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I try to hold my tears as long as I can,
So that I can drown out the world in front of me.
I used to just sit in the closet, and hide there.
I was scared. That society wasn't ready to accept my skin.

The closet isn't just for homosexuals.

We are all like worn out coats that are shoved into the closet when we are not good enough to be worn.
I used to just sit in the closet  with all the worn out coats and Match patterns with them, oddly even there I was the only brown one.
In my family, we are all white. Until I was born.
The first time I was called a ****** it was by one of my cousins. The words stung like a snake had bitten me on the neck. And injected more blackness into my skin, I was labeled something that I wasn't ready to accept. Her words where a cattle **** that branded me from that point on
I ran into the closet and his there. I didn't leave for seven hours, I counted the hours on my skin with bite marks, I tried to rip my skin off so that I could look like everyone else because my second grade teacher told me we all looked alike on the inside. And I just wanted to look like all the other people in my family with there straight hair and white skin.
I used to hide in the closet. Because it was so dark my skin would fade away into the darkness and my blackness dissolved in the blackness. I was accepted.  I was loved.
I used to hide in the closet.
When I stopped, I straightened my hair and continued to carve away at my own skin until I saw the whiteness I craved for so long. My skin was my closet for so long and for my entire life I was trying to get out.
 Dec 2014 Emily Marie
betterdays
tis but a rusted memory
now
but once a child's pride and
beloved toy....

fire engine-red trike,
riden for miles, and miles
and across lands of
imagined adventure....

feet pumping, wind in face
bell clattering, tink-tink-tink
and screams of pure...
unadulterated JOY

now a shadow,
draped in old hessian cloth
bell silent, rust weeping
and frozen to the ground

red trike,
i ride you still
in my dreams
we still slay dragons
tho now it seems
that dragons have many
guises, many lives
and that in this life
of adultness...i am in
dragons...sometimes
not often, but sometimes win
we have bought tod a trike
like thing for christmas....
made me think of the three times handed down...three wheeler i had as a child...
and other things....
 Dec 2014 Emily Marie
Tark Wain
I could list the number of people that have been killed by police in the last year.
I could list the number of police that have been killed in the last year.
I could list the number of people that have died with cause in the last year.
I could list the number of people that have died without cause in the last year.
I could do all these things
but it wouldn't matter
because somewhere along the road
we lost our way.

We have battled over the meaning of life
it's freedom!
no it's money!
Power!
Happiness!
We have pursued what we set in front of us
with little regard for its effect.
We build amusement parks over graveyards.

Death is unfortunate now
of course when it isn't useful.
Police **** a man and it's symbolism.
A man kills police and it's symbolism.
A white man chides a black man and it's symbolism.
A black man chides a white man and it's symbolism.
it's lazy
it's also unfortunate.

If everything is symbolism
then nothing is.
If we cling to every moment like it's a rock on a cliff
we will fall to our death every single time.
We grasp for the bigger picture
as we fail to see the smaller one.
Everything must mean something
no moment should be lost on us.

it's lazy
it's also unfortunate

What i'm saying is that the meaning of life
is thought
pure unadulterated
back of the head against the pillow
eyes to the ceiling
hand on the heart
mind in the clouds
thought.

Thought defies population statistics
thought frees you from the numbers.
Suddenly it doesn't matter how many police died last year
or how many people they killed.
If we think we can observe the issue
or ignore it entirely.
We can do whatever we want
isn't that what life is supposed to be?

But thought requires work
we must view not only both sides to every story
but each degree of the angles in between.
It isn't easy.
It isn't simple
and that's why I think it will never correct itself.
Next year more people will die
because we won't think.

it's lazy
it's also unfortunate.
 Dec 2014 Emily Marie
Tark Wain
We did it
It's all on us
We didn't have chance
nobody believed
I mean why not
We had proven what we could do
We had shown the power of our actions
the system was our enemy
we didn't treat it as such
so when we fought back
we thought the system would back us
it didn't
 Dec 2014 Emily Marie
Tark Wain
I was born in Princeton University.

2. That's the closest I was to getting in.

3. As a kid I enjoying stuffing round pegs into square holes.

4. I knew it wouldn't work.

5. That comforted me.

6. I grew into jeans I didn't own.

7. So I could stop wearing other jeans I didn't own.

8. Come to think about it I use a lot of things I don't own.

9. I have two parents.

10. My mother used to be anorexic.

11. Now she wishes she was.

12. My father makes a lot of money.

13. Yet he is unsure of whether or not he is successful.

14. He does not want me to make money.

15. He believes he's done enough.

16. I am tired.

17. That's probably because I don't sleep a lot.

18. I am tired of being tired.

19. I doubt the redundancy matters to my brain.

20. I used to want to be an astronaut.

21. I only said that when I looked at the moon.

22. Now I want to work in Tv.

23. Maybe that's because I always watch.

24. I look for inspiration under every rock.

25. All I find is dirt.
 Dec 2014 Emily Marie
Tark Wain
I watched a war movie once
that was the last time

it is isn't like that
it isn't like that at all
you don't get any last words
any final redeeming syllable
those who are lucky die instantly
those who aren't mutter nothing as they slip away
my buddy didn't have any last words
my face shrouded in light wasn't the last thing he saw

it was a ******* bullet
SHOT FROM GOD KNOWS WHERE
BY GOD KNOWS WHO
and notice I never mentioned his name
the media does this to desensitize you
to make 100 deaths feel indistinguishable from each other
his name was Ryan Glass
and he was headed home in 17 days

he did not have a wife
but he had a girlfriend he was beginning to love
he had a son from a past marriage
that was about to turn 6
and was just learning that the man
who drove him to school every weekday wasn't his "real dad"
and now he's excited to meet his father
but Ryan is ******* dead

That's the reality of war
I didn't want to hurt myself
but the stinging felt better
on my thighs
than it did in my heart
and the burn
of the ***** in my throat
will always taste better than
swallowing down the words
I want to say to you
I'm hungry and hollow
and I just want someone to call my own
I just want someone to hold
and I want us to love each other
you were like a hurricane
you came to me when I was still
young and beautiful and new
but you destroyed everything in me
the storm calmed eventually but it didn't stop raining in my mind so I ran blades along my skin trying to find some part of myself that might still be there but I only bled colors of you so I sent out search parties all over my body
but they where never to be found
cause I guess you took them with you
so much of me lost in you
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