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  Jan 2015 Robin Marie
Charlotte Jane
We live in a society full of insecurity
Red lips
Dark eyes
Fake tan.
Forced smiles
Closed eyes
Clenched fists,
Show no weakness
Show no mercy
Small hands on pale stomachs
Eyes constantly searching for ways to rid that extra pound
That extra curve
**** in
Deep breath
Back straight
Every calorie counts.
Is this really the world that we live in?
Is this the life that we wish to lead?
Our lives are no longer determined by the way that we think
They are not dedicated to achieving our dreams
To pursuing our goals
No
The way that we live is based upon the way that we look
And thus, the way that we are treated
We are always going to compare ourselves to another
That is a given
If we don't look good then we aren't happy
Right?
But for others to determine the fates of ourselves depending strictly upon a template of "perfection"?
Perfection is a disease
The very aspect of it plagues your mind
Inhabits your soul
And brings upon an individual an idea of something to achieve
That is nearly impossible to achieve
It is a roller coaster that only goes down
A concoction that only leads to inevitable heartache and pain
A poison that has no known cure
And it hurts
Perfection hurts.
Before you check your phone
Before you wash your face
Before you eat your breakfast
Before you resume your sleep

Draw open the curtains
Embrace each light ray and
Run your fingers through the sea
Leaking through your windows

Stretch open your arms
Feel each light ray and
Watch it glow as it hits you
Drenching you with white

Breathe in, breathe out well--
Hoping to inhale one light ray and
Engulf your blood with it
Running through your veins.

When that is done, you are complete.
You are brand new, fearless, impervious.

For twenty-four hours, when you are cut
You will not bleed--

You will shine.
Robin Marie Dec 2014
"Hey, how are you?"
you said, sitting at the table,
with your arms around her.
  Dec 2014 Robin Marie
Graced Lightning
The sermon at church this morning was called "I am Jesus, the Good Shepherd" and it got me thinking. In this world of 7 billion people and drugs and alcohol and guns, how am I supposed to find God?
That was a rhetorical question, by the way.
Because I think I've already found him.
With God, you're supposed to feel safe. And pure. And loved. You're supposed to find true happiness and not go astray. You're supposed to be a good little sheep and stay with the flock, where your shepherd is. Your shepherd will feed you and keep you warm and safe.
I feel safe in your arms. Even though I'm far from innocent, I feel pure. I feel loved. I'm happy with you. I haven't gone astray, I've stayed with you. You hold my hand through the valleys of darkness that I must walk through. You will feed me and keep me warm and safe on nights where I just can't sleep and the cold invades my bones and the hollow space between my ribs where my heart should be beating. You'd die for me.
That's how I know that I've found God in you. You're not perfect. You're deeply flawed and above it all, you're still just a teenage boy. But to be completely honest, I think God sent you here just for me. We're meant to love each other, among all the wars and drugs and guns and out of all the 7 billion people out there, we were meant to find each other.
I'm so glad we did.
Robin Marie Dec 2014
10w
And that day I learned, love is not always kind.
  Dec 2014 Robin Marie
petrichories
why, when asked who the most important person in their life is, do people say their mumdadsisterbrotherhusbandwifesiblingcatfriend? Why do they answer that it is anyone except themselves? because let me tell you one thing;
it's you. it always will be.
it's your heart that keeps the blood pulsing through your blue-river veins. your lungs keep you breathing, no matter how painful each breath is. your legs move you from place to place, although, really, you never even want to be there in the first place. your arms have held loved ones while they have wept and your fingertips have produced transfixing music that has caused them to weep. your liver has kept you alive on the nights where you tried very hard not to be and your stomach has demanded that you really must eat even when you try to tell it, and yourself, otherwise. your lips have brought fireworks to those of others and your eyes have been a glowing fire through the deepest of nights and darkest of times (even if you think they're a terrible, in-between sort of colour)
it's you. it always will be
I wrote this at 1am on Christmas Day :I
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