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Got money, but I spent too much.
I have to pawn something,
something worth pawning.
Can't sell a guitar,
they gotta be firewood.
Sell what? Blood?
Maybe a ******* kidney?
Have to stay calm,
can't pressure cook it.
Have to form a plan,
stretch it out over a few weeks.
Can't breathe too fast.
Been calm. Head on.
Better make it last.
  Jun 2014 Forgotten Dreams
Mikaila
My special talent is being tough.
Not being unreachable,
Not being invincible,
Not being unaffected, but taking blows.
It's a dubious gift, to be sure.
But I think I can no longer deny the fact that my biggest strength in this life is my ability to take a hit and come back.
Yes, there are people who don't even feel the blows that life deals out.
And on the other hand, there are those people who fall to their knees and collapse whenever something hurts.
But right in the middle,
Between apathy and fragility,
That is where I live,
And I think it's the hardest place to be.
To brush off attacks is one thing.
To let them reach you and go on through the pain is quite another.
My special talent is SURVIVING.
My therapist says I need to learn how to thrive.
Maybe she's right. But with my life, I've not been allowed the chance.
What I have had some kickass experience with is enduring.
Surviving.
Going on.
Finding something to live for when everything I've lived for in the past has been knocked down like a line of dominoes.
And yeah, my acceptance of pain makes me vulnerable, but I spring back.
I absorb the force of what life throws at me and throw it right back.
I spend the time I need to crying, hurting, fearing.
But I always rise.
Always.
If you decide to edit the cast of my life, I learn to love new people.
If you take my chances from me, I make new ones.
If my dreams are shattered, I create new dreams.
I am not impenetrable.
I am not an island.
People touch my heart,
Leave handprints in wet paint, leave scars, cigarette burns, leave graffiti, but I
Go on.
They do not destroy me.
They can take, but they can never demolish.
My backbone bends in the wind, but it's made of steel, and you'll never break it.
I am tough, it is my special talent.
I fight wars every day that you will never know about.
I rise ****** each morning from battles against dreams of your arms.
And I will tell you this, my darling, my tyrant:
You can conquer, but you'll never win.
Forgotten Dreams May 2014
Why?
Why do you hurt yourself?
Why?
Why must you bleed?
Why?
Why do you cry a lot?
Why?
Why do this to me?
Why?
Why can't you talk about it?
Why?
Why do you like your scars?
Why?
Why would you want to keep them?
Why?
Why do you avoid me?
Why?
Why did you do it?
Why?
Its not a poem >.< just a list of questions that should never be asked
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