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 Jan 2014 Sydney Brown
andrew
1/8/14**
my hands will shake as i write this
mostly because of the nicotine
but also because
they miss yours

my head will spin as i write this
mostly because of the nicotine
but also because
i feel alone

lighting a cigarette now has a different meaning
am i smoking to ease my pain?
am i smoking to ease the loneliness?
not anymore

cigarettes have become nicotine packed promises
im promised to miss you even more
im promised to feel it in my head
in my hands
in my legs
in my chest

the smoke that escapes my lips is no longer my troubles leaving me
im promised to feel worse after this
the smoke is like a signature

lighting it is almost me writing out a contract
the cigarette is a promise
i give consent to feeling worse
the smoke signs it for me
because my hands are trembling
 Dec 2013 Sydney Brown
andrew
Vodka
 Dec 2013 Sydney Brown
andrew
im not drunk enough to forget what its like
to be close to you
to feel you grip my hand tighter

im not sober enough to remember what its like
to be alone in my bed
to feel an empty space next to me

i dont know if im drinking to forget
or if im drowning sadness absent mindedly
but what i do know is

liquid love is my only escape
 Dec 2013 Sydney Brown
Morgan
Vulnerable enough to love everyone
but never naive enough to
expect anyone to love me
Because
I sat on her front porch
and rubbed her back
for three hours,
drove home in the rain
when the morning came
Never heard from her again
A poem about poetry seems obscure
But there are worse things you could endure.
Like having a disease you cannot cure,
Or water that isn’t pure.
Or traffic at Bay and Bloor.
I just want to reassure,
That there is worse you could endure.
just hold your breath a little bit longer
when i clear this pollution
i promise we'll be stronger

your mind may wander but don't look away
i will find a solution
then i am here to stay

not another moment can i stand to be split
can't we be amiable?
no, i feel your hostile intent

your constant screaming makes my head ache
i would **** you now
but that's one thing i can't take

maybe an identity is out of my reach
you've stolen so much from me
attached to my soul like a leech

i brush my teeth, i'm ready for bed
hopefully tonight in my dreams
you'll stay out of my head...
This a girl.

A broken, battered girl.
Held together by threads and glue, with wounds gauged into her heart.

This girl wakes up and sees a monster in the mirror,
with a grotesque face and heart as black as tar. Her eyes magnify every imperfection,
making them stand out like a single red rose among a dozen white ones. Still she puts on the smile that she is expected to wear. Fake it until you make it right? Stabbed in the back by her best friend.
The one person she thought would never give her up. The one she trusted and loved more than anyone. That’s what started it all.
A streak of deep set self-hatred. A girl who wishes that her weight was as low as her self-esteem. So down your drink broken girl, drown your sorrows with ***** and jack.
This is a girl.
With the word “Useless” carved into her arm.
Because that’s how she feels.
Useless. Ugly. Fat.
Because that was what she was told that was what she was. With every text that was sent to her she lost a little bit of her heart until all that was left was the space where it was supposed to beat.
Thump. Thump.
So she built walls around herself. Unbreakable walls filled with every word they ever called her.
She built them high and thick and made them of steel so no one could climb into her mind and see.
See what pain she was in.
See how she lived life behind a mask of fake laughs and smiles.  
So slice a little deeper broken girl, bleed the pain away because all those scars tell a story.

This is a girl.
Whose only escape is music.
The words engulf her.
Make her feel perfect even if just for about three minutes. Hitting her hard with a tsunami of emotions. Each word she clings to with all her strength so that maybe, one day they will be her reality.  A girl who loses herself in the crowd. The only time anything feels alright, when she doesn't have to hide or wish she was someone else. She sits alone and just listens. Listens to the ups and downs and analyzes the lyrics as they wrap around her and keep her warm. The only thing that can make it over her walls. So turn it up broken girl, and leave the pain behind.
This is a girl.
A girl who walks alone.
Because who would want to walk with a monster?
A girl who hates everything.
Especially herself.
Because that was what she was taught to do. Tongues as sharp as the razor she uses, eat at her brain. Like a flesh eating disease. Telling her how imperfect she is. And she listens. She soaks up the words and feels all of their fury. And what’s left becomes the salt in her tears. So walk on, broken girl, and don't you dare look back.
This a girl.
A girl who cries herself to sleep almost every night.
With a pillow covered in black stains from her eye make-up, as dark as the thoughts that drift through her head. Who is told not to end it because “It gets better.” That’s what they say anyway. The same people who, just a year earlier, caused her pain, who still cause her pain.
Their words haunt her.
They invade her dreams and turn them into nightmares that cut like a blade into her soul and into her heart. So take another pill and fall asleep, broken girl.
Leave this world behind, broken girl
Never wake up, Broken girl.
Because when you wake up your nightmares become
reality.
 Nov 2013 Sydney Brown
Kaylyn
I
           can’t
                 help  
              but  
                   sip this
                  tea
           and
      stir
     through          
   the                    
    memories    
                       and      
                       blow
        softly
at        
the            
steam          
that        
    purposely
           ignores
                       me
             as it
   floats    
up        
into          
infinity.
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