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Life throws
live bombs at you;
abuse,
cruelty,
manipulation by
‘so called’
loved ones,
betrayal of trust,
****** of innocense,

all contributing
to the grand design
and creation of a
sorrowful, raging monster;
a special breed.

You come to
discover and sharpen
the only real
weapons
you possess…

YOUR WORDS.

These words
become like machetes,
cutting and chopping
through bone.

These words
become the lethal
bullets that
penetrate
deep into the
crevices of
heart and mind.

Somewhere,
within the vast
depth of yourself
you find a strength
and courage,
in between
the layers of
rusted scars,

creating a new
persona,
one who will
stand up for you,
when your fragile
‘self’
cannot.

This creature
takes the brunt
of the hurt
and fear
directed your
way.

Those that pretend
to love you,
yet cause only harm,
witness this savior
you’ve borne,
and have the nerve
to be offended.

Often these
Pretenders
find it quite
entertaining to
watch and listen

as you tear
another apart.

That is,
until you turn,
and point your revolver…

at THEM.

Bang! Bang! goes
that gun,
and down they go,
obliterated
by your own hand,
and you can
only offer up
an amused grin…

as they
bite the bullet!


~ by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Retaliation, revenge, Karma
Once upon a time
A man planted two trees
Maybe a symbol
To a lover, a history lost
Maybe just because

I bought the house
And the trees came with
Grown and strong
First apart and then adjoined
At their base, they were separate
By time, they joined
Leaning on each other

Their strength was together
Withering many storms
Winds that crashed
All too many others
And they were the last I owned

One day they fell, some fool
Brought nails, too early on
Pegged a sign, maybe for some yard sale
And the nail was planted
But they grew around
Thought, together
Thought they were strong

But the trees felt rot
It crept right in
They had ignored the wedge
Guilt and rot set in
And, together they fell

Their roots, I found
Together, tangled and proud
I couldn't tell, one from another
So close they had grown
How broken they ripped
The trees were close
Almost just as one

The greatest trial they faced
And that bit of nail
Rusted and brown
A storm like no other
Brought them both down

One fell away, another the other
Both against even the wind
The great storm, just another
They broke at the nail
Created by another
Such a small thing
But never recovered
There's a horse who is primed for battle. She's been broken and saddled, muscles hard and keen, her frame is lean, she's got all the necessary means to carry destruction into the heart of the fray.

But. She's afraid. She dreads the day.

There's a child who is primed in playground. She's been beaten and shoved down, she's been left to bleed, the teachers are too late to intervene. And she waits for the day for them all to pay.

But she's afraid. How couldn't she be?

There's a leader who is primed in sovereignty. She's been brought up high society with a sharpened gleam, smart and mean, quietly she gathers steam. With the tools to rule, she waits for the day to carry the horse to heart of the fray, to make them pay, to make them all pay.

But she knows the game, knows how to wait.

And still the world will twirl in its hate.
Until it needs a leader who's great.

She'll rise like the cream to the top of the pack, and pick up the slack, and possess what they lack.

And finally grasp the ultimate power!

To rule. To instruct. To provide the anchor for the ones who were broken and beaten, afraid.

And she'll heal their wounds, for she knows their pain.
Fair leadership. A rare phenomenon.
I hope you are well. Truly. My name is gladys, I am twenty-two, this is not an autobiography. This one time I almost crashed my car into a metal sign post in order to not run over a pigeon. I often leave secret notes hidden between the pages of books from my favourite authors in public libraries and book stores. I never got my photograph/ senior quote published in my graduating class' yearbook in high school because I am eminently indecisive. I don't mind it, however, I sort of like the idea of it, a somewhat absent nostalgia. I really like it when people unthinkingly do kind things for other people. I like the color blue, a lot, although I rarely wear it. I use commas quite excessively in my writing. I like that they indicate a brief pause but are not as final as periods. I like many things, I like to do face exercises and arm stretches at night before I go to sleep. And that, that is all. For now.
You are wonderful, goodnight.
 Aug 2014 paper boats
pat
holding my head as I jump as high as the ground
I'm falling, as high as the clouds
so, fly away with me
I'll take you around
we'll race for the mornings end
the summer comes and we
try for what's left of this dream
I'm calling you back to say
"I love you" to fix my mistakes
some say we can't live life without any faith
pride for the roads that we take
pick me up, let me in
I feel so out of place
I feel like I'm ready to go
Oh, and it's just like you
to act like you don't even care
Oh, and it's just like me
to go home in this state
you can break yourself away, do it all alone.
and they won't know
and you can thank your dad and God that you've got a home
it's somewhere to go
Wednesday night. Making a list of places to visit and languages to learn. Listening to rebroadcasted recordings of Pablo Neruda poetry readings. Wishing I were in New York, wishing it were 1966. Some things are better seen with closed eyes. Some things are felt most without touch. I hope the cause of my death the day it comes is due to some sweet tragedy such as that of drowning in the depths of my own heart.
 Aug 2014 paper boats
Cream Puff
I want peace
And simplicity.
I want passion
And adventure.
Understanding
And acceptance.
Of me from me
And you the same.
I want me
And you.
Together.
That is all.
#notawriter #feelingsfeelevenwhenwordsdonotword #simplicity
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