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180 months speed away - Childhood, Puberty, im an adult  now i must pay.
180 months cruise on by - my children , my parents, my marriage the latter 2 have died. 180 months come and go, i must plan the golden years but theyre  here , feels so queer. 180 months have almost past - my casket is lowered,
it's gone by  oh   too  fast.
 Sep 2014 Jodie LindaMae
Jenny
The poems I read here are mostly tragic beauty.
Line after line
I can see that we are not all just
fine and dandy.

The letters chosen
are strung together.
They just keep going on forever.

The words they make , however,
each are splendid and
profoundly, purposefully unique.

The thoughts spilled out here
are often troubling at best.
I can't help but pray
for each poet's souls end to unrest.

These words of course have to be real
but they also have so much power to heal!

For those words are each unique
and can express so much more
other than our darkest street,
but more and more of hope
and of our highest highest peaks!
She'll wake up at noon and
Dread getting out of bed.
At one, she'll get up and
Pretend that she's "just tired".
At two, her stomach is begging
For food, but she's too fat to eat.
She'll work out at three for her
Dream body, but it's only bones.
Her mother will come home from
Work at four and say she looks sick.
Dad comes home at five and
He'll say that she needs some meat on her.
The smell of a well cooked meal will
Flood her nostrils at six. Her stomach growls.
At seven, she'll give in and eat
With her family, but only a little.
Her little brother calls her fat
At eight 'o' clock; it'll make her cry.
When everyone heads to bed at nine,
She'll sneak to the bathroom to throw up.
At ten, she'll go back to bed
And cry because she isn't good enough.
She'll get a text message at eleven,
And she'll hope it's from the boy she loves.
When she's getting bullied at midnight,
She'll cut her wrists to feel better.
At one in the morning, she'll sob
Into her pillow until her heart tears
On into two a.m.
At three, she'll lie awake,
Unable to cry anymore.
She'll try to bandage her
Too damaged wrists at four;
And at five, she'll realize
That she doesn't care anymore.
At six a.m., she'll find a pen
And paper to write a letter.
She'll cry so hard that she'll
Have to start over at seven.
A knock at the door, a reminder
For school, will startle her at eight.
She will make up an excuse at
Nine for why she needs to go in late.
Her mother will leave for work
At ten, and she'll place her note conveniently.
Her mother with receive a call from
The school at eleven, she'll rush home angrily.
She'll burst into her daughters room at
Noon to find her motionless; a minute too late.
Rumpelstiltskin caught the clap
Miss Muffet got a slap
Breadcrumbs leading to the gap,
Indicated on Grimm’s map.
The Magic mirror’s spewing crap
Helping the Huntsman continually fap.

The Third Little Pig, stripped of his red wig.
Booked a new gig, on Cinderella’s oil rig.

Snow White fell back asleep.
Creepy dwarves tentatively creep
The Big Bad Wolf’s known to weep.
Staring regretfully at the flock of Lil Bo-Peep.
Mother Goose’s gone years without a peep.
Recognizing that royalties shouldn’t come cheap.

Humpty Dumpty forgot the wall, forewarned of the inevitable fall.
Beauty left Beast at the mall, said kind words, but never did call.
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