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You give me butterflies
And this scares me
But I like it
Come be near me

Can I tell you
Whats within me
This confusion
It's amazing

I trust you
But I'm scared
Because I know
When there is no more
When you leave me
When I can't see you
Where will I be
                              Lost eternally

You are my best friend
You are my man
All I need is
For you to hold my hand
Even if it's only once
I need to feel your touch
'Cuz your mind is beautiful
Your voice is appealing
And here I stand
Waiting to take your hand

So your hands are big?
Ok, I feel safe
Just don't let me go
Because I'll never know
What to do with myself

And so if you go
You can blindfold me
Or just take away my sight
I know I will adjust
But only so much
I know I'll understand
The beauty around me
But I'll never be able to appreciate
Everything that surrounds me

But enough of you leaving me
The thought is too depressing
And let me tell you
I'm so grateful to meet you
That I think of you
Before I go to bed
That to the Lord
I humbly bow my head
That I thank Him
For putting you in my life
And I thank you
For giving me butterflies
The first time I skipped a meal, I spent the night with a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach.
The first time I cut myself, I threw up at the sight of my own blood.
The first time I made myself sick, I cried.

The first time is always the hardest, but it only gets easier after that.

Years down the road now,
I can see the beauty in what I've done.
The breath-taking wonder found in decay.

Tonight I sit on the pavement
outside my apartment.
My fingers curl around the
rusted chain-link fence.
Sharp edges of broken wire
left cuts not nearly deep enough
on my arms when I squeezed
through the hole next to me.

I don't live anymore than the metal at my back.
Just like the fence I am merely existing.

Months from now,
my kidneys will run
the risk of failing.

Already my teeth are
stained and eroded from
stomach acid.

My bones knock against
one another from shivering,
and the pavement underneatth
me chews at my tailbone.

When someone asks for a picture of me,
I give them the grainy photograph of the hole in the fence.
Just like it I am rusting. Breaking down piece by piece.

There is beauty in dying. In the natural course of slow decay.

When doctors ask me
why I did this to myself,
I will show them the scars
on my stomach.
I'll show them my
barren womb and
protruding rib bones.

I'll tell them that in trying to be perfect, I found what we're all really looking for.

I discovered that we're
born to die, and that
the beauty of life is
our slow descent into
the darkness of death.
Writing exercise #3 from my creative writing class.
Smoke a blunt, pack a bowl send me on my way.

Feeling better but feeling worse every single day.

Dont know what to do about this vicious circle im stuck in.

All I can do is give it to God and let the healing begin.

But I still miss it everyday and Im not sure why.

Why do I love it so much and always wanna get high.

No where else to turn so Im on my knees prayin.

Let God take it over cuz dood he aint playin.

I got the Jesus man holdin it down fightin temptation.

And I cant stop pushin now cuz Im building up Christs nation.

I know that Christ will use me for the greater good.

Just gotta get my story across and be understood.

Cuz I been thru the tradjedies and tried to escape it.

But I had to face reality and Im proud that I made it.

And I couldnt do it without Him yeah my savior till the end.

Only following Jesus not just following some trend.

And nobody can stop me even though satan will try.

But Ima prove him wrong its just a matter of time.

Cuz Ima find the best of me and use it to serve the Lord.

Even if its just my rhymes I wont be ignored.
1.

Like a white snowdrop in the spring
From child to girl I grew,
And thought no thought, and heard no word
That was not pure and true.

2.

And when I came to seventeen,
And life was fair and free,
A suitor, by my father's leave,
Was brought one day to me.

3.

“Make me the happiest man on earth,”
He whispered soft and low.
My mother told me it was right
I was too young to know.

4.

And then they twined my bridal wreath
And placed it on my brow.
It seems like fifty years ago —
And I am twenty now.

5.

My star, that barely rose, is set;
My day of hope is done —
My woman's life of love and joy —
Ere it has scarce begun.

6.

Hourly I die — I do not live —
Though still so young and strong.
No dumb brute from his brother brutes
Endures such wanton wrong.

7.

A smouldering shame consumes me now —
It poisons all my peace;
An inward torment of reproach
That never more will cease.

8.

O how my spirit shrinks and sinks
Ere yet the light is gone!
What creeping terrors chill my blood
As each black night draws on!

9.

I lay me down upon my bed,
A prisoner on the rack,
And suffer dumbly, as I must,
Till the kind day comes back.

10.

Listening from heavy hour to hour
To hear the church- clock toll —
A guiltless ******* in flesh,
A murderess in soul.

11.

Those church- bells chimed the marriage chimes
When he was wed to me,
And they must knell a funeral knell
Ere I again am free.

12.

I did not hate him then; in faith
I vowed the vow “I will;”
Were I his mate, and not his slave,
I could perform it still.

13.

But, crushed in these relentless bonds
I blindly helped to tie,
With one way only for escape,
I pray that he may die.

14.

O to possess myself once more,
Myself so stained and maimed!
O to make pure these shuddering limbs
That loveless lust has shamed!

15.

But beauty cannot be restored
Where such a blight has been,
And all the rivers in the world
Can never wash me clean.

16.

I go to church; I go to court;
No breath of scandal flaws
The lustre of my fair repute;
For I obey the laws.

17.

My ragged sister of the street,
Marked for the world's disgrace,
Scarce dares to lift her sinful eyes
To the great lady's face.

18.

She hides in shadows as I pass —
On me the sunbeams shine;
Yet, in the sight of God, her stain
May be less black than mine.

19.

Maybe she gave her all for love,
And did not count the cost;
If so, her crown of womanhood
Was not ignobly lost.

20.

Maybe she wears those wretched rags,
And starves from door to door,
To keep her body for her own
Since it may love no more.

21.

If so, in spite of church and law,
She is more pure than I;
The latchet of those broken shoes
I am not fit to tie.

22.

That hungry baby at her breast —
Sign of her fallen state —
Nature, who would but mock at mine,
Has made legitimate.

23.

Poor little “love- child” — spurned and scorned,
Whom church and law disown,
Thou hadst thy birthright when the seed
Of thy small life was sown.

24.

O Nature, give no child to me,
Whom Love must ne'er embrace!
Thou knowest I could not bear to look
On its reproachful face.
 Jan 2013 Sleepless K
KH
Words don't mean a thing when your body's my language,
and our words sound better when there pressed together
My heart can't keep up with my fingers. They're all over you.
What i'm feeling is your body, that emotion is true.
I can't take this any more. What have we got to loose?
Hold your tongue, baby, or i can hold it for you.
 Jan 2013 Sleepless K
thurrsday
i gave you a visit today
i just wanted to play
its to bad you know
ill chase you where ever you go
rolling down the hill of snow
around the poles
right into your holes
i know i shouldnt
but you make so i couldnt possibly say no
that lovely burn in my nose
seems to be the only time my mind grows
so i visit another friend
she makes my world colorful
and tells me im beautiful and wonderful
she can make flowers sing and trees smile
she burns the skies yellow and you can see for miles
then along comes molly
dancing crazy in her bare feet
as we talk i start to find the beat
and then im gone
trapped in the music
i get lost and think im gonna lose it
she breaks her hold and i feel like gold
were now back in our group
as we stumble like confused troops
back to where all of this started
then i realize how long its been since we last parted
my giant balloon head friend
you make the world flip upside down
and spin the wrong way
but your one of my favorites i must say
as i look across the room you start to run
did i do something or is this just for fun
im full of fear and wonder
its ok tho youll protect my soul
so by the end of the night
ill end up following you down this rabbit hole
 Jan 2013 Sleepless K
thurrsday
im the girl your not supposed to be friends with
the bad influence, the introducer, the girl not to be messed with
ill take you down all the wrong roads, and to all the places you dont wanna go
ill let you see all there is to me, the bad, good, and mysterious
but i cant really be serious?
i like many things, and have some bad habits
i fall into holes chasing those rabbits
but in the end its your choice to follow me
cause deep down everyone wants to know how life is
if your completely free
your parents hate me cause i showed you a new way
but all i wanted to do was play
i didnt make you follow, you did that one on your own
and now you feel all alone
sitting on the streets, figuring out your defeat
you wonder why i did this to you?
i made it look so fun, happy and free
they feel sorry for you, and could probably **** me
but noone stops to think who did this to me?
i wasnt born like this
i was torn and broke and molded to this
i started out like you too
in the end i just didnt wanna be alone like this
i didnt wanna be left or used or even kissed
for all who say ignorance is bliss
i think forgiveness can still fix this
A lonely stool
A lightless room
And a girl who sits
And waits.

The sticky floor,
Her ****** body.
As tears drip down
Her face.

When out of the darkness
Comes a boy
With fluffy dark
Black hair

The boy that she loves
Yet she won’t smile
She can only sit
And stare.

He smiles and kisses
The top of her head
It only makes her
Cry harder.

And as he leans back
And punches her face
She swears the room
Gets darker.

He kicks and she screams
He pulls out her hair
He slashes at her with
A knife.

And when he says sorry
'He hopes she forgives him'
She wishes he'd just take
Her life.

He says not to worry
In time she'll forget
But she knows that he'll be
There tomorrow.

The boy that she love
Is now her worse nightmare?
And fills her life
With sorrow.
it's not like one of those clean cuts, that leave behind nothing but a mere, white scar,
but rather that of a gouging wound; a piece of me,
no, no, an immense chunk of me, torn away.
twisted, strained, contorted, ripped,
until finally broken free
but wait, this isn't free
anything but free
like an eagle, destined to soar, held prisoner in a cage that's too small.
longing to be set free,
to fly
but simply
can't.
one is such an innocent number.
soon enough, one becomes two.
two slips into three,
three mysteriously becomes four.
soon enough, you've got an addiction on your hands.
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