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 May 2018 joel hansen
Black Leaf
I'm tired.
Tired of everything.
I just want to sleep,
And never wake up again.

No, I'm not lazy,
I'm not running away from life.
I'm just tired of the world and myself,
And too tired to change anything.
What happens when the good girl goes bad
like the spoiled milk she left out?
Because I couldn't seem to get up.
I think it was something about acknowledging that I'm alive, I'm here.
Wouldn't it all be easier if I wasn't?

When the good girl goes bad
because she worked her *** off on that paper and only got a C.

When the good girl goes bad
because the world doesn't treat her right,
but I guess it must because that's
how come I'm the good girl.
Not my depressed sister sitting in her room;
not my other sister running around, destroying everything I had to work for;
most definitely
not my other sister who always seemed to be your favorite but is now smashing plates in our backyard,
'cause I guess that's what happens if you get too close to you.

When the good girl goes bad,
you get angry because
I'm supposed to be your perfect child
not supposed to be
your ***** up child
your lonely child
your lazy child
your anxious child
not supposed to be
your good for nothing child
your dysfunctional child
your doesn't give a **** about anything anymore child.
why don't I ******* give a **** about anything anymore?

When the good girl goes bad
your life falls apart,
because clearly
you had enough to deal with already,
because clearly
this is all my fault,
because clearly
you don't have the time to face your good girl
and
because clearly
that's all on me.

When the good girl goes bad
because you left her out on the counter all those years, sitting there to rot.
And though I know that you can't waste your time putting it away, 'cause you never cared for it anyway,
maybe you shouldn't have bought the milk if you didn't want to drink it.
And I know the milk should take care of itself
but I tried and that only works for a couple of years
before the good girl gone bad falls far off the counter, spills across the floor,
and the only thing left is to throw that nasty old milk away
because your bread, eggs, oil, etc. need your attention
and it's just too late for the good girl.

When the good girl goes bad
because she never asked to be the good girl
or maybe I did, I don't really remember,
but not like this.
I just wanted to be loved
but little did I know that
the good girl just sits there
keeping herself afloat,
but the boat can't guide itself if it wasn't given eyes.
The boat can't patch itself if you keep telling it its still brand new
when its really old, broken, and covered in holes.
You shouldn't put a boat in the water if you know its going to sink,
but I guess you only really need a couple good boats
so you can just toss the good girl.

When mama's little good girl goes bad,
she feels guilty
because she was told she'd always be
the good girl.
Though, its hard being the good girl when you don't have any windshield wipers for your tears at night.
But the tears at night aren't supposed to exist
because
I'm still mama's mother ******' good girl,
just...
please pretend I haven't gone bad.
I added to what was originally posted. I was having some technical issues and decided to just post what I had before, but this is the full poem (5/16/18)
 Apr 2018 joel hansen
storm siren
If the hellhounds nip at my ankles--
(And they will)
Promise me you will put flowers at the foot
Of my coffin,
To cover the stubs
That they left.

If angels call for me--
(And they just might)
Hold my hand close to your heart,
But let my summer sunset voice
Fade away into the first night of a too-cold fall.

If the world tries to pull me underneath its cold, damp crust,
Then remember me as I was.

Remember me as spacey.
Remember me as guilty.
Remember me as filled with sorrow.

But most importantly
Remember the smile I smiled just for you.
Remember the laugh that bore your name.
Remember how my hand felt in yours,
And how bad it hurts to see it in his.

Remember my voice as it spoke your name, soft, sweet, and tasting like cool blueberries on a hot spring day.

And remember how I burned it to the ground
With hell hounds at my feet,
With angels at my throat.
Remember that I burned the bridge,
And spat blood into the ashes,
As this Earth swallowed me whole

And I was

Born.

First to die

Now to live
They say that your memories prevail over all other things.

These memories that hold every experience and idea that your brilliant mind ever brought to life.

Painful ones, sad ones, joyful ones, wistful ones, all this because your mind is a vault.

Watching someone die changes you, for the better or for the worse that's your choice.

I've watched someone die; in fact it was one of my best friends whose last breath fell from his lips with the words "I'm sorry" drifting on the stale air.

My mind has stowed this memory into a vault and has never once let it out to play.

Now, it is playing.

His face, the way he smiled and made you laugh, his name rolled off the tounge like water.

My happy memories are hardly enough any more...

How about the time that I was mentally and emotionally abused by a woman who I believed loved me for me.

Instead she took my heart and twisted it into the shape of gun that fired into my mind the day she left.

My memories were scrambled, turned inside out, unfixable;Broken. Beyond. Repair.

I have so few happy memories left untainted, so few.

Everytime I get sad it doesn't just stop; it spirals, uncontrollably, and quickly into Oblivion.

My memories have been tainted, I recommend you hold on to every one of the happy ones you've got left.

Good luck...
Even now I tell myself why did I write this and post it here, like I said, uncontrollable spiral...
Let our final moments be told
As everything begins to unfold
We stand and make amends
As everything around us ends
This is where we let go of our names
As everything is engulfed in flames
The seconds where we learn to care
As everything remains in despair
We all begin to repent
As everything leads to this moment
Where we lose all hope
As everything hangs on a rope
When it all crumbles on this fight
As everything is burned alight
In our final moments that night
 Apr 2018 joel hansen
Siphumelele
...
Watch them forget you,
While you thought about them
Each
         And
                 EVERY
step of the Way.
 Apr 2018 joel hansen
atomic blue
like in a mirror I'm searching
up at the stars I stare
never seeing the one reflecting
hollow in my despair
surrounded by humanity
I know that you're there
probability is the cruelty
that I'll never know where
reality is my sadness
keeps me distant alone
awareness my incompleteness
what forever I've known
impossibility the madness
and to solutide that's home
I'll welcome each wanderer
share the art where I roam
.
.
.
sure to never see her

Sam@041618
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