Tonya Cusick
6 a.m. : wake up go to the bathroom, take a shower. Cry. Get out, dry off, get ready for school.
7:40 a.m.: put my shoes on, smoke, die a little.
8:30 a.m.: at school , hating every minute. Seeing her hurts.
3:30 p.m. : Get out of school, get high to get happy, Pass out, wake up.
6 a.m.
 May 2013 Damaged
brooke
I'm sure if
i met you i
would only
want to hold
you and tell
you it would
be alright.
(c) Brooke Otto.


for daniel.
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