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I.**
I have spent far too many nights with my head in my hands,
Shallow breaths in and out,
Shaking and choking on the sharp threat of tears.

There’s a hole in my chest that aches with each breath;
It expands and expands more and more,
Threatens to tear me whole.

Maybe if the stars shined a little brighter I’d find hope in that small light.
Maybe if the moon were closer I’d feel better about being under it.

II.
I feel empty and inadequate.
I feel weak, I feel small.
I feel like I’ve lost myself.

It comes in waves every now and then.
The sudden wash of a ripping tide crashing onto shore -
into the hollows of my bones and crashing
with a force that chills my entire body.

It’s not welcome here but it keeps breaking down the door.

I have tried padlocks and I have tried iron and steel,
but the water creeps in through the cracks without fail,
and it’s not long before I drown.
6 minutes.
Why do people insist in the use of figurative language
I am not as blue as the sky (simile)
This sadness is not swallowing me whole (hyperbole)
My tears are not carving new paths down the skin covering my cheeks (imagery)
The frown I wear is not eating the happiness off my face (personification)
This feeling is not a storm that won’t subside (metaphor)
I am not softly shaking so someone stops to shush my sobs (alliteration)
You can’t hear the smashing of tears on the table (onomatopoeia)
There is no way to make this pain sound beautiful
I am sad, plain and simple.
Deal with it.
 May 2014 Emily JoAnne
SG Holter
Speaking with our hands
We discharge disagreements at
The windows of our castle.

Taking out the eyes of our love
One retina at the time.
Blinding our union until

We forgive each other with
Passionate agreement.
Speaking with our hands.
I ask her to describe her mood
By color
& she said*  *"blue"
& I asked her why she's sad
She responded


*"I'm not,
I just love the way the ocean makes me feel
I love the water
So therefore I'm blue"
Defining colors in a way it's different
 May 2014 Emily JoAnne
Margaret
Once I wore Yoga Pants to school
That day I got asked out 3 times
All nice guys
All nice people
But I said no to all of them
Why?
Because something about those
pants made them see something
they hadn't noticed before
And I didn't like that.
I didn't like the fact that they didn't
see who I was in a **** dress
or in jeans
or in other clothes
All they noticed was how my ****
looked in Yoga Pants
I wanted them to ask me out
when I wasn't wearing tight pants
*Is that too much to ask?
I hope you all know what i'm trying to say :-)
 May 2014 Emily JoAnne
Tyler Man
This is not a poem
This is a statement
Until recently I loved others the way
I wanted to be loved
I've learned that I need to love me
How I want to be loved
And learn how others want to be loved
To love them the way they
Want to be
<3
I asked the Lord
To be with me
as I journeyed through my day
it was so good to know
is all seeing eye
was on me
each step of the way
now I may stumble
and I may fall
still he remains
my precious friend
and although I may fail
he's always there
and he'll be there
right till the end
for he is there
No matter where you are
he is there
and no distance
will be too far
he'll just reached down
with his tender hand
and show you
how much he cares
so don't ever give up on him
for he loves you and He is there
now we all have those days
as I'm sure you know
when everything it just seems to go wrong
but isn't it good
to know inside your heart
you can always sing a song
or you can pray without ceasing
he will hear you
and answer your prayers
see there's never been a day
that I could say
my lord was never there
The Sun in Sudan is unkind.
There beauty withers into dust.
The people there are primitive,
Their ways are alien to us.

A Christian woman, eight months pregnant,
Has been condemned to lash and rope.
convicted by Sharia law.
Our outrage is her earthly hope.

For Meriam refused to yield,
In Jesus she maintains her trust.
She would not convert by force
To a cult that seeks control of us.

A modern day Antigone,
condemned to death because of faith.
A prisoner of Conscience, she,
Like the Lamb, endures their hate.

She is not clothed as with the Sun.
The child she bears, no Savior King.
She’s labelled an adulteress
though she wears her husband’s ring.

Her faith provides no easy path,
that often is the way of things.
Like all those Martyrs who came before her,
She puts her trust in Christ the King.
Meriam Ibrahim, A Christian wife and mother in Sudan, has been condemned to 100 lashes and then death because she does not follow the religion of “peace” professed by her biological father, the man who abandoned her and her mother when she was just six years old. Meriam was raised as a Christian and is prepared to die as a martyr for the Faith.
......And she wrote in a frenzy
Breathless and thirsty.
Words to feed her mind
Stories to feed her soul.
And she kept writing, incessantly,
As if it was akin to breathing.......

— The End —