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 Nov 2015 NicoleRuth
L W D
I always heard that drinking killed brain cells.
I was born with too many brain cells.
If I kept killing them, maybe I could finally fall asleep at night.
Or maybe I'd be a dumber, equally as depressed version of myself.
Either way
That fifth of whiskey isnt going to drink itself.
 Nov 2015 NicoleRuth
Dead lover
Although all poets write well, only those becomes popular who learn to respect the work of others..
This is what my favorite teacher used to say.. " do you know what makes a person's work more important?
the ability of the work to adjust with the reader, and that adjustment is only possible when - you learn to respect the sentiments and style of how all express and that's the way you should write.. "

She died in a car mishap, 1 and half year... I posted this in her memory, because If we see - its not just about a writer and his readers, its about all, about everything in fact..
 Nov 2015 NicoleRuth
Phoenix
A letter to The Child Whose Life I Shaped

I pulled that trigger.
I loaded the bullet that changed your life.
Did I think?
No.
I was purely trying to save my own life.
No.
I don’t know where your doll is.
No.
I can’t help your dad.
No.
I can’t get you out of that dark room.
I am so sorry.
I mean,
sorry won’t bring back your doll.
Sorry won’t take that missile off course.
Sorry won’t make the men stop “visiting.”
Sorry won’t do a **** thing,
I can never take back my actions.
I know that I broke you.
I flipped your life upside down and turned it inside out.
I don’t know your name.
I don’t know your favorite color.
If I could go back,
and get to know you,
your favorite food and how old you are,
maybe I would have laid my life down for you.
It is too late to do that.
Too late to save your parents.
And your doll.
And your childhood purity.
No.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know that I was shaping your life.
No.
I just didn’t want to know.
Didn’t want to think about it.

Sincerely,
The Man Who Drastically Changed Your life
A response to A letter to the man who gave me this life, written from the perspective of a soldier.
 Nov 2015 NicoleRuth
r
I was ten when
I got caught stealing
blue chalk from the pool hall.

My daddy wore me out
with a black leather belt.

He said *What'd I tell you
about writing sad poems
on the back of the stones
at the orphan's graveyard?
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