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Poetry saved my life when
i thought things were not
going right. I started writing
when a beautiful man came
into my life. Found a pen in
the bottom of the puddle i
made with my tears. I sat
there for hours. Drank my
wine and walked into the
water made by own eyes.
Should i drown or should i
die i said. Felt a pen under
my feet and thought about
the guy i met. Wrote poetry
on the surface if the water.
I felt oxygen enter my lungs
and the water becoming
shallow I felt my poetry lifting
me up. I wrote my way out
of the deep puddle i cried.
I wrote my way out for him.
Starting with his name and the
details on his skin. Starting
with how i tripped into his
heart while running away from
my own hell. All it took me to
save my life was a pen and a
guy. That's when i decided to
take the goodbyes i said to life
back again. I want to exist. To
marry him. To fight for my rights.
I want to write until i die. And
if the ink in my pen ever dries
i'll use my blood instead and
the tears i cried. I want to turn
my pain into pride. I want to paint
my scars up in the sky* ~
A message each morning
And one in the evening
Someone to confide in
A fresh breath of honesty
A quick sense of humor
The laughter long gone
Echoes in the distance
No guilt and no worries
You are so rushed
Patience is running out
The days grow darker
Just like you
The ashtray gets
Its fair share of cigarettebuds

We waited
...and waited
...and waited

And then you pressed delete
The ashtray broke
The negativity is gone
No going back
I lie down to take a nap
with only a blanket, a cat,
and the image of your perfect eyes.

Plenty enough to keep me warm.

The only thing missing is you.
  ~mce
Love to nap...
Thanks again America.
Long ago, you sent me to war
prepared to shed my blood.
I was lucky, mine was spared.
But some hitchhikers came home with me:
tiny, wriggling, tropical parasites.
They love my aging body.
They are true like ******.
They cannot leave me till I die.
Occasionally, they decide to dance.
No doubt, they enjoy themselves.
All they cost me is fever
and appetite,
sleep and peace of mind.
After all these decades,
you still want my blood,
but now you are content
to trouble it inside my veins.
Thanks Again America.
It's strange the things I remember
I could never really put it down
But it seems to make more sense
Now that I'm required to remember
Things I begged to forget

I wanted to remember the bad
And forget all about the good
Hoping I could put it passed me
And as my brain is an obedient servant
I forgot all the good and kept the bad

It's hard to see you any other way now

I can't remember my first schoolday
Just a few last ones
But I can remember my first word
It was "thank you"
Although I meant to say "please"

I can't remember the names
Of my classmates from primary school
But I remember that day we got lost
I was 3 years old
And how scared I was

Just like that I can't remember
How you made me feel
But I remember what you said
I can't remember what you meant
But I can see the letters appearing before me
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