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Things not going well now
I'm ready to crack
Satan himself
Laughs at my back

Waiting and hoping
The pressure will take
I'll say something awful
Like God is a fake

That's how he gets started
How he gets in
Turns you against God
And welcomes you in

I'm not that foolish
Sometimes I'm bothered
But he'll never deny me
The love of my Father
Going through rough patch, but I'll not give up.
 Mar 2014 Red Bergan
Cathyy
When i was 6, i wanted to be something i completely made up in my head.. A 'space ninja pirate undercover superhero with wizardry powers' of some sort, and so i became just that.

&When; i was 10, i grew out of that and grew into the idea of being just an 'ordinary girl' with ordinary clothes and ordinary hair, no extraordinary powers of any sort, and so i became just ordinary.

But when I was 12, i grew tired of being like everyone else. I wanted to create something original for myself. And so i took a pen and an old Disney notepad and wrote all my random daydreams down, and so i became a dreamer and that was that.

However, at 14. I started to care a little too much. Gave my heart away freely and brought myself cheap love. My hair was far too ordinary and my imagination was far too weird,
' if i don't start shaving now, by 16 i'll have a beard ' and so self conscious i became, and that was that for that year.

Now i'm at 16, and i'm starting NOT to care, my daydreams have got me this far and i embrace my messy hobo like hair.. It's tricky though.
'Cause if i were to be honest, i'd say this;;
At 16, i want to touch people with my words but not become a 'poet'
I want people to relate to my music but i don't want to be a musician
I want to get over my depression
But i dont want to feel perfect
I kinda want to run away
But at the same time i want to always have a reason to stay.
Personal, needed to emotionally vent#
The worst part
Isn't that you're dying.
It is
The fact that I can't forget it
*It's everywhere I go
 Mar 2014 Red Bergan
Àŧùl
Yes I am as human as you my friend,
Emotionally I'm weaker than others,
I commit my share of mistakes daily,
Errors both minor, or, major I make,
Yes I am afraid of imperfections too.

I made this brain of mine a student,
I've learned lessons from the errors,
But I don't just interpret my lessons.

I forward to you, o love, useful tips,
You just have to keep them in mind,
So we get a stronger hold in future.
Don't be afraid to do it wrong, but look out that you don't happen to repeat the same mistakes too often. So I'd call mistakes as teachings for as long as possible but it's not too good to go through the same teaching again & again, so don't repeat your mistakes in general.

My HP Poem #596
©Atul Kaushal
Last night i almost lost you
and i remembered everything.
The songs you taught me to sing
every joke we annoyed mom with
how you knew everyone we ran into on the street.
I realized
that i cannot imagine what it will be like
if you miss
my high school graduation
my first day of college
my wedding day...
and i know that you might not make it
long enough to experience
all of those things.
but i can simply not imagine my life
without you here.
For Gramps, whose pulse stopped in surgery last night.  He is more stable now (thank God) but I am terrified to lose him.
 Mar 2014 Red Bergan
A B Perales
Give me one reason to
grin and I'll
give you ten reasons to
frown.
Show me something
to cherish
and I'll throw
the rest of
this stash
away.

Offer me another
chance and I'll
probably take it.

Prove to me
none of it was
worth it and
I'll force
myself to agree.

Explain to me once more
how they walk around,
drive around,
fly around so blind
to it all and I
still won't
understand.

Present to me
the reasoning
of my past.
Justify my suffering,
and I'll write you
a tragedy full of
realness,
and beauty.
 Mar 2014 Red Bergan
A B Perales
This soul survives
on hope
alone.
Chained up and
burning.
tear stained and
laughing.

Shut out this version
of living and
blackout the time.
Artificial lighting
brightens nothing.

This unemotional winter
remains as unforgiving
as a vengeful heart.

I'm in the
midst of Dantes
version.
Chattering teeth,
blue black numbing
digits.

Curl into the corner
and pour it all
out in words.
Yesterdays thoughts
documented for a
better day.

Mutilated as
Van Gogh,
troubled as the
artist.
I'm aggressive with
this,
I have no other
choice but to
remain honest.

Accepted
the association
with failure.
Long to be
remembered
for this.
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