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SangAndTranen Mar 2018
Not everyone can be heroes.
There are us.
The cowards.
The ones that,
Quite honestly,
Are not willing to give up our lives.

We are not bad people;
We are not selfish.
We pray that we don't find ourselves in a situation
Where bravery is the desired virtue.
Where fingers will be pointed,
Insults will be thrown.

'Who cares what they think?'
We don't.
We care what you SAY.

'Don't dwell on idle threats.'
We don't.
But they are never idle.

You scoff when we flinch at the raise of your hand,
Calling out: 'wimp'.
But you are the ones
That conditioned us with fear.
We don't run from everyone,
So if we run from you
Then what have you done?
You have hurt us.
Hit us.
You repel us.
And
For some reason
We repel you.

Go ahead. Hate us.
Pressure us into doing things because we aren't strong.
Beat us because our bodies are frozen in fear.
Insult us because our lips are sown shut.

No one can be perfect.
Not everyone can be a hero.
We aren't heroes.
But neither are you.
Idk what this is... It's not one of my favourites tbh.
H Phone Jan 2018
It’s him again
There he comes bursting into my home, uninvited and unwelcome
He only ever comes over to scold me and insult me and harrass me
There is no end to the list of things he dislikes me over
And he wants to make sure I know all of them too
“You only care about yourself!”
“You barely put in any effort!”
“You always bring pain to others!”
Maybe he’s right about some of the things he says, who knows?
But I just want him to leave me alone.
I just want to be able to enjoy the things I like
And do the things I have to
But he keeps interrupting me
And I’m sick of it
Just as he’s about to go on another rant, I cut him short
“Let me show you the way to the door.”
I say to Myself.
allie May 2017
the longest runs
are the things that **** us
we can train
we can raise our knowledge
but we can never prepare for the hurt
the anger
the tears
the scars.
when i say what's happening
people pity me
they try to 'help'
they look at me with sad eyes
and tell me to just solve it.
i can't, now can i.
it hurts.
i love.
i hate.
when you think you get out of it
it ropes you back in
if i cry
you don't care
if i yell
you don't care
if i leave
you hit me with words
you slap me with insults
tell me
i'm stupid
i'm an idiot
i'm worthless.
you pull me back in
into the fishing line
and i'm caught
caught on the hook
you trick me
say that you'll always love me
no matter what.
then you go along
and shed your hateful words like a snake
still,
i'm caught in the fishing line.
i'm stuck in the hook.
and there's no getting out.
i'll never escape.
When the value of what
You might add in a conversation
Is the same of that of a dying sorrow
Share it with the lamenters and the widows
For the ones with our heads onward and ahead
Have little time for a useless need in our heads

Useless ****** are abundance in this world
But dears, the only things
that look good doing nothing are statues
And your looks would pass ignored by the greeks, french, romans, and even the barbarians

Please, do mind me, this is the simplest insult
For the ones that prefer to glue their *****
Watching life passing​ by and the world spinning through
If there's so little you can do
Why don't you do us a favor and fly off
Today I tried to remain as Zen as possible, but you know when you get home and all your barriers melt down and that ball of infuriating fire is still lighting but because of the exhaustion it looked as if it were running out the gas and what remained was the ashes that crept into my mind threatening to evolve into a migraine, well you do? I felt exactly that.

As the fierce soldier I am, I haggled off this reality with that of my subconscious and adventure myself in the depths of dreams. What a journey, I dreamt with verboten love and with abuse, cliffs and heights. What I can highlight and what bedazzled me the most was a peculiar scene: I was in front of a pizzeria and the family in charge was in the middle of a severe argument. The father was holding forcibly the wrists of the mother, this one cried and implored him to stop, while their kids cried and shrieked. In the outlook of my dream I had the pleasure of having subtitles! How crazy is that! the family was talking an indigenous language and I could read what they were talking. Thing was my mother got in the middle of the argument and asked for the kids to take them, as in being their savior. I red that the little baby was in the "highest mountain", the father kept repeating that they were obliged to go there. I decipher it as the highest room in the tall building. Upon arriving no kid was there and despair started consuming me and just THEN my mother woke me up.
Has anyone ever told you that you're like a cloud?
...

**the moment you go away everyone else's day gets brighter
Mims Oct 2016
Gay is not an insult,
but she desperately tries to make it one.
Matt Hews Oct 2016
You're
    fat
      ugly
         stupid
             worthless

Suicide?
I think not.
*******
Who can blame someone for believing what they are told their whole life?
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