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please God help me..
I don't know who I am anymore...
I've made so many horrible mistakes. I don't even want to hear of you anymore...
God I don't deserve your grace your mercy or your love... Not today.. Don't waste it on me... Not for me...
I'm so **** lost!!
Stuck in a deep hole... Taking my last breath.. Singing my last song.. The one that won't last.. The one that dies off..
PLEASE nobody help me.. I'm fine here in this place. Don't try to save me...
I just wish I was dead..
These stupid happy songs... Don't mean anything to me anymore!!
This place I'm in... these mistakes that someday, ready or not all have to face..
He hates me
She hates me
You hate me...
You got your wis...
..cause now,
I hate me to....
I wish I was someone else.
I wish I wasn't me.
I wish I could be little misses perfect...
The one you've always wanted me to be...
That one I can't ever BE for you!!
The one I always try to be but fail at every try..
I hate this this
And I hate me...
The places I used to go to, to be free... I can't go to now cause they all hate me..
I've burnt every part of me
Realizing that every person I've ever wanted to be, isn't me!
That's it's just me.
And I can't take that.
Please I'm okay here...
Don't try t help me
Don't try to save me.
I'll find my way some day..
 May 2013 Skye Applebome
DG
living in the light
where every mistake is public

I just want to go back in the shadows

let me hide in the woods
where no one can see me

let the dark clouds come
and block out the sun

spare me all the humiliation
and let me go back to hiding
this poem is not directed at anyone specifically. ask me about it :P
 May 2013 Skye Applebome
Whitney
No one has ever broken my heart.
Most would say that’s a gift,
but I am not sure.
Maybe it is not that my heart has been broken
but I’ve never let myself be close enough to anyone
for it to be broken.
At night before I sleep
I think of what would happen if I were to be
*****.
If my parents were to
die
suddenly. If
I were to die.
What would happen?
Would I be able to take care of myself,
or would I wither away? Who would I become?
Would my friends care? Which ones?
Maybe I feel unloved, but I don’t.
I have so much love in my life that I can’t give.
I receive but cannot replicate.
I feel it but can not find the place in my heart to give it.

Feeling alone in a crowded room.

That’s what it feels like but
in my own mind.
These thoughts that drain me while I sleep
they’re the awkward goth that sits in the corner at prom,
trying so desperately to fit in but refusing to
sell themselves
to the pink dress.
The rest of the thoughts wonder why they’re there.

I have these thoughts not because I’m depressed or
lonely.
I think I think these things because I’ve convinced myself
I want them.
Disgusting isn’t it? To want the amount of suffering I do.
I hope somewhere it’s not the suffering I want but the
emotion.
The state of being overpowered by emotion to the point where
you can’t function.
Where every choice is the product of an emotional
whiplash.

I see these people who suffer in pain. But I’m strange
because I do not see it as horrible I see it as
beautiful.
Their suffering is beautiful because it is a level of intencity
I cannot feel.
A level of emotion that I hunger for but can not reach.
I don’t know why I want this.
Maybe I feel numb, but I don’t really know.
Maybe I speak words to fill the air. Fill the time.
All those words that are safe, they’ve become
boring.
I want something more to say, more to feel than just the daily shpeal,
even if it means pain.

I do not think I am depressed.
I do not know what I am.
I’ve never met anyone like me before.
Maybe I am
alone.
Maybe everyone feels like me but they keep quiet for fear if they speak
they’ll be condemmed to live their life in a
white jacket.

The world is ******* up.
I am the girl who wears pastels then
talks back to the teachers.
Gets straight As but hangs out with the kids who
smoke *** at lunch.
Who is that that you know?
No one.
I want to help those who I don’t think need help,
because society says there is something
wrong
with them. But what if they’re the one who are sane
and we are the insane?
Maybe we’ve been manipulated to think we are in control but
we’re not.
They are.
The ones on the streets and in the straight jackets.

Insanity is the highest level of intelligence.
Computer
 May 2013 Skye Applebome
Sir B
Abyss
 May 2013 Skye Applebome
Sir B
When I join something
Or get motivated to do something
You are there

To tell me that I am bad at this
Bad at that

You don't control me, SIR.
No one ever does,
No one ever did.....

Not until I started falling..
Falling into an infinite abyss
Of darkness and loneliness

It was horrible
It still is.
Because i am still falling
and failing to grab to anything.
I keep falling..
Having thoughts to end it for myself
But can I do it??
Whilst in an abyss??
*Can I?
why is it
that when i say
i want to die
you tell me
all these things
about how
it would just
break your heart
but i can never
seem to believe you?
In a half empty house, lying on a half empty bed,
I find that the half smoked cigarette, jostles for half an inch,
with half a smile that has crept onto my lips,
when with half the night gone, I realize that
more than half of my thoughts are about you.
Adam kicked the soccer ball to the front of the house.  Sam watched him chase after it, while she sipped her sweet tea.  The sound of his feet stopped and was replaced with car tires driving through the gravel road.  She stood up and walked down the steps to see who had come.  Adam cut her off before she made it around the corner of the house.
Panting and out of breath, he gasped, “Mommy…Daddy’s home.”
Sam stared at Adam, letting those two words sink in.  Adam turned around and started running back.  She stood there for a moment and then took after her son.  Thoughts were flooding her mind.  When she hugged him one last time before he left, him walking towards the plane, the letters coming home every week, his arms wrapped around her, and the sounds of him and Adam playing football in the afternoon.
Her pace slowed when she arrived to the front of the house.  Cameron’s grey truck turned off followed by another black car tuning its engine off.  Cameron hopped out of the truck and looked over at her with sorrowed filled eyes.  Adam ran up and gave him hug, but Cameron’s eyes never left hers.
A Marines officer walked up to Sam with letters in his hands.  Her heart started beating faster and could feel a hole beginning to form in her stomach.  Please…Please, don’t tell me he’s gone.  Please be a mistake, she closed her eyes and thought.
Ma’am, are you Sam Chesterfield?” the officer asked.
She opened her eyes and forced a whisper, “Yes.”
“Mrs. Chesterfield, I am sorry to inform you that your husband has died in combat.  He gave me this letter to give to you.  Here is another letter from the Department of
Defense about the funeral if you have any questions.  You have my deepest condolences, Daniel was an honorable man,” he placed his hand on her shoulder and walked away.
As he climbed into his car, Sam broke down.  She feel to her knees, letting her vision get blurry.  Cameron ran over and wrapped his arms around her, trying to calm her down.  Adam walked over and took his mother’s hand.
“Mommy…is Daddy coming home?”
Sam looked up at him.  She saw so much of Daniel in him.  Before she could answer, Cameron responded, “Your dad…well he went somewhere where he can get better.”
Adam just nodded.  “Sweetie, why don’t you and Cameron go inside.  I need to take care of some things,” she sputtered out.
As they went inside, she stared at the white envelope with her name scribbled on the front of it.  She slowly opened it and began to read,
My Dearest Samantha,
If you are reading this, you already know that I am not coming home.  I could not know or describe the pain that you are going through right.  When Adam has asked what has become of me, tell him the truth.  Let him know that his father died a hero and that I loved him very much.  I already asked Cameron to look after you and Adam, and he has promised.
Sam, please do not grieve my death for the rest of your life.  Smile and remember the good times.  Our wedding day, the first day we met, how we fell in love.  Remember all of that; watch the tapes to see my face again.  I will always love you and be with you, no matter what.  I know that it may be hard at first on your own, but you are a strong woman and can do it.  You and Adam are my life’s love and happiness.  I will always be with you two in heart.
There is another letter in here for Adam to read.  I want you to give it to him when you think he is ready to read it.
I love you with all of my heart.
Love,
Daniel
 May 2013 Skye Applebome
Marian
"My heart is for everyone, because I love everybody."

*~Marian~
'Why keep a cow when I can buy,'
Said he, 'the milk I need,'
I wanted to spit in his eye
Of selfishness and greed;
But did not, for the reason he
Was stronger than I be.

I told him: ''Tis our human fate,
For better or for worse,
That man and maid should love and mate,
And little children nurse.
Of course, if you are less than man
You can't do what we can.

'So many loving maids would wed,
And wondrous mothers be.'
'I'll buy the love I want,' he said,
'No squally brats for me.'
. . . I hope the devil stoketh well
For him a special hell.
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