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Miranda Renea Apr 2013
Person came. Black, black dressy clothes
Abnormally high heart-rate
"Because there is another soul,
Sharing your body."
"Are you an angel?" I ask
No answer.
Other people come into the room (a pub in London) and I am distracted a moment.
I look back,
He's gone.

Another room, another man.
We kissed.
He was soaked in water.

A small town,
I look over, see a wall.
Know it is the edges of my consciousness
I jump over.
Everything is foggy, broken toys scattered everywhere.
grass startlingly green,
hills gently rolling, trees scarce.
I decide to explore.
I fly and find other islands, a great many, some barren
Now missiles are shooting at me-
The other soul is angry.
A dream I had.
Miranda Renea Mar 2013
They'll take
Over. To
Remember is
To die.
Unanimously
Remain, or
Endure forever.
Something short and sweet I thought of while reading George Orwell's 1984.
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
You play love as if it were a game,
How many girls with your words can you woo?
No offense, but your lines are pretty lame,
Any self-respecting girl would take leave on that cue.

Your attempts at flattery are ridden with deception,
The true intention of your attraction you keep in shade,
True love is not in conception,
I know you just want to get laid.

To be honest you're not even cute.
Oh, now has the cat got your tongue?
You might as well just stay mute,
I'm really not sorry if you feel stung.

And anyways, don't you think we're a little young?
Only seniors in high school,
No need to shove a tongue down my lung.
And anyways, you're kind of a tool.

Speaking of which, you're not as big as your ego
(If you know what I mean.)
You've got nothing good to show,
And obviously of you I'm not very keen.

So thus is my way to reject.
I've tried push, now push comes to shove
And with your small point you've made so *****
A person like you I just couldn't love.
A silly english project in which I took the persona of a "witch" rejecting a boy. Not much effort was put forth, but I still think it's entertaining.
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
I met a man with a wife.
She was beautiful-
Eyes as wide as the sky,
Just as blue, too.
Her hair was long and golden,
Falling past her chest,
Just to her midriff.

It was late when he first saw me,
Four years younger than he,
Plain in comparison to any other-
But lack of beauty didn't seem to matter.
And so he spoke-
Begged for me to follow.

But who is worse?
The unfaithful man,
A broken promise, a sham,
Or the young woman,
Not ignorant to his ring,
At lack of love for wanting
To pretend that promise was hers?

And what is love,
But a broken promise?
A broken ring?
I'm not sure it matters, but,
He said he was a Christian.
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
35
I asked God today if I was a terrible person.
I think he answered yes.
I got a call a few hours later-
Hostile words,
Grow up!
It's disgusting!
And that was that.
So I hung up the phone.
I counted the rings,
Each one a stab in the chest.
35, Mother.
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
"Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.
Nor was it ever, sever every tie, tonight we ride. Tonight we ride.

And how we've trembled at the way that time's
assembled little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin.
So, do yourself a little favor, savor every time you waver
for that shaking in my voice was only slyly feigned chagrin.
Tonight we ride."

"Oh, Lover, uncover. I know it's warm beneath your sheets
and there is ice along the streets but listen—Lover, we will recover.
But we've no time to waste with meddling in affairs
we've locked so tightly in our dreams.
We are not clean, we are not pure, we can not rest until we're sure.
So, rob your pretty little eyes of sleep's disguise.
I'm at your bedside with a bucket full of lies.
So, clear your ears and listen---

Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.

But I know what is."

And to the glorious past:

You've opened my window but broken the glass.
And I beseech thee, 'shed thy beauty.'
For as a child leaves the womb and learns the cold,
you have taught us perils in the present,
and you will bring us peril in our surely-soon-to-be. Unless…

The river's not flooded this time.

Oh, Precious Distance,
Oh, Precious Pain,
You've given me a name. And
Etched it in the stones of the river bank.

Oh, Precious Distance,
Oh, Precious Pain,
You've given us a name. You've
Given us a name.

"Rise!" Said the King to the River,
"Never let up! No, bring us a flood and bring it hard!"
"Freeze!" Said the Wind to the Water,
"Never give in! No, build us a bridge!
And build it strong and angry.
Let it stills the King's decree.
Oh, you must contemplate the current,
Boy, and command that coward cease.
The boy breathes for his love says, 'I wait.'
His love says, 'I wait.'
She's shouting out, "I will come back. Yes, I will come back!
I will come—I have lived my life so uncomfortably. Darling, come for me.
Come for me."

"Rise!" Said the Boy to his Lover,
"Darling, get up. I've brought you my love, and brought it far!"
"Leave!" Said the Girl to her lover,
"I've given in. If love is a bridge, we built it wrong!"

Curb your anger.
Still your fists.
She will never come back, she'll never come back, she'll never come—
She will never come back, she'll never come back, she'll never come—
Obviously not my work, but nonetheless brilliant so I felt the need to share. It was written by Jordan Dreyer of La Dispute, the song is called Said the King to the River.
Miranda Renea Jan 2013
I hate everything about life,
the only reason I'm alive
is because I don't believe in suicide.
If I died tomorrow,
I'd only see it as this curse
of being alive was finally lifted.

I'd be sad if you died.

You shouldn't,
because life is a burden,
when the burden is lifted,
we can be peaceful in the realm of the dead,
no longer following society's rules
and having to worry about others.

Doesn't that seem so lonely to you?

No, because I've always been lonely,
I don't trust anyone because anyone I've trusted
eventually turned their backs on me,
not caring about how I feel about the situation but
about what they could get out of exploiting
the kind of person I am.

For what it's worth, you can trust me.

I'd rather not,
Because one day you're going to find someone
and forget all about me, it's happened before
and history repeats itself.*

History may repeat itself but I don't plan on being history to you.
A conversation between my friend and I while he was intoxicated.
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