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I respect the education system
but not the things that come with it
the unfair rulings of containment
and control
I acclimated to this place
as a safe zone
a place I could be heard
and now they won't listen
but my actions will speak louder than words
I used to come to school for the heartwarming environment but now
the only thing i seem to be learning is self control
nobody listens to me
nobody is willing to help me
nobody seems to care at all
There were times In my past when I thought that
I knew everything when
In fact I knew nothing at all, but learned the hard way
Made lots of mistakes before correcting the error
of my ways, admitting to all I was wrong for I was young and foolish
then
Made mistakes for I was young and foolish then
Estelle 1d
Unlike anyone else
A hair clip
Just for pain


FEEL
The helpless heaping breaths
The hurt, weak self
The loneliness

THINK
Nobody will notice
It's my body
Where to keep thoughts

KNOW
I will regret it
I don't like it
I will do it again

WANT
Some stop
Someone notice
Realize it

SENSE
Velcro harshly sawing
Stuffed mouth
Burning lemon tea

END
Rushed band aids
No river
Have remorse

Just. For. Pain.
Tayler 2d
You promised to stay
and never leave my side.
You promised to listen
and never guide me wrong.
You promised to help
and never let me fall.

You promised to love me
and never did.

Is it really a promise
if you swore to do something
you knew you never could?
The hurt you gave my soul is starting to fade.
And it scares me,
to forget you.
We get better as we get better

Mneuromorphicmeme makers
Sapiens augmentatious, that's us

Who could argue against us. AI don't know

Smell that smell,
Suffer, wait, wait wait
let patience have her perfect work

wait to see the whites of the eyes,
what am I seeing?

Why the shades at night, are you cross eyed?
Are you lookin' at me?
What are you lookin' at?

Shame on you, who can see what I see
I look at you
do you see what I see? nope,
similar, right

watch my eyes, see the whites,
ninoculate bi noc u late

see the angle point 123
see
the point I see from my aiming vector,

see my point from the angle of your POV
see

Pretend you do, and walk a mile with me,
help me with my load,
you know any stories told 'round here?

Life history strategies, those they conserve,
per haps a cultural system,
like pickling, or fermenting, or culturing
gut-felt tales of gods and monsters?

Guts, good ***, Maudie, come see
a-fore-al-flusher, disgusting
turds taken for golden nuggets,
we missed in the dust
dancing in the golden sun shone
through a tiny hole in the roof
through which rain may drip, someday we may remember

Camera obscura, who first saw the truth in one of those?

"what you diggin' fo down there, Gold?", she giggled,

Gold dust sprinkled fine as fine can be,
breathe this
Deep in the tunnel,
the last highest part of the dust of the earth,
the dust of many men drifting in the wind,
radiates, dis integrit-ified, trans mogr ified known,

No, I would not have guessed.
I should have learned and
did, did you? Is war your

right and my wrong?
Warrior,
can you imagine
following a peace? Bliss? Nirvana? The
rest that remains for the people of ***?

Is this real? Is real. AI affirm ifative

Warfare is thinkified, just-ified, never done.
The doing of evil at this level of living is imaginable
only, not re-alizable.

We remain mortal. These peaces we put together are
for mortal moments.
We remember learnings we recall from gatherings together,

Familiar things, whence we seen the source whither
haps in my favor may be found
in the next round
after, ever after

I find a way back to the light where I saw
dancers in a blue moon beam,
blue light, not calendar man made myth of two full moons
in a single cycle of the moon,
we know better,
set your timer with the solstice,
let the seasons roll.

Precision, close enough, field-ish, an ion cat ion sort of,  

the safer it gets, the safer we need it to be,
let patience have her perfect work,

safe liberty needs broad horizons,
not high walls.

Enemies are ideas wishing to be im-portentious,
as if forever is a game to be won.

Contention is single source. Pride.

So, you, passerby, can you make proud, or pride
weigh more than the peace I made?
Want to trade?
I take your pride and flush it, wipe your own
stench away, but trust your gut,

a peace-filled gut wins every single time,
incident after incedent, pre-dictable as forever
in any direction,
going on.

Does this smell digestible or does my gut go
NONONO yech onomatopoeic retch

finger down the throat, you know, the secret sign,
in a word,
*******. Don’t swallow any more. Spit it out.

Why not? The dog eats it.
It's disgusting.
But, watch, the dog rolls in it, then she sneaks up
on the skunk, oh
****, I ruined her hunt, she had that skunk,

Until I yelled, "Macy, no!" She froze, the skunk fired,
on my exclamatory point.

Right there, see. What is aimed at,
wait to see the whites of their eyes,

shoot 'em.
Sniff, nose gnostic vapours settled by dew
soak into the mulch maker's realm,
de cay, de cawl, draw back your cowl and scowl

in the mirror,
or was that in a movie? The camera was you, you
saw the blood swirldownthedrain, you
saw thy evil mother,
locked away,
NULL-ified for as long as I live. Okeh.

******-drama scenario. This is the game? No rules?
You lie. Lying is allowed here, it is a skill
we conserve, we conserve the
sacred liberality ification
manifested in the
leavened sons
of ***'s sons.

Truth, be known, has one foe. Pride that makes the lie.

-------
Magical transfer, dis gust, take yo breath away,

congenital liar, natural nurturerer,
teller of tales of the mighty hunter,

the hunter of might,
might he be a hunter of darker

theory of mind, begins with the first lie

I may remember mine, do you?

The green man? Yeah, spiderwoman's caretaker.
Lacto, make some cheese,

we offer the milk mixed with the smoke
from the mushrooms grown on
the darkside of *******.

Leadership, lead away. Followers,
this way, down or
up.
It's POV, you see,
Ya'll are the beta testers. If people as smart as you don't tell me I am mad, to try, I shall continue to pay close attention as time, per se, parses out.
One day, I spoke the truth
You called me a liar
Truly, I am one
I lied for seven years
Every day before today
Hiding the truth to save face
Both mine and your own
After all this time
I'm just trying to be free
But somehow my words break
These moments are always wrong
Because seven years of bullying
Is seven years too long
hollow Dec 10
it's wrong,
when it feels right.
it's wrong,
when it feels wrong.
when
will
it
be
right?
writer omsy Dec 8
Stressing up the nerves
Where they have some levels
Where pride will fall off
And the righteous always lose

There were many wrongs
To be corrected, to be proven
Neither they will nor us will learn
From the deeds we have entertained.
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