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frankie crognale Apr 2014
PRY
MAYBE THE TIGHT FEELING IN MY CHEST IS A REMINDER FOR ME TO BREATHE EVEN THOUGH ITS DIFFICULT TO DO WITH YOU AND THE WORDS YOU USED SO EMPTILY TO DESCRIBE THE SCARS ON MY WRIST THAT YOU MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE CAUSED ON MY CONSCIENCE I DIDNT THINK ID MAKE IT OUT ALIVE YOU HAD ME IN YOUR JAWS LIKE AN SNAKE HAS A MOUSE BUT I SLIPPED AWAY FROM YOU LONG ENOUGH TO DO MORE HARM TO MYSELF THAN YOU EVER COULD
i kind of like this typing in all caps thing
frankie crognale Apr 2014
the idea of us having two ears, two eyes, two arms and two legs but only one heart so we can find the other one is a beautiful concept. but what if you never find your matching heart? what if your second half dies or is impaired so they cannot venture to find you? the same goes for the mouth, what if the set of lips you've chosen to kiss for eternity are only good for kissing, and not for speaking? how will you ever know they love you?
how?
frankie crognale Apr 2014
life is nothing but a huge game of cards.  the drawing pile is a new chance, and the discard pile bunch of stale second chances that were once taken. the cards you have in your hand are what you currently posses, and you most likely are not happy with the order they've come to you in.  when someone asks for one of your cards, despite not enjoying yourself with it, you're hesitant to give away your card, as if you've grown attached to the way the cards laid out in front of you are arranged.  if you gave it away, everything would be a little bit off balance, and it might take you a while to readjust yourself to the new card. once you finally do give it away, you realize you made the wrong decision.  you figure that if you rearrange your set of cards completely, you could begin forming a new norm, and be on your way to winning the game.  you frantically begin giving your cards away to the other players and keep drawing cards from the pile of new chances. somewhere along the way you lost yourself in the game, and all your cards disappeared, and just like that, the game is over.
frankie crognale Apr 2014
i'm beyond sick of acting like i'm happy for people. i'm not happy for them. i'm not happy at all. every single day i simply go through the motions of the same boring routine rather than actually dance through life like all the happy people. do you know how hard it is to choke back your tears everyday because you have to be strong? do you know how hard it is to hold everything in because nobody gives a single **** about how you feel, all because of the way you look of dress of act or express yourself. if i was a little skinnier and maybe a little prettier, everyone would want to make sure i was okay. they'd want to be invested in **** they have no point in knowing and then try to play it off like they actually cared. today's society is completely superficial and i'm over it. if a "regular" person was suicidal, they'd be told to lay down and drink some water or tell themselves that they can get better, just to change their state of mind. the likelihood of one of the "socially accepted" people getting attention for suicidal feelings is much higher. i'm sick of people not caring. i'm sick of people not paying attention to anyone but themselves.
it just really hurts.
i'm sorry.
  Mar 2014 frankie crognale
No name
Happiness is when...
I* smile
You smile
We smile

Happiness is when...
I feel satisfied
You feel satisfied
We feel satisfied

Happiness is when...
I love you
You love me
We love each other

*Happiness is when... we are together
© Iman A. Kole 2014
The butterflies*
        turned into ravens,
Feasting over
        my ***** feelings
.
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