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Sarah Helen Jun 2015
Its morning the sun is coming up tick-tock time for me to wake up.
Father time doesn’t wait for no one he’s always on the move.
Tick-tock every second, minute, and hour counts; time waits for no one to catch up.
So, much pressure to figure things out, I’d wish time wasn’t so precious.
Help me then Father Time to forget.
Forget the scars of my life because, with time my scars haunt me inside instead.
But, Father Time magic doesn't work like that.
All he can do is give you is time to heal your pain, and figure things out.
Now I have a chose what to do with my time that counts.
Sarah Helen Jun 2015
This is a story about a lovely young girl who's in the woods dancing with the snow flakes.
Her arms are up in the air moving along with breeze.
She’s bare foot in her favorite blue dress, but she not cold, she’s peaceful lite with her thoughts.
Suddenly a gust of wind changes the young girl's mood bring a frost to her breath that chokes her with fear.
  A ere black figure brings a darkest filling the woods, and it had its eyes on the young girl.
Tears run down her rosy cheeks, and she starts to run towards the trees that are as tall as the sky.
The black figure covers its face, and leads with its hands with sharp long disguising nails.
  She can't seem to out run the scary black figure that it eventually brings a sense of hopelessness to the young girl fueling the monster’s black figure even more.
Hopelessness won; as the black figure screams it pierces the young girl’s ears.
It lunges its sharp long disgusting nails towards the girl ripping through the young girl's favorite blue dress, and flesh with such hatred for it is jealous of the young girl's innocence .
The young girl is trying to cover her face screaming for her life, but no one can hear them.
It’s hopeless the young girl is laying in the woods alone with the black figure; blood is dripping down her chest turning this once white snow red.
  The black figure has done its job, it waits for the young girl's soul to slowly leave her body, and into the palms of the hands of the black figure.
As she lays there she takes her mind back to her dancing in the snow, and how peaceful she felt.
Blood fills her lungs she tries to cough it all out, as she takes in her last breathe.
The young girl body dies, but a patch of white flowers grow every year where the young girl body once laid.
Warning us to watch out for the black figured monster it may just rip your soul out.
Sarah Helen Jun 2015
I’m sleep walking through life.
Numb to my darkest thoughts haunting me in my dreams, revealing the demons that's entered in my life.
Does he know?
He is so perfect in my eyes, how can I ever let him in?
I wish I can share the thoughts that I trap in a glass bottle, and throw into the sea hoping my problems will be washed away.
Afraid that my thoughts are so toxic that I’ll poison him; tearing him away from me.
I realize that this is a battle I must fight on my own.
I can only hope he’ll wait for me to bloom into the rose that he ready see in me.
  Jun 2015 Sarah Helen
Bailey Lewis
Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on
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