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 Aug 2015 Luiza Ramires
PrttyBrd
Your beautiful soul deserves
so much more
than my shadows
8815
10w
Everyday it gets harder.
Everyday it is a nightmare
                progressing on and on.
Everyday is another prayer
           echoing from my bones,
asking God to please take me now.
Everyday I close up more and more.
    It is getting more impossible to stay here.
Everyday I feel myself die more and more.
     When I  lay down each night,
I wonder how ill leave this hell..
       I never felt so much pain.
hope you like it.
You were good at
                                               flying                      
                                                                ­                away

                                           ­                                     I lay flat
                                                            ­                    against
                                     ­                                           the
                  ­                                                              ear­th

The day the sun scorched
                                                     your                
                                            ­                                 wings
                                                           ­                                y
                                                               ­                                o
                                                               ­                                    u
                                    
                                                                ­                                       f
                                                               ­                                      e
                                                               ­                                       l
                        ­                                                                 ­               l

                                               ­                                            and I was there
                                                           ­                                      to meet you

                                                            ­                            We can rest now,
                                                            ­                                                 love.
          
                                                                ­                        We can rest               
                                             ­                                                           forever.
Some days I feel like I'm out of inspiration.
Some days I write love letters to dead birds.
 Aug 2015 Luiza Ramires
A Writer
I wish I could tear my skin away to show you the scars unseen.
So you could see how my hearts been beaten and battered,
Stomped, forgotten,
And worst of all,
ripped apart.
If you could see the story of my heart,
Yours would cry for mine.
But this thick skin doesn't open up easily,
Or for just anyone.
It protects so that my heart sustains no more injuries or pain.
Incessant and sometimes cliche echoes
Reverberate against the lockers in the halls.
We were walking as sentient vehicles—
Our souls shoved into our pockets
By Sylvia, Allen or Walt. Which was it?
 Aug 2015 Luiza Ramires
flustered
she hadn't
felt anything
for so
long
she started
to thank people
for hurting her.
 Aug 2015 Luiza Ramires
sanch kay
and every time
you break my heart,
i learn to bleed
in *prettier patterns.
i miss you and i know that being apart is a bad idea.
a broken bridge
connected their hearts.
a silent conversation
between their minds.
an inconsolable affinity
between their souls.
They struggled to
come over distances.
But the distances never
existed ******,
They had consumed their
Spirits*...
Always wearing the tough guy hat
Showing others the tough wall that she has built
Making them believe that nothing and no one can break through
That the wall is made of steel
When in reality it's being put back together with cheap duct tape each night

At nights, she cracks
She can't hold it in anymore
At nights, she is most herself
Broken, but her true self. No masks no putting any shows, just herself

She can't understand what she's feeling and that is killing her
Who are you supposed to understand and know better if not yourself?

She kept finding herself leaning toward wolves and their stories
People fearing the howls not realizing it's a cry for help
Perhaps she could relate
Perhaps both are misunderstood by others and themselves
Not knowing who they are and who they should be
Only knowing comfort under the moonlight

As the silent tears find their way down her cheeks
She sleeps at night with few answers
Only to wake up with more questions that she cannot find the answers to
She keeps waking up more confused than the day before
Making her wonder: "is this all that I am? Is this all that I can be?"
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