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Lily McLaughlin May 2015
I can't speak.
Writing is the only way I can truly communicate.
I mess up my words, I say too much at one time.
The chaos that is forced out of my mouth never seems to come out right.
When my pen hits the paper, or my fingers hit the keys.
I am finally at peace.
The words pour out of me.
Maybe this is what it feels like to finally be free.
Even when I text, my words morph into a confusing mess, but when I write.
I finally won the war against myself.
Against my greatest fear.
Telling the world what I really want them to hear.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Lily McLaughlin May 2015
Stay humble in everything you do.
Appreciate the ones who love you.
The journey to success is never easy.
Never be to proud to show love for those who helped you get your feet off the ground.
They are the honest and brutal ones. They tell you how it is, and they don't sugar coat anything.
They let you know when you are starting to act like you're entitled to everything.
You aren't entitled to anything. You have to work for it.
Be thankful for them, and keep in mind that there is a strong difference between success and fame.
Get over your ego, and remember to always be grateful.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Lily McLaughlin May 2015
Art is meant to open your eyes not your pockets.
It's made for ones who view the world differently.
It reveals the beauty within ones' tragedy.
If you're in it for the money, you aren't in it at all.
If you're in it for the world you better be prepared to fall.
Art is for the healing heart, the lost little girl, the one whose falling apart.
Art is for the hopeful and the lost.
Art is for the ones who want to rip off their disguise.
Art is for the ones who are sick of their own lies.
Art is not for personal gain or ten minutes of fame.
If you're in it for the fantasy you'll be disappointed easily.
You either give it your all expecting nothing or don't start at all.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Lily McLaughlin May 2015
To some homeless means you don't have a place to live.
To me it means you're searching.
You're looking for a hand to hold.
You're still crying over a lost soul.
You're running from solution to solution.
Except you aren't solving anything.
You're getting further and further away from yourself.
You continue to pry open closed doors to sit in the misery of the same results.
You never settle.
You don't have anything to call your own.
You're buried in the walls of your own house, searching for a place to call home.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Lily McLaughlin May 2015
I wanted you to explore me.
I begged for your lips to caress the inside of my hips.
Your sighs became my drive.
As our bodies collided.
I lost track of who I was.
I found myself spilling into your hands.
You had the ugliest name and the most delicious smile.
I was aware of the lies you told me with your eyes.
At that very moment it did not matter.
I did not care.
I felt my myself disappear into the darkest depths of my own curiosity.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Lily McLaughlin May 2015
The coffee stains under my eyes reveal the exhaustion in my mind.
The wrinkles in my sheets, left the scent of your intentions.
I can still feel your hands, I can still taste your lips.
**** you.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Lily McLaughlin May 2015
I slept with the word worthless.
I danced freely in the shadows of lust.
I drank from the cup of greed.

I shot a bullet through the face of regret.
I kissed the surface of my own skin.
I began to feel beautiful again.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-
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