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#marked
Tucked away in a corner, lay a wooden ruler blending in with the past. Flat as a floorboard and weathered as a dock. There are layers of built-up ink, graphite, marker and paint along one of its long  edges—the side with the incrementation, naturally. As though differentiation demands to be marked. Deep, erratic gouges from the seven and three-quarters to eleven inch mark suggest a moment of frustration—perhaps a project under the gun or a predisposition to flying off the handle. On its back are ten “safety rules” geared towards teaching children how to avoid dangerous missteps with strangers. Things like: “Never Hitchhike—NEVER!”, or “Never Tell Callers That You’re Home Alone” and “Never Accept Toys, Candy, Rides, Money or Medicine From Strangers”. However well-intentioned this small piece of wood may have been, the owner used a thick, black marker to write “MEGhan’s ruler” across them and actually painted over two rules with it—namely: “Always Play or Walk With Friends” and “Never Give Your Name or Address To A Stranger”. Additionally, there is a line etched through the safety in “safety rules” as well as the same blacked-out treatment given to the other end with the two rules. This person was clearly a child and, most probably, was more worried about other kids taking her stuff than getting kidnapped by a stranger. Yet here lies the ruler with no account of Meghan’s current whereabouts or condition. Needless to say, one cannot rule out the intervention of a stranger in her life at some point. On the other hand, maybe she just got tired of measuring things.
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Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC
stranger ruler
Tucked away in a corner, lay a wooden ruler blending in with the past. Flat as a floorboard and weathered as a dock. There are layers of built-up ink, graphite, marker and paint along one of its long  edges—the side with the incrementation, naturally. As though differentiation demands to be marked. Deep, erratic gouges from the seven and three-quarters to eleven inch mark suggest a moment of frustration—perhaps a project under the gun or a predisposition to flying off the handle. On its back are ten “safety rules” geared towards teaching children how to avoid dangerous missteps with strangers. Things like: “Never Hitchhike—NEVER!”, or “Never Tell Callers That You’re Home Alone” and “Never Accept Toys, Candy, Rides, Money or Medicine From Strangers”. However well-intentioned this small piece of wood may have been, the owner used a thick, black marker to write “MEGhan’s ruler” across them and actually painted over two rules with it—namely: “Always Play or Walk With Friends” and “Never Give Your Name or Address To A Stranger”. Additionally, there is a line etched through the safety in “safety rules” as well as the same blacked-out treatment given to the other end with the two rules. This person was clearly a child and, most probably, was more worried about other kids taking her stuff than getting kidnapped by a stranger. Yet here lies the ruler with no account of Meghan’s current whereabouts or condition. Needless to say, one cannot rule out the intervention of a stranger in her life at some point. On the other hand, maybe she just got tired of measuring things.
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1
Marked our skin in ink Each one with secret numbers Now just lines I think
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Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
Haiku in ink
to leave little stains on your cheeks with my lipstick to see how good you look marked up your perfume upon my breath so everyone knows who I'm with tight hugs slow dances nights in autumn cuddled up just me and you angel having a good time
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 8:38 PM UTC
I want
You have forever marked me. Leaving me ugly & wounded Leaving me less than whole Leaving me alone & cold. I am scarred with a constant reminder That you once loved me. I hope that you don't return.
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Scarred
she was German we we're glad we couldn't see her face but we couldn't help but to admire her handrail we couldn't see fear there whos fault is that could it possibly be because she was German Excuse me veRy much Miss ma'Am Now can we paint your hand rail was she she was German ? ... .. .
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
Untitled
Your lips kiss me black and blue. Lucky for you, that's when I feel prettiest.
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Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 12:08 AM UTC
The Kiss
Your voice; a melodious tune that replays itself in my head, and as I watch you speak the words dance off your lips and linger onto mine... Divine. That's what you are. A being so rare, so bright, that I am fortunate enough to have crossed paths with you. And though our paths may not be intertwined, the thought of you is burned into my mind. You have left your mark and I am scarred. So beautifully scarred.
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 5:42 PM UTC
Scarred
The words curled around her tongue vanishing before she gets a taste of it Her hands are inked with sentences Her stomach are filled with phrases unknown Every bit of her skin Are marked with ancient lines Four lines, five lines, six lines And she lost count of the others on her back They called it stanzas From the World Before When words were freely written and spoken On things called books and papers With an ink that must be the same As the one inscribed on her soul. She is an obscenity A walking contradiction A curse in the post human language era As she bears all the words and languages of the world So that all can see through her The beauty that words can make (Yet none can read nor understand) Even though none can read nor understand. She wears her soul on her skin. Still, no one can read her.
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Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
Tattoed Soul
You carry with you a blackened sky Not everyone can see it, but it's in your eyes It's in the very heart of your being I hear the sorrowful song your singing You hide it well Your personal hell But I have my own, I can tell I can feel your pain's tide ebb and swell It threatens to pull you under I too hear that thunder We are creatures connected by darkness The beast of Hell have marked us You try to hide this from the world As your life spirals and whirls It's exhausting, I know for a fact For everday your taken aback Living life under that blackened sky You can hide it, except from your eyes
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May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
Your Blackened Sky
I know I'm different, Believe me it's true... I've been through too much, You-------
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Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
7-15-15
I wish your memories were threads Sewn through my skin Your beautiful stitching A make shift fix But your memories are splinters A dull ache Hiding in the depths of my head Splinters, you are a foreign object My body in protest You linger a reminder Just behind my skin You're always there
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Make Shift Fix
It would be much too dangerous to talk about Or remember at all That night A piercing scream from behind A clatter of fallen crockery on the floor Crimson fills the apron she wore I do not yet think to ask how or why My heart beats a silent cry I kneel beside to feel her warmth All I feel are empty eyes slice into my soul My eyes look over the pool of red Gathered by the drops her body shed But for the blood, she can be lost in dreams I think, as I imagine her pale in peace Grabbing a mop I cleanse her of the damaging dye Her body now remains uncoloured, untainted Of that which still inflames her quintessence She's been marked, I realise In an irreparable scarlet All action, all words- scattered on the tiles Lying broken and futile
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Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Marked