개자닌 Dec 2016
Everyone has an inner child, do they?
but why do they act like they don't?
negative thoughts are all they can think of
and hides the creative in their unknown.

We were once a child.
Each of us has a story.
yet why do you feel so incomplete and lonely-
when you know more than better?

Satisfied, are you not?
The dreams that were either reached or shattered
You were the protagonist in your story.
How did you end up being like that?
uhmm so yeah.. I forgot TT
erased our block box
they pry hard

he has an crowbar
it is
stiff
in
his
hand
he is
an
mechanical pen


faces ran across mine eyes
then parrrots could
never catch me
green wings
of
envy

don't cry mister
here take my
ice cream
coned
don't
poke
your
eyes
out
ok
yous
?


















­



...
..
.
i
am
but
...
..
.
Skylar 4d
you touch me
like a child
eyes bright
Skylar 4d
i can't help but be disgusted
the way you used to place your hands on my body
i was so young
so innocent
doing things little girls shouldn't
seeing things little girls shouldn't
and it stays with me
even now
A Mother is the one who,
controls the child not by dramas or tears,
but by unconditional love,
because she knows that only through love,
can her child listen to her.

A Mother is the one who is not afraid,
to see her child in pain,
because she knows that even the littlest of growth,
can’t be achieved with pain.

A Mother is the one who is not afraid,
to fulfil her right desires,
because she knows that only when she lives to the fullest,
can her child learn to live her life,
to the fullest.

A Mother is the one who,
doesn’t stop her child from making friends,
because she knows that good relationships,
will teach her child responsibility.

A Mother is the one who,
doesn’t complain or blame about her miseries all the time,
but encourages her child to take responsibility of actions,
because she knows that blaming doesn’t cure miseries,
understanding does.

A Mother is the one who,
is not afraid to give the space that her child needs,
because she knows that,
interfering too much in a relationship only weakens it.

A Mother is the one who,
doesn’t try to lock her child in the limited box of her arms,
but is courageous enough to let her go,
because she understands that one half of loving is letting go.

A Mother is the one who,
doesn’t compare her child with herself or anyone else,
because she knows that her child too,
has something unique and so wonderful.

A mother is the one who,
doesn’t criticize her child at every pin falls,
at the same time, she is not afraid,
to criticize the child when the time is right.

A Mother is the one who,
teaches her child to be fearlessly independent,
because she knows that dependency,
is a pain bigger than all the pains,
it’s a fear bigger than all the fears.
Gail 6d
Pretty child, with a head full of
long brown hair and day dreams.
Tomorrow was bright. You were going
to fall in love and it was going to be magic.
You were going to get your heart broken
and it was going to be the worst thing that ever happened.
Pretty child, with a head full of day dreams and a body full of bullets.
Tomorrow never came.
Love never came, and that’s a goddamn shame, because it was going to be magic.
Pretty child, yesterday you died and it was the worst thing that ever happened.
Today we cried, and tomorrow we won’t remember.
The black clouds above blot out the light
The air becomes heavy and it fills me with fright
Shut tight my eyes and cover my ears
Hide under covers fighting my fears
Off in the distance is the sounding of Thunder
And then in one moment the sky split asunder
Dancing lightning setting fire to the sky
And from my mouth escapes a small cry
I am so small and so weak a helpless little child
Hold me close to you while the night rages wild
Oculi 7d
Yesterday, there was a cloud and the cloud was turning
Today there were more, and the ounce kept burning
Some bar in Hamburg and dreams of punching Atatürk
The sister wasn't sexy, no paper, seven X's
It wasn't a good time, it was a shoddy paper bar
The redneck motherfucker was the one who turned a star
But oh no
An axolotl with the body of a flying serpent
This is urgent, a full body of the color verdant
Learning the choreography of a murderer of burdens
The static and manic idiosyncracy of skin men
The bodies of three legends accounted to ten
But there was no reception or action back then
But who knows?
The calling of a tender serving drinks to no end
Many friends to attend to and mend the hearts
There were children who drank like worrywarts
And the shortened query of lines was eerie
Peering, they're steering like he was hearing
Some sudden tale of questionable origins in there

The fact that it's all the same shit with no name
Makes it the same old hat, the same old game
A dream of millenia ago when there was no fame
The only person booing was some swollen lame

But it's life and life is strange
How do you change the way you change the way you feel
Rotted brains that don't feel no feel, they steal
But time heals, so time equals no wounds and that's why
Why they wish to live forever on a never-ending bender
But then comes Life-ender, the scythe, ember, mender
And it's all over, no one's sober on this Rolls Royce
Range Rover, said Herbert Hoover the awful goober
And now it's all nude and there stood the stooge
A fool made of reed and a tool made of keys
But what for were keys when there's no doors in need
No trusty steed to ask for the weed or mead
Who knew that life would be so hard indeed
It's that two story fall that doesn't kill
It made them fall ill and lie still for a fill
Of this endless bucket made of Kengo's will
There was a silhuetto of a rusted stilleto
It was well kept like Velcro in a safe or the pocket
Of the dog from Kesto, that asshole, he pictured it
Some poor animal and made it sit on the cover forever
That made it sever from reality and come back never
But that's a tale for another lever to pull
Or the fool with another drink in their hands
And a bit of food, delightfully canned or a machine
That was manned by a man who was made of sand
All there's left is a question I've always had
What if I was the cloud, and the cloud was dead?
I never had a room.
Well, I had a room
But, I was allergic to dust.
I am allergic to dust.
So, early on
She took all the books
Off the cold off-white metal shelves
That clanked and groaned
Under their weight
Put the humidifier in
And let the velvety steam
Perspire on my peach painted walls.
I think they were peach.
Maybe another hue of pink.
Which I grew to hate
Because she slept in blue.
A fragment of my childhood.
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