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Succumb. Collapse.
Let yourself fall into every trap.
Then love. Cry. Learn.
And Grow.
By the time you know.
You're basking in the glow,
you've lived.
There's nothing better for you to give.
Life isn't just your own wonderful gift, you've blessed others. Part written by Lizzy
Showered in her sweet longing
I can tell I would have belonged here
There's only beauty in her calling
I've seen my beauty wracked in fears

So when her fingers brush me softly
she does not wash away sadness
she hopes to light me up
see my heart beat
so that how I treat her
matches
her love.

Yet, perfection isn't enough
I have handed all I own
I am hers to mold

I am pretty.
I am sweet.
I put her first.
I kiss her feet
I give her gifts.
I make her chief.
I am not enough.
I feel no love.


because I have already loved
but love does not exceed death

So her love
this attempt of mine
can only be a mess.
How does one transfer love to the living, when the loved one died?
I once met a girl
who became the reason why I was smiling everyday
but I was young
I was stupid and I stuffed it up
but honestly she was so amazing
borderline perfection
but I swear I fell for her
and I fell for her hard
she had me telling strangers how great she was
she was the kind of girl you write songs and poems for
the kind of girl you'll drop everything for
she was the one who changed me
leaving a mark I would never forget
a void I can never fill
and now I just feel so ****
empty
She was the girl who made me write my first poem, She was the girl who left me breathless with a pounding  heart and racing mind.
 Oct 2014 the other Umi
M
I wrote this for you because there were times I wish someone had written this for me-

Stop hating your reflection, stop hating the girl that is in your mirror. She is you, and you must love your fingertips to your eyelashes, your toes to your stomach all the way down to the edges of your soul and the depths of your heart.

Stop letting him be your world. Have you ever looked at a map? Have you even seen where the rivers go? Have you ever realized that you can get in the car and go? Don't tell me no, because it's true. Instead of following the rivers you let him create them and they flow down your face. Stop swimming in your tears, don't drown in his consuming love. Swim far away and resurface. Breathe in and out. Get out of the water and dry your tear soaked face off, and don't swim until you're ready again.

Stop letting your insecurities shape your mind. They're like needles injected into your body, leaving injuries and drops of blood while extracting your strength to put those thoughts to sleep. You have to learn to form your pretty little fingers into fists and start fighting off those nagging voices in your head that say you aren't good enough. Throw a punch, take a hit, get back up, wipe the sweat off your forehead and do it again. Battle until you come out bruised but on top, exhausted but a winner.

Stop letting him be your measure of worth. His attention and love will never, in your lifetime, fill the void where your own self love should be. He, nor any one guy, will ever fill your heart the way your own self love could. I promise you that loving yourself is so much more rewarding than someone else loving you. I promise I promise I promise.

Stop making excuses. Are you really happy or is that what you project? Is your smile real? Does he make you genuinely smile anymore? Are you falling asleep in his arms feeling alone? Are you?

Stop reading these words and start doing. I wrote this for you because I know he never would.
Her eyes spoke the words that her lips never said
As she lay there in silence curled up on the bed,
A solitary teardrop meandering her face
That fell from flushed cheeks onto bed sheets of lace.

With a vacant expression and hollowed out stare
Concealing the heartbreak and utter despair,
She clung to the pillow, so tight to her chest,
Upon which the head of her true love would rest.

The rose of her heart had succumbed to decay,
Faded, diminished, and withered away,
Blackened by misery, hardened through grief,
And drained of all passion by death's cunning thief.

Her once perfect world like those empires of old
Had crumbled to ruin, so desolate and cold,
No longer would love warm her soul like the sun
For the harshest of winters had now just begun.

In the recess of memory, precious and pure,
Her lover's last kiss would forever endure,
A comfort in sorrow and constant lament
Till the days of her own life are equally spent.
 Oct 2014 the other Umi
AFJ
Most schools have projects, in science classes and such.
Most of us, mastered the science of surviving in projects.

It's those at the bottom who need the most help, but cant even get proper school supplies.. where's the logic ?.

But oh, the rags to riches story is prevalent isn't it? Nope, the only rich I know is Professor Richard.

And that's not even something worth mentioning, he does more lessening than lessons lets paint the picture..

But these young kids don't understand, they try to curse them, place them in prisons, its a trap from birth..

Give them these Rick Rosses as role models, knowing they don't have fathers, instead of Tupac Shakur, showing them worth..

My bestfriend Tony once questioned his dark skin, just like i once questioned my brown.

how profound, a couple 4th graders at the time, having to prove that they were "down".

Crazy how Tony proved he was down, now i visit his site yearly on November the third.

And things aren't getting better, but nobody gives a ****, haven't you heard..

The prayers our mothers chant, ritually every night.

Praying to the Sun gods, perhaps one day we'll all unite.


-afj
i am a walking cliche
teenage girl
depressed
rarely smiles
long sleeves to cover my wrists
i have a secret
-roll of eyes-
don't we all...
i wear toms in the spring and
chuck taylors in the fall
my shoes match my moods
when the sun shines brightly and i'm wearing dresses for days
i'm weightless
and then the sun sets and the trees rattle fiercely in the wind and my shoes,
they bind my feet to the ground
i crawl into my hole and start piling on sweaters and blankets it's dark
i'm alone
the sun won't rise for another 6 months
until then i'll shuffle around until i can find the nearest exit
i'm a walking cliche
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