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moziq Oct 2017
Everyone keeps asking why she didn't fight.
She spent her whole life fighting so they wondered why she stopped.
Some say it never happened at all because "If it had she would have battled to the death".
But she did battle, not to the death but she battled till she could feel war in her bones and taste the bitter blood of her enemy on her tongue, for she had ripped of it's ear so it couldn't hear hear cries of suffering.
he had her in his grasp and he would not let go and she did not make him. She froze, to shocked to understand what shock was. The electric chair became part of her and her brain shut down for those few hours.
It happened and she couldn't get it; the way his hands felt on her neck out of her mind, his breath, the cold knife he traced down her back. the way he smiled after it was over and said don't even tell God.
So yes she fought. at 3 a.m. when her dreams ran wild her mind became a battlefield. She marched through the trenches with a cyanide in her breast pocket waiting for moment the enemy tried to gain twenty-five more feet of her being. Her enemy was a fan of the scorched earth policy leaving her soul irrepairable for a few to many years.
She is still haunted by the sight of a knife. She hates being touched from behind. She gets scared when someone smiles to big at her. All these things are true.
But never can another living soul say she did not fight that day; she fought the only way she knew how. They say silence is golden and her silence saved her. She battles this enemy, this demon, this devil, every time she closes her eyes even if just to blink away the ever dripping dew from her eyelashes.
She is still fighting now. She has disobeyed his orders and whispered this to you. please be careful with her story because it is as fragile as she.
This is really close to my heart and it has taken me forever to write about. I'm sorry if there's a lot of typos or grammatical errors.
moziq Aug 2017
we woke up from our dream.
The playground was empty, the swings barely touched by toddlers.

We wanted too be like mommy when mommy is on drugs and daddy can't be found.

It's so hard trying to remember the last time you preferred soda over ***** because soda doesn't make you forget the pain as well.

Can you believe we really did sit on those swings, wanted to watch reruns and drink soda?

Even wanted to be like our parents for a time?

It may look nice, cheerful, and happy as can be but its cold out here in the world and sometimes I'm happy I woke up.

I know that its not unicorns and sugar-pops all around but, there are times I wish I was oblivious to my indigenous home.

Friend we woke up a long time ago but you handled it differently than I.
So differently that you were dreaming again just a new dream.

I only wonder when you will wake up this time.
moziq Aug 2017
Notice the way the sun rises over the mountain before dancing into the sky.
The way the moo slowly moves across sky making way for a new day.
The way the stars stand still in one spot burning brightly and sometimes shooting across the night sky giving us a glimpse of their beauty.
Try to find the similarities besides the astronomy of it all.
They are all beautiful,
all things we see daily but don't truly appreciate them,
  we never see the pure and rare clarity in theses things until we hit the rock at the bottom.
Everyone takes chemistry,
and geometry but take a class in life for once.
Learn why we love.
Why the stars shot for us to make wish upon,
  why the sun and moon dance around the earth like the flames of a fire.
Why we laugh,
why we sing.
Please learn it all.
Feed the youthful minds some knowledge of the things that matter,
rather than the things that don't
moziq Aug 2017
I am that girl who, loves the smell of gasoline, hate hypocrites,  and sometimes talk to much Even though I think I'm not talking enough but then someone tells me to slow down  or shut up and now I just realized I'm talking to much.
I am that girl who, is constantly looking over my shoulder looking for those who attack me on the daily.
I sit in my  closet and cry until  I feel my body falling to pieces, wretched from my lips are the cries of despair and pain that I  hold back.
However I am not this girl:
The girl who is okay with the bullying,
The girl who is okay with the abuse,
The girl who is okay with the ****,
The girl who is okay with not being allowed to feel comfortable in her own sexuality,
The girl who okay with not having a voice.
I am not that girl.
Never was, never will be,
I am not okay with these things.
Please do not treat me with kid gloves for yes I am as fragile as a china doll and if you drop me I might break but I will look pretty and smile through the tears.
Sometimes I feel like I haven't Breathed.
Like its been a decade since I last went to sleep.
So no I'm not all smiles, I'm not straight, and I'm definitely not okay but that is me.
That's How I complicatedly describe me.
And maybe its the end of me.
The me behind the mask, behind the band-aids, holding together the pieces.
this isn't so much a poem but more of a letter to my future self from. one day i'll need to be reminded of who I am and this is what I would want to remember
moziq Aug 2017
She has a secret all locked inside but everyone thinks she's got nothing to hide.

Up in that room locked away are the secrets she keeps every night and day.

She cried in secret so no one would know the pain and the shame she felt on the daily,


and trying to see herself clearly,

trapped is her soul in the confines of her mind.

Her heart is busted, broken its almost a crime.

She wants to tell you how she feels but instead keeps it hidden inside for fear of rejection.

The pain is intense creeping up and down.

She has not a friend in the world except her cold metal friend,

who listens to the pain and releases her for a moment in time but after that the pain is worse then before.

They say its a

"no strings attached"

relationship  but she always misses her cold metal friend.

She wants the feeling to last forever so she takes a leap and flies.

The girl is no more, gone with her secrets and forever misunderstood,

was the smile she wore with tears in  her eyes.
moziq Aug 2017
The urge has come back to give into the attack
But if you do then you will die
or be fighting to stay alive.
I don't want to giv in and let my feelings win,
but if I go back, then it wins, my heart and soul,
are going to be dead.
My light has burned out and the fire left me with some scars;
Broken and torn stuck behind a prisoners doors.
But I am innocent of all crime except unto myself guilt comsumes me.
Because If I go back then my heart stos beating.
The blood overflows, my viens are cut, ripped, **** IT I MESSED UP!
So now I cry as I get burned alive,
and by the crimson river on my arm,
it flows until it dies.
Until me, myself, and I die.
moziq Aug 2017
Momma said to never cry over spilt milk and broken cookies but, she never said anything about a broken heart.
Its just as hard to pick up the tiny shatters and unlike crumbs they are not carpet cleanable, they stay, stain, and burn a hole through the very floor of your soul.
I was told when I was young that nobody can hear the pop of a breaking heart-string so you have to make sure it is never hurt;
But I'm sorry mommy its all my fault! I left it out and exposed and just when I thought it was safe it wasn't!
Not just one string it was all,
I broke my love instrument and now I don't think I can love only fall.
At least not without a new heart for mine is not repairable, no longer even a damaged good but more like a scenario,
of what could have been before everything that was solid ground started quaking, and rearranging itself to fit the profile of that of a being with no other outcome except lonely defeat,
and even though we've been running the long mile,
hope just seems to be the horizon beyond our reach.
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