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I grew up in the putrid decay of trauma
Trying to reconstruct the systems drama
Playing a part of victimized slaughter.
Of every word of hope I had, every laugh
Every stab, every push in the back every part of love I lack
Every piece of hate I contract. Man I'm losing track.
Keeping every Jenga piece in the stack.
And I hate the negativity I attract.
Thats why I’m trying something new.
Turning my progression into something true. Every copy, Every piece, Everything I do
Constructed into a new brand of truth
And as time is passing. Voices are still asking. Why is this white kid up here rapping.
And I ‘ll tell you why this is my passion. I hate the thought of our trauma crashing.
Making the better of us while the devil is laughing. And in a corrupt world where body’s are stacking and hurt is open traffic. And the only frequency we receive is static.  And the fact that my mom was an attic only adds comfort to my panic. This system is nerving ending. And the shock is sending a mixed wave of pending impulses. And when the action is constructed, Their only thoughts are the past your stuffed with. Gagged and fed in. The hate of what you did that you’re continuously stuck with. And no matter your current sins. You are still given the opportunity to be forgiven.
Points are misconstrued. Any question, Every answer. Anything you choose.
Lets pick one to re-construe.
Our systems are filled with hate. Abuse to recreate. Siblings are disconnected.
And our worlds are fed with the continuous negativity within our media that our minds our sent with.
Peace within the races is drifted apart. And theres no light in the dark. Only bodies of morals that were taken from the start. Blood fashioned into a negative art. There’s racial divide right where the lines are. And the distance of peace is mile like far. Crimes committed every hour by the powered while someone innocent is arrested every hour. And when the diverted posture of hate is playing a part to keep our mouths sour. Eyes are closed. Centuries of neglect rose. And hatred is like fire ready to emerge from the stove. And our ideas of morals are completely distorted. Warped and contorted. Flooded with the pattern of systematic blood. Ideas of change are purposely adverted. Not enough pineal glands Removed  from the skin when the knife is inserted. The system designed to keep us devoured. Within the difference of civil slavery and power. You want something to pray about. What about the neglect of the deaths of the ones who are left. And yet we are still having *** with the devil, who is the one to meddle with our lively hood.  And yet those things aren’t understood. The first thing to truth being unearthed is.  
The possibility of the word ‘could’. And then change can finally give birth.
JoJo Feb 6
She was a beautiful disaster
waiting for you to rebuild her.
Nathan Chittum Oct 2018
My heart hurts... and I feel burned... I feel USED! AND ABUSED! AND TORN!

I'm not mad at you but at me. I just.... want.... to flee....

**** you don't like rhymes, I'll stop. Why could not I have been ready for you when you were ready for me... I'm sorry.

I cried when I saw your book of scraps and pictures today. Never have I ever, felt, so, loved. I guess I thought it was a game. Time to stand up cause I lost, never have I ever.

Because you weren't a game but a person, that's been used and abused yet somehow stayed true despite the blue....**** there I got again. I do it cause it's easy. Unlike you, I just...
wish we could anew.
I'm not sorry I still love you
I'm not sorry I still love her and I'm not sorry it still hurts this bad. The worse thing is I don't know if that was the best love I've ever had or the best love I will ever have. The only thing I'll actually be sorry for is if she she's this and is conflicted after I promised to be easy. I just wish I could scream this for the gravity in which it's in me.
Damaris ZA Mar 2018
a stone
             that falls
                              down a
a­ mind
                that escapes
but a
           heart that
                              bleeds out
                                                      ­               breaks.
Kelsey Chupp Dec 2017
i was in love with all the broken things
and the things others left behind
like guitars with missing strings
old record players that skipped a few beats
dusty books that fell apart
and people with already broken hearts
Love lasts Oct 2017
They say learn to let go
Let go with love and kindess
But wouldn't that entrap you with blindness
Others say hate to let go
But wouldn't that hurt you more
Won't that break you to the core

For me love the memories
But never hate consume you
For this is all treasuries
Treasuries to store in your heart
For this is loves art
The beauty of love

Always love what you had
Always love the little things
For those little moments and memories
These are what makes love special
This is the beauty of love
I feel lonely every time I think of you;
My first love
I thought I found the perfect match for me;
The match for my heart
But you slipped away between my fingers
Now you belonged to me no more;
The saddest sad

I must fight each day and night to live and love again;
Like I used to be
I'm counting on time to pass quickly but time is infinity;
Eternity is a long time
What is wrong with me?
Do others feel the same way or is it only me, myself and I?
So, so crazy for you

I would wait every morning and evening;
Even for eternity
Until you come back
Whether in this life or the next
I want to be with you forever and a day;
My first love.
When my best friend lost his first love, he never let go of her. Though he managed to move on, after a long time, he still feels her in his heart and loneliness blooms too much when he thinks of her. I hope that one day they both could unite.
Marlo Cabrera May 2016
Eto ako ngayon,
nakahiga kama ko
isipan ay walang laman kun’di ikaw.
nababaliw sa bawat senaryo
na kasama ka.
Ilang beses ko na naisip
at na plano ang gagawin
sa oras na dumating ang
panahon na kailangan gumawa ng desisyon
kung pagpapatuloy ba natin
ang ating pagsasama.
at ilang beses ko na ding
nasagot ang sarili na

Kase wala lang naman akong
hihilingin kung’di ikaw
na nag papatibok ng puso ko.

Ang taong pumupulot sa mga basag kong piraso,
at binubuo ako, gamit ang ginto.
Kase ang mga hapon ay may sining
na kapag ang isang bagay ay nabasag
ang ginagawa nila dito ay
ginagamit ang ginto bilang pang digit.
Para sa kanila,
ang bagay na iyon ay mas maganda at kabighabighani
kesa nung eto ay hindi pa nababasag.

Ikaw ang ginto
na bumubuo
sa mga basag kong piraso.


Mahal kita.
Kintsugi = The Japanese art of repairing with gold.
Marium Iqbal Jul 2015
"I fell for a nobody loves me kind of guy. Maybe it's because I'm a nobody loves me kind of girl."
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