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 Jul 2016 Giraluna Gil
Mabel
Three's a crowd.
Two, on clouds.
One in Hell,
A frog in a deep well.
You are a broken record
Player
Turning your head in circles to get a look
Of that hot peice of
***

She's more than a stupid
Mistake
She's the action you take
Over and over

You are a broken record
Player
I'm worth more than your lie
Worth more than a good lay
I know the words to this song
Keep singing
But I'm long gone.
Wrote this on my phone , which happens to have atrocious auto correct. Feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes .
on the verge of wilderness
imminent silence*

welcome
the sun stroking
peaks aglow
the thundering falls
mist-kissed rain
the solitude
so rarely reached
too often breached

stillness loosen
untamed words
in the native tongue
before thoughts
unspoken
became yours
mine
ours

to the wild
bear these
cryptic symbols
scrawled on
my halved heart
tokens of longing
succor
for the lost
Weeds.
Thorns.
Briars.
Cover the garden.
Hiding all that is under them.
I pull.
I tug.
I endure the noise of the machine.
To get rid of every single one.
I labour.
And then.
I uncover.
Green treasure.
Shiny leaves of green.
Soft leaves of juniper.
As two lovely bushes are exposed,
from under their long-endured
weedy cover.
Is this how it is with the trials of life?
The pain.
The rejection.
The anger and sorrow.
Like the weeds that try to cover.
The hope of tomorrow.
The weeds that try to hide.
The hidden treasure.
Of what God wants to teach me through this.

Hidden treasure.
Hidden treasure.
Of knowing He loves me all through the storm.
The hidden treasure of knowing I am His.
And because of this...
I shall see His goodness.
Because of this...
I shall behold...
Hidden Treasure.

(C) Elizabeth T., 2016
I do not want
To be touched.
I do not want
You to whisper sweet nothings
Into the air,
Meant for me.

I want someone to fight the world with.
Someone to see the battle
From my eye level.
Someone to raise me up,
So I can see it from theirs.

I do not want
A lover.
I do not want
Passion.

I want fire,
And fire power.

I want a comrade in arms,
I want someone to be my equal,
I want to fight alongside
Someone in this battle of life,
And stand at their level,
And be awarded
With the same valor as them.
I want the same pain,
I want to help them with their struggles,
Because I, too, have been there and theirs.

I want to fight demons off
With a blazing dagger
To protect my friend,
My colleague,
This person I want to stand up and fight with.

Do not mistake me
For a girl who wants
To be a princess.
Who wants to be a fairy.
A goddess.

I do not need the spoils of war.
I need the breath of fresh air,
The honor,
The knowing I have done right by my friends.

I do not want things and gifts and shiny bobbles.
I want to know
That through the thick mustard gas shrouded fog,
When it clears and my vision returns and oxygen finds my lungs once more,
That I can stand by someone,
And in turn they may stand by me.

And together we will feel horror at the trenches,
But when the light of day finds us,
When the enemy's white flag is raised,
We'll have each other,
And in that, even after waking up drenched in cold sweat from the PTSD-induced night terrors,
We will have peace.
Life isn't about simple pleasures, it's about standing up with your friends.
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