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You were just a line
A line so faint I couldn't believe it
But then you became two lines
Three lines
Four lines.

Scattered out on my bathroom floor.
Its amazing, what lines can do
To a twenty year old girl.

I couldn't even say the words out loud.
But its been 9 months since those lines
And you're not here.
And all the thoughts I wouldn't let myself think
They're all too real.

Perhaps your name was Audrey
And you had your daddy's curls
Maybe you would've had your mommy's nose

Perhaps your name was Elijah
And you had your mommy's eyes
Maybe you would've had your daddy's smile

Or maybe I would've never known you
And you'd never know my name
I'd dream about you every night
As you lay far away.

I wasn't ready
For those little lines
Nor was your daddy
He cried.

I remember how I shook
The night you went away
The crying and the aching
I wanted you to stay.

I'll never hold your hand
You'll never ask to play
And I will never know
What it is like to hear your voice

But I am healing
I think less of your loss
Than I do my inability to care
You deserved better than I had.
 Jun 2015 Kristin Ramskow
Angie S
At 2 am broken thoughts
Seeped out of my skin and soaked the bedsheets
At 1 am writing diary entries
Because happy things happened and
Forgetting sadness requires remembering happiness
At 12 am on the computer
Wasting away life for a lack of motivation,
Becoming motivated,
And then self loathing for wasting life
At 11 pm drawing a picture
(Because someone else wanted it)

The things i really want
They are scattered in between the carpet
And peel and tear at my feet when i walk across it
At 2 am im a broken thought
Its 2 am and i feel really ****** (again)
but i found myself writing again so thats a start
I went down in search of the bottom.
I Burrowed down through the filth of us all,
past blooded money and bodies turned rotten,
and found myself locked, somewhat, in a cell.
A large cell, however, but still without bottom.
They whipped me for years and with years upon years.
Though I never saw their face, I heard their tears
fall never to find a bottom.

Those tears are chaos- from and for nothing.
My pain is chaos- from and for nothing.
I descended down the structure I had been confined,
only to find it was bottomless, unstable and ill designed.
My journey was chaos- from and for nothing.
My punishment chaos- from and for nothing.
Now I burrow to escape deeper into my mind.
To let the constructs come crumbling- to lay flat those living lines.
 Jun 2015 Kristin Ramskow
Urmila
Every mark I try to make,
Turns into a scar;
Maybe I should just be a wallflower,
live and die,
Till I return to the night sky a star

— The End —