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If I can help someone

Definitely

It's not my greatness

It's the greatness of the
opportunity
That was given to me

By my folks

If not me
Someone can help them

But, they gave me a chance
To serve them
To serve people
Is serving Almighty God
 Jan 2015 Shannon Delaney
kaycog
love starts out as snow flurries then turns into blizzards
 Jan 2015 Shannon Delaney
ryn
Advice
 Jan 2015 Shannon Delaney
ryn
People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.

They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...

Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.

They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.

I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.

What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.

I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.
A chat I had with a friend made me realise... "What doesn't **** you, makes you stronger..." And I know this to be true... So...

"Be very weak... So you could be strong..."
- ryn

Dedicated to all the broken hearts out there...
.
I brought a poem
Into a room
Of well-to-dos.
They went to
North American schools.
They looked at it
For
A middle-class clue.

It's a poem, I said.

... and I know it.
...and violets are blue.
Said someone who
Said she knew
A poem or two.

To my dismay
And loss of face,
They'd never heard
Of Keats or Yeats,
But everyone knew
Of  Dr. Seuss.

I will write a rhyming verse
About a dog or cat or simple mouse.
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