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She's smiling, but she's hiding.
Every girl is like the moon,
Parts are almost always hidden.
I learn those parts first,
and just watch the rest.

**-N.C.
I have yet
to truly find
a happy poet.
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you I hate you I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I do
I hate you
I hate you
I hate what happened
I hate what I did
I hate where I am
I hate the changes that I had to make
I hate being responsible
I hate being sad
I hate that you're gone
I hate that I'm wrong
I hate this
I hate myself
I'm sorry I let you down;
I'm sorry all I did was to make you frown.
I'm sorry I can't make you laugh for now;
For I am not a clown.

I just want to make you feel in love;
Just like a flying dove.
I'm looking in the eyes of Love;
Where it is beautiful like the stars from above.

How can I make you smile?
Do you want to be alone for awhile?
Or I should stay away from you more than a mile.
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
is this how our story ends?
with you forgetting
and me regretting?

is this how our story ends?
with our song not sung anymore,
our rings not worn anymore?

is this how our story ends?
with you and someone new
while i'm stuck in the same old shoe?

is this how our story ends?
i'd hate for it to be
but now you look free
so bad as it is
must i accept this
*it is how it ends
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