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'We were killing pigs when the
Yanks arrived.
A Tuesday morning, sunlight
and gutter-blood
Outside the slaughter house.
>From the main road
They would have heard the screaming,
Then heard it stop and had a view of us
In our gloves and aprons coming
down the hill.
Two lines of them, guns on their
shoulders, marching.
Armoured cars and tanks and open jeeps.
Sunburnt hands and arms.
Unarmed, in step,
Hosting for Normandy.
Not that we knew then
Where they were headed, standing
there like youngsters
As they tossed us gum and tubes of
coloured sweets'
I think I'm better.
At many things;
at being a drug user.
Hold up, you're saying, a better drug user?
How could you be better at using drugs?
Isn't the point for addicts to stop using?
Isn't that what makes them better?
Maybe.

I only buy my **** at the lowest of prices,
yet I always make sure it's good quality,
I won't buy it again if it's not.
//
I never use two days in a row,
or at least I try not to.
I don't use like I did anyway.
****, I hardly remember this last summer,
what with all the hydrocodone,
methamphetamine cut MDMA,
***, and alcohol.
I don't think I was sober for more than two days.

But it's not like that anymore.
I don't get high on days I work,
I don't get ****** at school,
I don't drink on weekdays,
I don't pop Molly anymore.

I'm a better drug user.
They all look at me and believe I'm innocent
Yes, I don't do drugs or drink
Yes, I don't smoke cigarettes

I'm tired of feeling like a teachers pet
I'm tired of feeling like a goody too-shoos
I'm tired of feeling like a plain Jane

I'm not perfect
I'm not innocent
I'm not a ******

I crave him constantly
I want him more than anything
I crave being touched
I want to be kissed

I'm not the christian girl I used to be
I don't believe in "God"

I want to be perceived differently
I want to be seen for who I am
I want to be seen as an adult

I'm no child
I'm a women and a strong one at that
Just ranting
I wonder if she knows,
that when she speaks
with a voice
low and smooth,
I become ashamed of my own.

I wonder if she knows
I watch her sometimes
and envy each breath.
I admire everything about her...
her poetry is simple but stunning
her laugh infectious
her smile is kind
and her eyes are bright.

I heard about her,
years before,
and had a picture in my mind.
I know her now
and the picture has not changed
if only to make it better.

I envy her confidence
I admire her every movement.
If she were famous I'd own all her movies
and do what I do now,
watch and learn
and try to be as great as she.
Her talent is unwasted
as all who know her love her.
How is it she's so grand?

The boys, they look,
they see,
they know she is the most beautiful girl in the room
they know they want her
they know,
as I know,
that she's worth it.
that she deserves it.
that she should be happy.

I wonder if she knows,
this poem is about her.
I wonder if she knows
I wish I could be even an inch similar to her.
It's not cruel envy and jealousy I hold for her,
but complete admiration for the way she carries herself.
She speaks her mind
and shows emotion
clever and funny,
she walks with regality
and is oh so gorgeous.

How is it she seems so perfect?
So poised and gentle and witty-
in not the most poetic terms
I basically think she's really cool,
and wish I could carry myself
in the profound,
glamourous,
respectable,
admirable way in which she does.

How is it she'd ever care to be my friend?
Oh the way she walks,
the way she speaks,
the way the other girls envy
the way the boys look
the way the teachers admire,
she's unafraid to announce her sorrows and fears,
she enters a room with a fierce glamour
and makes her presence known,
as, for her, it should be.

Oh, she is glorious.

and I admire her so.
I'm not paying attention,
I glance around the room, distracted.
My eyes glaze over to him-
**** ****
he looks right at me
oh god- he probably thinks I was staring at him-
he's probably creeped out
oh god no
please don't hate me-
oh crap I looked at him again.
ugh.
great. now he thinks I'm creepy.
An experience I had in class today... and on the bus...
it happens often.
I hope they aren't creeped by my frequent but accidental eye contact.
No one gets it
Everyone finds it hilarious how much I love you
I know it's weird for me to say that I love you
But I do
Your voice, your dancing, your liveliness
It keeps me happy
It makes me smile
It makes me excited
What would have I done
Without you?
I would still be listening to music that made me angry
Music that made me sad

Instead your music makes me want to dance
It makes me want to love
It makes me want to scream out with joy

I remember being 12
6th grade
I remember looking in the mirror
Crying
Sobbing
Wanting just someone to reach out and hug me
To tell me I was a good girl
To fix my heart

And that's what you did
Not by letting me lay in self-pity
But by telling me
You must not know about me
No they don't
They didn't know about me

So when girls say
Stop talking about Beyoncé
All you do is talk about Beyoncé

Yes I do
Shut the **** up
She saved my life
I'm sorry that my hero is annoying to you
I'm sorry that God never saved me like she did
I'm sorry that you can't even imagine how much I respect her

She's my queen
My Queen B
To the queen B. A rant, and feelings
I turn and there you are
you're on the bed with the guitar in your lap
you gesture me over
and I lay next to you

I watch you pick each string delicately
each string moves slowly
yet you strum them quickly

you play a sweet song that ****** a smile on my face
I fall into a trance
I'm under your spell
my eyes are closed and I'm soothed

I feel your lips against mine
and those hands against me

You touch me so gently
so softly you wouldn't know the work on them
the callouses disappear
the scars fade
they feel like home

His hands know the old strings
His hands know work
and his hands know me
You click on the keys
Even though I sit here right next to you, looking deep into you face
     I look into your skin
     The way the light is hitting your pours
     The way your eyes reflect the green trees outside, your double-paned
     window
You entrance me with your smile
     but you will make me feel bland when you don't look my
      way
I wonder to myself
Do you know?
DO you know that I want you're attention?
I know you enjoy just sitting together and looking at games, but I crave you're attention
I DON'T WANT TO BE IGNORED




.....Then you pull away from the screen
you take your hand
you brush my hair over my ear
you caress my face with both hands
you lightly kiss me
you hold me in that perfect spot in your neck
you silently pet my hair (I can hear you breathe in my smell)
......Then you whisper in my ear that you love me
and sometimes that's just all I need
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