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one. ****. she'll make you curse a lot.
that's all that'll roll off your tounge everytime you'd want to describe how she makes you feel.

two. that girl is funny. i don't think you can have a bad day if she's around. i don't even think she'll try to make you laugh, i think with her it comes naturally.

three. she'll make you feel alive. you will want to experience it all with no one else but her. she'll keep you at a high you'd never reach on your own. DON'T bring her down with you when you hit rock bottom. DON'T drag her with you anywhere she doesn't belong.

four. she'll sometimes be out of reach. more like, most times. let her be. she deserves all your time. all your days and nights. but only if she asks for it. you should a l w a y s check up on her, though. (ask how her day went. ask her how she's feeling.) make sure her "i'm okay" is sincere. make sure her days are more than just "fine".

five. listen to her. she'll always have something to say about everything, but she won't always say it. listen to her. let her talk about everything she wants to talk about. talk about it with her. i doubt you'll ever have enough of her.

six. when she doesn't want to talk, don't ask her to. be comfortably silent with her when she needs some quiet, but make sure your presence is loud. don't ever make her feel alone.

seven. she's special. treat her like she is. you should n e v e r let her second guess what she means to you. you should n e v e r make her rethink your love for her.

eight. don't go through one day without telling her you love her. she won't believe you, but you should never stop reminding her. she doesn't have to feel what you feel back, but she has to acknowledge that someone out there has her on their mind, day and night. always let her know she's important.

nine. she can be stubborn, and at most times she will be. i have a love/hate relationship with that quality of hers. let her have her own way. don't bug her about her choices. but, keep in mind there's nothing wrong with not agreeing with her sometimes.

ten. don't hurt her. not because she's fragile, but because she doesn't deserve it. for ***** sake, she deserves more than you can ever offer.  and for that, you should give her your all. or at least you should keep trying to

eleven. don't just tell her you trust her, but also show her you do. she won't take your word for it. let her in. open up. spill your heart out to her, and know she'll have her arms wide open. she won't let you seep through.

twelve. she's passionate. i can imagine her eyes gleaming when she talks about what she loves. you can feel it through your phone screen. i'll hunt you down and feed on your flesh if you try to shut her up. yes, she is passionate, but not about most things. and she won't talk about it with everyone. so you better ******* listen when she tries to share this part of herself with you. or leave. ******* leave her if you won't love her right.

thirteen. she's smart as ****. not the lame, "i get good grades" kinda smart. but the kind, that never fails to blow my mind. treasure her brain.

fourteen. i've never seen someone who wants to read as much as she does, but has zero willpower to. read to her. read to her like i've always wanted to, but never got the chance to. whether it be prose or fiction, or some fact you read off the newspaper. never stop reading to her.

fifteen. please, never lie to her. don't make promises you can't keep. you'll lose her. ****. if you lost her, you would lose all that could make your life meaningful.

sixteen. don't give up on her. please, never give up on her. she's not always easy to deal with, and neither are you. but to god, she's worth it. she's worth all of it.

seventeen. you'll never love her more than i do. but you sure as **** need to try your ******* best to make sure you're never the reason behind any of her troubles. don't **** up. don't **** up like i did.
Soda becomes *****,
bikes become cars,
kisses turn into ***.

Remember when dad's shoulders was the highest place on earth,
your mom was your hero.
Race issues was when who cloud run the fastest
War was only a card game.
The most pain you felt was when you skinned your knees.
Goodbyes only meant till tomorrow,
You and friends never worried about boys and girls,
Falling in love and evolving into shattered hearts and fragile
word that meant everything.
Drama didn't exist.


and we couldn't wait to grow up...
Let's Hold Up Our Glasses And Make A Toast

Here's To The Liars,
The Cheaters,
The Hatrers,
And The Women Beaters  

Here's To The Feet Draggers,
Body Baggers,
The Backstabbers,
And The Joint Draggers

Here's To The DUI Kills,
People Tryin To Keep It "Trill",
People Who Don't Reach To Pay The Bill,
And To The People Who Need A Refill

Here's To The Governments Killing Their Own,
Here's To Telemarketers Who Blow Up My Phone,
To The People In My Life Who Keep Breaking Me,
To That One Boy With A Heart Cold As Stone

Here's To The Chemistry Tests,
Being Enternally Upset,
Enternally Recked,
Here's To The People Who Scream In My Face

Here's To All The Pain,
Heres To The Knifes Which Have Cut A Vein,
To All The Guys Who Just Wanna Piece Of ***
Heres To All The People I Dread In My Math Class

As You Can See.. I'm Not Even Holding A Glass
Sorry For The Language, Just Tryin To Think Of Rhymes:)I Tried To Make The Format Look Like A Bottle On A Coaster So You Could See I Wasn't Holding It:)
They will tell you there is a right way.
They will hand you a torch and call it the sun.
They will roll their words in raw linen and whisper:
"This is what poetry is meant to be."

And you will nod.
Because they have made it so that not nodding feels like blasphemy.

But listen—
the ink does not check your credentials.
The meter does not ask if your suffering is organic.
A line does not collapse because it was crafted instead of bled.

They will tell you a poem must be naked, barefoot, aching—
as if there is no beauty in a well-cut suit.
They will decry the temple and build a pulpit in its ruins,
preaching freedom in a voice that allows no dissent.

Good poets are cult leaders,
and the first rule of the cult
is that they are not one.

So write the sonnet, carve the sestina,
sculpt the page in iambic steel.
Or break it, shatter it, scatter its bones—
but let no one call your wreckage untrue.

And if they do,
smile.
Because poetry does not kneel to priests.
A counter-point mirrored in style to:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4983752/good-words-are-clickbait/

The morale of the story is:

try not to dictate creation and by extension freedoms.
I blink, and I’m different
I don’t recognize who I see
I look in the mirror
At a face that is far from pretty
This girl, her eyes are sad
I look away in disgust
No love for her to be had
This girl, her face reveals hate
Hatred for herself
A common trait
This girl, she can’t stand to see
Her own face, without wanting to be
Someone else
I blink, and I’m different
I don’t recognize who I see
I look in the mirror
This girl, she is me.
Call me a ****
I'm a ******.
Call me a ****
I was *****.
Call me a ****
I want to have ***.
Call me a ****
I *******.

Call me a ****
I fell in love.
Call me a ****
I kissed a boy.
Call me a ****
I touch myself.
Call me a ****
there's things I enjoy.

Call me a ****
he hurt me.
Call me a ****
I said no.
Call me a ****
he did it anyway.
Call me a ****
I don't know.

Call me a ****
I can hear you.
Call me a ****
scream it loud.
Call me a ****
although I might cut.
Call me a ****
like you're proud.

Call me a ****
it will hurt me.
Call me a ****
This I swear.
Call me a ****
I know it's not true.
Call me a ****
it's not fair.

— The End —