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Robert Stevenson Oct 2015
The ocean breeze
Goes through my hair
I get a call from my family
Its a scare
I head to the hospital
My father is dead
He says his last words
On his death bed
A story from my life.
Pie
Robert Stevenson Oct 2015
Pie
I eat pie when is the sun high,
I like to buy pie,
If I don't eat pie I cry,
When I can't get pie I sigh,
Without pie I would die,
Actually I would survive,
I would just eat Thai.
Pie saved me from a hurricane.
Robert Stevenson Oct 2015
Doot doot
I hear the trumpets of the deceased
The rotting calcium
The bones
An army of many arise
Doot doot...Doot doot
Their weapons edgy,
and captions random
Doot doot
May the great raid begin
Spooky memes spammed in the thousands
An extreme dose of spooky chemo
Doot doot.
Like the Skeletal Isis page on Facebook. :)
Robert Stevenson Nov 2015
My thoughts are twisted like a vine
Which cover me in fear and pain
I come home in a wild rage
And beat my lover once again

Waves of relief go up my spine
Yet crash at the guilt
My thoughts are twisted like a vine
Which lay on the foundations I built

After the screams quiet down
And the storm begins clearing
We feel the emotions built by frowns
And we are both left fearing
Domestic Violence as seen from the abuser's perspective.
Robert Stevenson Nov 2015
My father never fails to hit my face; I can’t help but to just stay
His hand is strong but my face will survive
That pain is one of a kind
My father never fails to hit my face; I can’t help but to just stay
My mother has given up on him
My brother has but a look of grim
My father never fails to hit my face; I can’t help but to just stay
I rest my soul, with tears in my eye
Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to die
Robert Stevenson Nov 2015
I zip on my smile,
And leave my house covered in fear,
into to the treachery, whom I call Kyle,
It begins joyful,
yet soon falls to doom,
He bursts into flames,
And there I lay in my tomb
After the drama wraps itself up,
I rise from death and smile falls loose
I leave the hell where my screams have been silenced,
And hope that no one else will have to suffer this violence.
Story from a darker time of my life.
Robert Stevenson Nov 2015
O’ Brother,
How important you are,
Don’t listen to mother,
With your joyful smile, as bright as a star,
Your room is dying, the colour changing to black,
I can tell you are not satisfied with the things of this world no more,
But you are Hercules, and these trials are your labours,
Let them make you stronger, and your power shall not lack
Being sorrowful is not your job, not even a chore,
**** those horrible thoughts with your wise sabres.

— The End —