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Ms. Miss Me
Messes with the mess
Of Me
Messianic Masonic Messiah
Making mountainous modules
Manufactured from the make-shift
Makings of my soul
Which lifts me
Higher than before
It’s
Mysterious mysticallity
How you made me
After you met me
The misogynistic misogamist misfit
Meets Ms. Perfect
You misled me
You knew I didn’t want to fall in love
I mistreated you
And now
I miss seeing you
Mr. Missed Her
Mistakenly misunderstood
Her magic
For a trick
My mania must mean
I’m
Malevolently maiming my mind
Never mind me
NO!
Forever mind me
You’re forever mine
Even if only in the mind
My metal moccasins
Stump through
The mine field
On my quest to find you
Again
Constant explosions
Milling
A million
M-80’s to make
A metaphor
Of the fire within
The fireworks
I mean
Hopefully the fire works
I destroyed your
Mint commission
I meant condition
Your mint condition
Was devalued
From my mixed intentions
And messages
Monotonous tasks
To get you back
I get your back
And stay forever
In your past

Empty
M.T.
Mt. Empty

You built me
Just to leave me
Empty
Depression is staying in bed all day
Knowing beside you the demons lay
Not having the strength to stand tall
Knowing if you get up you’ll just fall
It’s feeling alone in a crowded room
Like a wilted flower that cannot bloom
It’s sleeping just to get away from reality
Tossing and turning becomes normality
they asked me
what did YOU do today to make the world a better place?
i looked down at my feet
embarassed
"i woke up"
i said
"i got out of bed"
they looked at me, puzzled
"i didn't let depression win"
a small smile crept across my face
no, my dear, the world the world
what did you do to make  the world  a better place
i took a deep breath
"i told the girl in the bathroom mirror she was beautiful"
"i told the boys to stop bullying the girl in the hallways though i wonder if they heard me"
"i told the empty hallways i'd be okay"
i told depression i'd bury it
i woke up
i got up
i stood up
and i hit "play"
He smokes all those ******* cigarettes.
All of them every ******* day
I don't know what makes him think he can smoke the sadness away
But boy, does he try,
He tries so **** hard.

He tries to blind his demons by fogging his mind
He comes to me high, saying he can't feel a thing
And I say I know what you mean, boy, I know what you mean
But you can't chase away the pain with drugs and a drink
He doesn't always need to be so tough
I wonder if I could make him forget
I wonder if my love could be enough

How can something so broken make me feel so beautiful?
He takes a party mix of pharmacuticals, he's ready to self destruct
Balancing between living and dying I've never seen someone more on the cusp
God, how I wish I could make him happy
I wonder if my love could be enough

But I'm just part of his problem
******* up his emotions even more than they were
It's like setting fire to a train wreck and I'm the instigator
Putting my flames to his propane, maybe a raging fire is the cure

He tells me he needs some space
So I back up a considerable amount and yell if it's enough
But he just whispers back
You'll never be able to fix me
It can't be done
I'm too far gone
Nothing can fix me, not even love


and I finally had my answer
I fell in love with Lust
with his beady greedy eyes
those wandering hands
such a haughty smirk
each scratch and bite, inviting
as he stole each selfish kiss
I fell deeper into his arms
the lack of emotion, and superficial charm.
I was twisted around callous fingers
Each meeting an adventure.
Each encounter so exciting.
The perfect romance.

But when Lust fell in love with me…
it was boring, he was too sweet
Too kind, too predictable.
I craved something else,
You might say, I became  Lust
and then found myself another love.
 Oct 2014 Margaret Austin Go
r
a learning experience
- the detailed
timing and precision

- a certain etiquette
in the rise and fall
of hands and feet

i learned the walk
- mirrored on the toe
of a spit-shined boot

shooting imaginary doves
in white gloves -

the proper fold
of the cloth
- tight and taught
with stars above

the tri-fold - not
a trifling thing we're told

the color of a mother's tears
and grip of a father's grief -
the why in the cry of a child

- sad song of the bugler
on a windswept hill
standing in the detail.

r ~ 10/29/14
He needed contacts to see
although his sight was sharp
he was blinded by the sight of me
unable to overlook the love-proof tarp

he needed a brace to straighten out
his back, perfectly aligned
yes, he needed a brace to straighten out
he was in trouble all of the time

i needed rehab to cleanse my soul
i've been drug free all my life
for my heart had been buried in a hole
loving him brought me this strife

he needed hearing aids to hear my words
"i love you is all i'd say"
he'd pay more attention to the flying birds
and i'd love my life away

i needed a brain to make me think
i was wasting all of my time
on a boy that made my heavy heart sink
and for that pain there is no rhyme

A pen and paper is all I need
unfortunately no words to write
for even if there was a letter to read
his mind would be on someone else at night

i need some stitches for these wounds
no operation was performed
my love for him just bled right through
his feelings never formed

you needed ears to hear my song
a heart to know it's true
my fantasy could not last long
i'm living it through *you
I want you so badly
to hold you in my arms and to be held in yours
but how can you and I be,
when I am just a shadow underneath a shaded tree?
A better view they cannot see
see me crying
trying to impress the less knowledgable
skimming through your details
bypassing the fine print
in which i have made my mind a home
yet i'm hidden
blended with the clouds that passersby admire and watch
while you fill their heads with your beautiful words
Ears were meant for hearing but mine filter your sounds
into love
life's filters are meant to cleanse the vile and harmful thoughts
that are trapped in my mind
polluting us
for I am your secret
a hidden shadow too outspoken to be heard
too quiet to be listened to
I want so badly to be discovered
remove that stain which blocks your view of me
that area not polished
for its landscape is too rough to house
my most tender and buried emotions
strumming your heart strings with calloused fingers
your heart strings even more so
Perhaps that's why the sounds are so sweet
to us and no one more
open up to me
it is time to walk through that crooked door
together
I, me, and your shadow
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