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some men got a woman.
some men got a man.
me, I just got a guitar.
lord, how I love my one man band.

shalimar's my guitar.
shalimar, she's my strings.
when I get to crying,
that's when shalimar starts to sing.
©  Passius Ashe   1999, 2015
Its not that your a ****** person
You just seem that way
Your by no means stupid
Your just oblivious
And you are very beautiful
I just hate the personality attached to your face
We all have things about ourselves we dont like
Each and every person is their own worst enemy.

Seems ironic that where I type should be called the "body"
When all there is to it, im not happy with my body.

I could never stand to look at myself in the mirror,
I am not overweight, more ideal for my height but nearing underweight
I dont have my face covered in boils and acne, though my back is acne ridden, not that I care
I am very very tall, I hated it
I think most of all I hated that certain area of my body...
How could anyone take to it..?

The day you saw my body you told me you loved it
My height was perfect and that it was right height to be able to cuddle into my chest
You told me I had a nice body and abdomen, I started to love myself.

One day you saw me in nothing, and at the moment I thought youd no longer love me the same you told me I was ****
So why is it I still cant love me, why is it that even now that area is the one place Im not perfect...
Do I dare even type it..?
...I have no obligation or need to but suddenly I wasnt perfect

My perfect imperfection

Suddenly you thought differently, viewed me in your head different and It just wasnt the same

I never loved myself, you helped me to love me but despite my best efforts I could never help you to love your body...
Now I struggle to love mine...and find sorrow in you not loving yours...

We are perfect as we are...If only we believed those words...
I dont even know anymore...
We are our own worst enemies
Everybody is a critic

You never loved your body and would cover the mirror anytime you saw it
It was never good enough for you and felt for others also
You told me how disgusting you were, how overweight and sunken your faced looked.
Told me how ugly you were and how your legs werent worth looking at
Until the day I first saw you I had no evidence to argue, but then I did see you...
...and you blew my mind
You were drop dead gorgeous in my eyes, the way your eyes shyly looked at me and the corners of your mouth creeped upward.

One day I saw you in nothing and my heart did it race
You were always beautiful, never once not, morning or night
But in nothing your body was perfect, your shape, and just every bit of you from head to toe I loved

Yet no matter what I said...you rejected the idea and refused to believe you were...
You couldnt see what I saw or feel what I felt...and it sunk my heart to see you view yourself so negatively

My perfect imperfection

I saw beauty in you where youd never felt like acknowledging, and the day I saw...there...you knew I wouldnt love you the same...but I did
I told you I loved you unconditionally and I thought you were perfect and you smiled
I thought id planted the seeds inside yourself to finally love you for you...

...guess I was wrong...
The mirror was covered this morning...
Where have I gone wrong...?
 Jun 2015 Kiarra Dean
Ryan Unger
There was this guy Bart that I met in Prague,
Told me his girlfriend lived down in a bog.
“She’s big and she’s green, with long yellow fangs,
And seaweed hangs off of her head like green bangs.

The first time I met her she bit off my hand, and spit it out next to me into the sand.
The next time I met her, this guy Bart he said,
“If she bites you again, I’ll cut off her head.”

Well this time she bit off my leg, and she even ate Bart,
That’s when I decided that I had to start,
Thinking of ways to get rid of this creature,
So I hobbled to town to talk to the preacher.

“It’s love that it need!” he beamed at me,
“Just show it some love, and then you’ll see.”
So to the bog I went with love to share,
Bart’s girlfriend came out, and greeted me with a stare.

I shouted at her, “I came to share love!”
And offered her the preacher’s precious white dove.
Well she snatched up the dove, broke it in two,
Threw it aside and said “Now onto you!”

I turned to run as fast as I could,
But was bitten in half like an old piece of wood.
My final thought before I had died,
Was that love had solved nothing, the preacher had lied.
---

on a hill stood wicked tree
a single root, branches three

one branch was war
one branch was want
one branch was greed
horrid haunt

its root was pride
its power great
acid soil of perfect hate

its bark like scabs
sulfuric green
a stunted growth
twisted . mean

lichen of ignorance
crusted there
on the north side
of despair

black mushrooms
sprouted from its pores
growing from
starvation's spores

and yet it thrived and gave its fruit
they were put forth by the root

these carried seeds to plant in season
they want it growing for some reason

they plant it lone upon a hill
where it can grow
it's growing
still

it grows from you
it grows from me
we feed that hateful

wicked tree


soulsurvivor
rewritten
(c) 6/13/2015
first draft 2014
when will we water
LOVE
?

---
 Jun 2015 Kiarra Dean
Charlotte
Listen to me. You are not no-one, you are someone. You are you. That is important. Be proud.
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