The boy at the back of the car, with red headphones on, he sat on the ocean and he couldn't see past the pain that overwhelmed him.

The boy at the back of the car, his back aches, the tears were like sleeping pills
and nearly brought him to sleep.

The boy at the back of the car, he took pictures, he couldn't find a way to stay happy at one point in time.

The boy at the back of the car, he wanted the knives and pans, but he knew better then to intercede with God's plan.

The boy at the back of the car,
he fought the fight and he is preparing to take flight.
His friend has problems with shadows and thoughts that seemed to trap her in a seemingly never-ending maze of
trouble.

The boy at the back of the car has some issues, but...
The boy at the back of the car,
....is happier now. :)

I honestly think I would be a lot happier without my family.
I constantly get put down when I am with them. I am constantly building my wall when I am with them and I make sure that my mask would never come off. I sometimes get verbally abused by my mother.  I constantly get verbally abused and physically abused by my brother. My grandfather constantly expects me to do more than I can emotionally do. My grandmother constantly puts me down. The only person who doesn't ever bring me down is my aunt. My family is toxic to me and I am waiting for them to realize that.

AS THE BOMBS FELL A CHILD IS BORN.
A TRUE STORY
BY JUDE KYRIE

The night I was born the air was filled with the acrid odors of cordite and fire. Even the charred blossoms of the out of place cherry tree in the dark inner city gadens lost their sweet fragrance,
It was 1942 the war raged on like the four horsemen wanted it too.
Bombers of the Luftwaffe decided to obliterate our home at that moment.
Manchester was on fire and my first breaths were made of its deadly acrid smoke.
Inside the small row house beneath its humble living quarters we were sheltered under the cellar stairs.
My heavily pregnant mother and three older sisters clung to each other tightly as the roar of hate and violence crescendoed above the small house.
Somehow even in the darkened days of hopeless war I had been conceived in defiance of all the  hate a small flickering candle of love burning brightly in the darkness.
Missing from the house were my six older brothers who were away fighting in distant lands in the royal marines.
Also missing , my father who had served his country in the first world war. Now he walked in the darkened blackout of a Manchester on fire.
His job to watch for injured people he was  now too old to serve in any other way.
The bomb whistled as It fell from the sky its whining harbinger of death and destruction a precursor to its death knell of explosion a few moments later.
A cat oblivious to war and destruction watched the scene from beneath a stoop. The fires from the detonated TNT reflected in its wide green eyes.
The sound of our best friend the very air that we breathe to live being compressed into a weapon that would try to destroy us.
the blast wall of compression hit the structure of our house causing the supporting walls to fall inward and slowly to bury us alive in our cellar refuge,

My father at that very moment stood in front of the old catholic church of which he was a member with nine children as proof and soon to be ten.
The nave was on fire even gods house was not spared this night.

Father O'Brien appeared at the door of his beloved church in his arms in a long white smock was his altar boy he did not move nor would he ever again.
Tears flowed down the face of the old Irish priest. God has forsaken us Frank he cried to my father.

And together they walked in the mayhem of war.
As they reached our street my father saw his house destroyed and
His heart sank the priest last lament ringing in his ears.
A crowd of neighbours were pulling at the rubble. Mixed with plaster bricks a broken dish, a picture, a *** now so dented almost unrecognizable.
For hours they pulled and worked to reach the cellar.then finally they got there.
Under the cellar steps inside the gloom of blackened night we were all there covered in dirt and grime. Yet alive in defiance of the grim reaper increased by one more,
my mother held me to her breast to nurture her new child her seventh son.

My father wept as we were lifted out one by one.
He held me close to his heart covering me with his coat.
My mother kissed him and said
Oh Frank we have lost everything.
He touched her hair softly and said.
That's not true Mary love,
I just found everything I ever wanted.

across the yard a cat sat watching the fires in its eyes extinguished
and the scene of a happy reunion reflected in its place with the promise of happier times to come.

I'm happier in the evening,
At night,
And in my sleep,
But without you by my side,
I curl up, and weep.
I love the way your face lights up,
I love the way you get when you try to act like a grown-up,
I love the way you get angry,
And the way you get when you're sad,
I love the way you cry,
And the way you get when you try to act bad.
I love the way you get when you're kissing my lips,
I love the way you get when you accidentally slip.
I love the way we met,
In that crazy grocery store,
I love the way you fret,
Too bad that you're a *****.

I'm happier than I have ever been
Thank you for being why
You give me ten reasons to smile
For every one I have to cry