My Heart is a drunken bipolar maniac with masochistic tendencies .
My Heart does not care about your feelings,
or the fretting of my apologetic Mind.
It is ravenous and deranged;
it will devour your succulent hopes and spit out the bones.
My Heart is one mean *******;
it is a rabid wolverine with a hangover who ate razor-blades for breakfast,
and no, it does not want to go steady
or hold hands.
It wants to rip the soft white throat of your infatuation
and watch your eloquent offerings pool around your feet.

Unless, of course, you do not want me.
For met with that alluring indifference,
my unhinged pit-bull of a Heart will curl at your feet with doe-eyed meekness
and follow you from room to room in an agony of adoration
while Self-Respect and Dignity sulk in some dusty corner, thinking
"Please God, won't somebody muzzle that crazy *****?"

Your blinded by beauty
Clinging to a false sense of dignity
Wrapped up in your self centered vanity
Transfixed by a pretty picture of reality

The respect you claim isn't rightfully yours
As your shallow insight fits to society's words
For a face like yours should be insured
By the materialistic means which bind you to this world

Seeking refuge in what appears before your eyes
You inner self is what you despise
For your definition of beauty is based upon lies
As your falsehood erodes you shall meet your demise

Someone you know, said you're venerable.
But that's not necessarily a bad thing.
It depends on your out look or perspective.

The word, itself, could mean you're worthy of respect.
And carry yourself with dignity.
And of course  you have a protected heart.
One you're saving for a special person.

It doesn't have to be written.
That nobody's want their heart broken.
Words, don't need to be stated.
Cause we all can see that you have a protected heart.

Which isn't meant to be broken

This strange kind of numb has chased away the desolating pain
there seems nothing in the part where love grows
not in the heart or mind or soul
Is this what death feels like?
Every shred of decency you stole in that **** weak moment of betrayal
you shook the hand of the beast that gave the burden
the thief of my dignity
it was an inncent action between men who respect each other
you had had no right to placee all my shreds of respectably in his palms
to anialate me without provacation
to give me up to avoid confronting the truth
you let my pride die a silent death
the humiliation.
the state of shock
and constant scraping up my self off the floor
it was because you found it easier to forgive, than fight for me
so I died A million painful deaths in that moment
like the love that swore it would die a thousand more
it vanished emphasising the nothing that I am
and you didn't even blink an eye.

You drained my soul
Killed the light that shined in my eyes
Took away my happiness, my innocence, my entire essence
You stole the world I had in my hands
You put the weight that I now carry on my shoulders
You are the one to blame for all my slips and falls
Making me hide like a snail in it's shell
I am pushed up against a wall
Hands around my neck
Confined to something I once had an ounce of respect
You contorted me like clay in your hands
Doing with me what you wanted
My dignity replaced by and infinity of empty space
You show as much admiration you would show to a fly on the wall
Like nothing at all
You've made me wilted
In a field of thriving flowers
Damaged goods some might say
Emotional baggage is all the rage
You've got me locked up in your sickening cage
Blocked off from society is what you made me
Unable to connect -You've made me irreversibly inept
Turned me so cold, that even the devil's hot touch can't reverse the effect
All I want you to know
Is how you changed me for the worst, not the best
You are the wicked witch of the west
Good riddance, I owe you no pittance
Seeing your face peering down to my grave
Will inspire me to spit in it
The fact will be preserved that you will not be saved.
You drain my soul.

Women should accommodate for men
Watch life through their lens
Follow the latest a trends
But most of all accommodate for your boyfriends

On men's magazines you see a body builder
A pillar, a vacuum, ******* in space
Toned and cloned
But women must have grace
On a women's magazine you see weight loss
Clearly we cannot be the boss
Go apply your lipgloss

My advice is reclaim your thrones and space
Apply your war paint
**** restraint
Do not let them encase you
In a glossy magazine
Do not let them erase your face
Climb up this staircase
Pick up your mace
Smash the glass ceiling

Do not accommodate for their feelings
Make them beg your forgiveness kneeling

Women should accommodate for their ego
Like a snake it wounds around your body
Tightening and restricting
Constricting your opinion
To give way for their dominion

**** them
**** all who stand in your way
Make them pay
For the way they made you purvey and obey
This is a new day
Today women should accommodate for the their own ******* selves
Not placed on bookshelves

I am told that my anatomy is the sheer academy of my lack of sensibility and that my sense of autonomy is just my way of rebelling against my own skin.

Because I was born in a body that is just a little too small to contain such an opinion, and so this must be just the remainder of some book I read, right?

I am told that at times my mouth traces outlines larger than my hands can, and all I know is that my fingers stretch to try and reach the cord that turns off the light on my porch so that I can find the streetlight shadow puppet.

Because I am at odds with the lightbulb delivery of my best friend’s idealism and my body’s realism and it’s all a sense of alchemism when I’m searching for altruism.

I’m told that I am too big for my body, or “for such a little girl, you’re very smart,”. I used to start in the plus-size section of stores, only to be escorted to diminutive floral prints and capri pants.

I am still mistaken for a lost child at the airport, I am still advised not to go out in certain areas after dark, I didn’t realize I was small until I wasn’t listened to.