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Misunderstood and Misunderstandings
is the foothold of my reality
Labels and blames
You blame me
for your life in difficulty
Stop it !
Stop it !
I'm not to blame for your mistakes
I'm not the bully
who threw away my life in vain
You're the one who did
You're the one to blame.
This poem is about how people misunderstand my actions and personality, since i barely talk much and am always quiet, they tend to blame me for everything and i did have a certain person who did that to me back in high school. That certain person used to blame me for everything that went wrong  . I'm just expressing myself in this poem on how i could have stood up for myself back then and said those words to her.
This is how
    I want
    to hold you:
Third eyes locked
         hearts unsheathed
Listening to chirps
     fluttering softly
onto the tips
        of the dew
                   below.
Written to the melody of the first bird in the early morning
do you hear that?

the sound of my heart

beating loudly

and passionately

just for you?

or is the sound of

your insults

too loud for you

to concentrate

on more than my

appearance?
a black wave
that won’t go away
my eyes forget to shut
and my lungs forget to breathe
all i can feel is
The Dread
swirling and reaching
the punishment from my own brain
for nothing
The clock shows 3:15
You see a girl, a running girl
You see her running, you don't know why
"What is she running from?" you ask
She's running from her cage, her life.
She's an untamed spirit, but she's stuck here
drowning in her agony
What cruel force holds her down
when all she wants is to be free?
She's lost all hope, lost all meaning
her pain is deep and sewn inside her
She can't fight back, and cannot hide
So she runs
      she keeps running, running.
Her heart is thumping, aching, screaming
like it'll explode and leave her twitching
Pointless crying, harming, hurting
The cuts she's made just keep on itching
Tears are trickling, dripping softly
off her wrinkled, anguished face
To herself she's nothing
       nothing
She views herself as a disgrace.
Her parents love her, her friends say the same
but she believes they're liars
       liars
Their promises are never kept
they're unpredictable fliers, fliers.
She's lost all hope, lost all meaning
Her pain is deep and sewn inside her
She can't fight back, she cannot hide
So she runs
She keeps running, running
What can she do? There's no solution
Only one way out, it's dying
     dying
She's attempted many times before
But now she's tired of so much trying
That girl is stuck in her hell of living
she cannot hide, there's no way out
So she continues on with running
She won't complain, she will not pout
She's lost all hope, lost all meaning
Her pain is deep and sewn inside her
She can't fight back, she cannot hide
So she runs
      She keeps running, running
She sees the cliff, the end is near
She runs right off that dreadful ledge
She leaps right into open air
Her last deep breath was at the edge
No one will catch her
She's falling
     falling
Falling out of sync with life
It's too late to save her
    she's dying
                 dying
The rocks, they slice her like a knife
But she's no longer falling!
She's flying!
            Soaring!
Her soul bursts up like a mighty bird
She leaves behind a piercing silence
Her final words were never heard
She kept on flying, until she reached a place
A place of peace, free of misery
Now she runs above the clouds
At last, sweet bliss
She's finally free.
The only thing to do is run
It's the only way to free her mind
She's running with the wind, the breeze
Never stopping to look behind
As she runs, she feels lighter
Like a load has lifted off
Running frees her from herself
So she runs,
  She'll never stop.
Written at age 14, when I was losing grip.
Winds howl through stricken streams,
From the moonshined mountains spiking Tennessee.
Steaming copper pipes protect like turpentine,
Cherish the soil from vine to wine.

Sweetwater medicine crosses Big Sky Country lines,
And a Capitol drowns voice's reedy rhynes.
The Carolines and swamps round' New Orleans,
Spokane's foothills spire like Woodland's Cherokees.

Mushroom clouds swooped ponderosa pines,
In the desert one day, made the earth cry.

Oh Beautiful, not time to flee,
The Jersey Wetlands or Houston's calamity,
Analogous feats, magnetic societies, 
Build a bridge across contrary beliefs. 

_trf
saturday nights,
after turning in final papers 24 hours late,
are for
ketamine,
candles,
red grapes, and
stalking your ex's exes.
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