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I love autumn.
Why?
*Because it shows that dying can be beautiful.
I'm not the type of girl who chooses spring for flowers
I trusted you,
more than enough.
I had closure,
just not enough.
I was woman,
more than enough.
You had me,
just not enough.
You taught me,
more than enough.
I loved me,
just not enough.
I loved you,
more than enough.
You loved me,
just not enough.
Little Red Riding Hood walked through the woods
Singing and swinging her bag of baked goods
When out of the brush leapt a wolf with a smile
And some florist’s advice for the innocent child.
So off went the girl, picking bunches of daisies
While Wolf raced ahead with a step none too lazy.

Then at Grandmother’s door he knocked and said
“Let me in dear Grandmother, it’s your little Red."
So with grandmother’s blessing he let himself in
And ate up the oldest of little Red’s kin.  
Then Little Red Riding Hood came through the door
With nary a clue of what was in store.
After noting her “grandmother’s” ears, nose, and teeth
Into Wolf’s gullet she went with a shriek.

As the transvestite wolf began snoring like thunder,
Along came a huntsman, who cut his belly asunder.
Out came Red Riding Hood, Grandmother too
While Wolf, so oblivious, kept sleeping right through.
With a few heavy stones, a needle and thread
Wolf, far too full, finally woke then dropped dead.  

After a party of baked goods and wine,
The huntsman gave Red a great wolf pelt so fine.  
“Thank you, dear huntsman,” said our little Red,  
“But I’d rather skin wolves on my lonesome instead.  
I know things now, of these beasts and their wiles
I’ll give them a lesson, with blood and with style.
Teach me to stalk, to chase and to shoot
The best huntress I’ll be - and the cutest, to boot."

The huntsman, he roared with his big booming laughter.
In a voice that rose straight up to the rafters:
“Why little girl, have you a taste for the hunt?
You’re better off sewing, though I hate to be blunt.”
But little Red pouted, and threatened to cry
So the huntsman gave in, with a shrug and a sigh.

The huntsman- he was a formidable teacher.
Now Red lives in fear of no living creature.
Today, when Red Riding Hood walks through the woods
She carries bags of new, furry goods.  
And when out of the brush leaps a wolf with a smile,
She smiles right back: “You’ve picked the wrong child."
My first serious attempt at rhyme and meter.  Occasionally switches between dactylic and anapestic, which could use some fixing up.
If missing you was like breathing

Does that mean I'm dead?
i failed once again
my impulses take control
i find no reason to fight it
i fell like ive lost it all

the demons
come creeping back in
they help me pick up the razor
and put it against my skin

one little line
soon becomes more
its not long before
the drips hit the floor

im falling down
back into old habits
its a neverending fall
into neverending pits

it's time for me to go now
the gashes need to heal
ive been torn and torn myself up
none of this seems real
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