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L A Lamb Jun 2015
I don’t mind being criticized
If I’m wrong, tell me so
Let me know, so
I can go about doing right
And I just might find the solution
The retribution
The redistribution of answers
Being held from us
Preventing us from knowing
What knowledge is growing somewhere else in life

That’s what they say
But that’s what they all say
Convey threats to war
Scare us because they know we’re not sure
Send warnings then bombings exploding
everything, incessant destruction
so maybe it doesn't matter
if I'm right or wrong, I'm being criticized
as long as I can adapt to thinking
and can think about adapting
I just want to do what's right
so I write to figure it out
But I doubt what I see,
do my hand deceive me when
my words show that everything is wrong?
L A Lamb Jun 2015
Are more than basic questions
and constantly questioning "why
did I leave?
So suddenly?"
and "did I do the right thing?"

Was I selfish,
only thinking about me,
my future and my reality
was it only an escape
because I thought I couldn't handle it
and couldn't cope
or because I wanted a challenge and to broaden my scope
L A Lamb Apr 2015
Drinking beer by a garbage can
Does that make me ******
No, it makes me sneaky
Flies surround me
It's better than being caught
And scolded: "drinking is bad"
Sketchy things I do to drink alcohol
I still consider it worth it.
I watch the wispy clouds, and flies
Buzzing, mirroring my mind as I  wonder how I made it to 23 years old
So fast.
L A Lamb Apr 2015
He didn't know that he invested in being left and getting cheated on, bereft of commitment, suddenly it all went wrong; I took a turn back to what I had before, just to reaffirm I don't have that anymore. Vows: we never said them and I don't know that we will, but I'm honest as can be when I say I love him still.
L A Lamb Mar 2015
I cope through poetry. I cope by confessing through writing what I cannot say yet want to convey. So here it goes: I suppose you wonder why I went astray, in my mind, in our reality, why I packed up and left, as if I wanted to forget, how much we meant to each other; my brother: if you knew how I wept in your absence--I hate to think of you as past tense, but know this: I did not dismiss your heart but rather I wanted a new start, and it's still for you my love burns and one day I will return.
I know it's concerning but my love's still burning, for it's you I adore like no one before, and now in the moment I'm torn with great torment, wondering if in time you might change your mind, and yet while it's my doing, it's just you I'm pursuing.
Though my presence may lack, I expect to come back, and return to your arms, free of all mental qualms, though I am a bit queer, my affection perseveres, and don't get me wrong, it's been you all along, I just needed some time, to find what's going through my mind, and I admit I got scared, for such love I felt unprepared, but my feelings are discerning and it's you for whom I'm yearning, and although I hesitate, I hope you can endure the wait; please just say you won't perish boo because I love and cherish you, but should you say we're done, just know I had a lot of fun, and I would never ever spite you, because love, there's no one like you; I'll never forget you and I'm so happy I met you.
L A Lamb Oct 2014
It used to be fun but I’m not myself anymore. This brand of whiskey has two first names, the latter name plural, Cheap and vile. Swig. Shot. Giggle. Hold his gaze. Break it. Sip mixed with coke. Gulp. Chug. Chew the ice. Suppress urge to *****. Is my nose bleeding? No—just runny. Still numb. Too many lines. Euphoria beats sitting home alone wanting to hang myself, but I shouldn’t have done this. He touches me. Laughs. What a narcissist, a drunk ******* narcissist. I want to slap him. Instead I reach for his belt. How are my hands functioning? He helps because I’m struggling. We laugh. We get naked. I stumble on top. There it is. Turn my face away because we don’t kiss. I’m sweating. How long have I been here? His shoulders and head are leaned back, his hips thrusting upward. His slight cringe and increased breathing indicates I’m done. I rise. He smiles. I fake it. Get up and get dressed. My heart is pounding. I should shower. I put on my bra, then dress (where’s my underwear?)
L A Lamb Oct 2014
I wrote several years ago, a scrap of paper with wondering thoughts--lost.

Delinquent, ovulating, *****, lovers, ***
devil, ****, lies, logic, science
dalliance, omission, legality lost, sultry
does oppression look like ***--yes:
It was forced, it ran it's course
but it still runs, runs runs
silently, but in actuality, loud
quietly, but it prowls, hunting for calamity
a sad reality-- a tragedy
with wicked twists which linger
on my wrists, hips and thighs
charred with scars and lies,
I lied: with my thighs
when i let you in, it wasn't a sin
but a lesson I learned, as a girl
and education I didn't earn
--but I sure paid for
no cause for concern
but I find it discerning, sick
and disturbing--you seek dolls
so fine, glossed pretty pink lips
that shine, lips like mine
but there is no crime,
put a price on a doll
and say she's worth a dime.
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