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Francie Lynch Jul 17
Birthed by altruism or selfishness,
Motivated by personal gain
Or the forfeiting of a nation;
It's the betrayal of friends,
Country, cause and trust.
Benedict Arnold,
The traitor has many personas.

Traitors are hated by those they prefer. (Tacitus)

I forgive those who murder and steal,
but a traitor, never.

A nation cannot survive treason from within...
He rots the soul of a nation...
No wise man ever thought a traitor should be trusted.

Softness to traitors will destroy us all. (Robespierre)

An open enemy, however criminal, is no traitor. (Spooner)

To have a traitor as an ally is to have an enemy in waiting. (Carey)

It is the just decree of heaven that a traitor never sees
his danger till his ruin is at hand.

There are but two parties now... traitors and patriots. (U.S. Grant)

If I had one bullet and I was faced by both enemy and traitor,
I would let the traitor have it.

There is a special place in hell reserved for traitors. (J. Trudeau)

Every man must be for the U.S. or against it.
There can be no neutrals... only patriots or traitors.
(S. Douglas)

Et tu, POTUS. (F. Lynch)
2020 Campaign Slogan: "Make Rusmerica Great"
Nobody Sep 2017
Your suffering is always greater than mine,
you claim your fears are bigger.
Whine your feelings are better than mine,
insist my feelings are simpler.

Try to laugh my feats away like a joke,
but my will is more forward than yours.
Now don’t expect any warmth from me,
my spirit won’t be ignored.

You think you can quiet my defiance,
but I'm used to standing alone;
still these ego trips never get old,
they only harden my resolve.

So you timidly try and silence me,
then make excuses to escape.
‘Cause your wits won't handle me long,
I’m the one you can’t sedate.
LexiSully May 2016
Feelings and emotions course through me like the cold tears run down my face

My breaths come short and forced as my heart burns with despair

"Do they secretly distrust me?" I cry into the night, for I had truly believed that I had changed for the better

"They must, for why else would they do such a thing as this?"

The darkness absorbs me, surrounds me, and I weep until I weep no more.
J-J Johnson Mar 2015
"No! No! This cannot be happening"
The words stumbled out as I tried hard to keep the sogged eye from draining
My vision became blurrer
And blurrer as I turned and run out of the house
Grabbing my stiletto as I did
Under the pear tree in the garden I stopped
And allowed the now heavy eyes
To drain the burning water
They flow on as if rain onto a wet clay statue
Bitter and hurt
Bitter from the disappointment and forlon
From a mixture of shock, disbelief and loss
Served in a glass of betrayal and a tray of painful regret
I raise the dagger in a drunken cognition
For my sob now has become the cry of a damage soul
A disfigured spirit
I can barely hear them from without in the midst of the caos
Those little voices in my heard
Screaming out at me
Hitting hard on the walls of my mind
Pushing my conciense
"Do it!" one says
"It wouldn't solve the problem" the other retorts
"But it will end it!"
"Leaving bigger problems"
The blood in my head is more than in any other part
The heat rising in exponents
The tension now causes my whole body to trob
To ache
My mind cannot hold it any longer
The quicker the better
I opened my mouth to say my final
But all the came out
Was a scream.
Grey Feb 2016
I keep killing for you, darling,
and it seems I can't stop.
We stand here in the bone-dry night
with the blood at our feet shining like stained glass, broken on the concrete.
You offered me a hand to hold, silly sentiment.
I pull the knife from your shoulder.
And when the wind blows dust into your wound, I turn my back to it.
I am your shield,
a listless child in a fucked up world, but Charlie,
I would never lace your fingers in mine.
I would take a goddamn bullet to the brain, but I can't let you hurt me.
Your blood is sharp, my darling love, it's torture
and you would love nothing more than to bleed in my mouth, like razors on my lips.
We're a skipping record, Charlie.
Every morning it's the rosary on tv,
it's the smell of burnt toast and burnt hair.
We're a tragedy, but unwritten.
An unwanted Shakespeare where Benvolio and Mercutio kill each other.
I'm made aware of lightning and pen knives whenever I look in your eyes.
Stop stalling, Charlie.
You're making excuses, but you need to make time.
I'm killing for you.
My hands are covered in your blood and the stains won't come clean.
I'm racing trains, seeing who crashes first.
And it's me, just so you know,
with a pistol in my hand.
My teeth are laying in the dirt,
making mud of the blood that drips from the cheap shots they got in.
When you kiss me, which you never do, I lose more teeth.
You're hard with your lips, punching like a man in a bar fight.
Give me whiskey.
Give me stains of dusty clay.
Even with my eyes closed you manage to pry my eyeballs out.
Your love is a beating, Charlie.
It's like hate, even though I know that you don't.
Do you?
I wouldn't know because now it's my blood on the concrete,
and it's your knife aching between my ribs.
It's mercy, Charlie,
but I can't bring myself to thank you.
Jeff Gaines Apr 24
I had my heart broken today for the last time ...
I was snooping ... Mea Culpa.
I can't help it ... It seems that every time I do, I find what I'm looking for ...
I loved her ... but she doesn't understand ... if she does, then she hates me.
I can't believe what I found today ...
I feel like half of my conscience wants to show me the truth that I've known for almost a year.
I also feel the other half wants to pretend that everything is normal and OK. Because I, like everyone else, need to love and be loved.
I never mistreated her ... at least that’s what she says.
I never deserved the lies and deceit ... at least that’s what she says.
I never understood, no matter how hard I tried.
I communicated, I negotiated, I pleaded, I even quit the relationship ... but she always came back.
I took her back each time ... the reasons were many:
I felt that she understood my frustration and that she felt bad.
I felt that maybe she could sense the loss of my love and actually missed it.
I felt that she finally understood that my patience and understanding of her painful, unexplained crimes was really my trying to understand her issues and still stand beside her.
I even felt that maybe she could understand that my being there through all of this was because I loved her.
I took her back willingly each time, thinking that at last we were going to once again share the love I tried so hard to show her.
I remember feeling, many times that it was time to move on, but she always lured me back.
I loved her more than any woman I had ever been with.
I worked harder on this relationship than any other in my life.
I read the poem for the first time the day she gave it to me.
I looked at the title ..."Jeff Gaines"
I was so flattered ... I had tears in my eyes.
I read the words and the tears leapt to my cheeks.
I caressed the golden frame she had mounted it in.
I looked into her eyes ... flattered that she could write such a beautiful thing  ... about ME!
I can't say that any one had EVER done such a thing.
I hung it on the wall in my living room at my cottage by the river  for all the world to see.
I wanted them to see it; it was the most beautiful poem I had ever read. How could this be about me?
I would read it and my insides would get all warm and fuzzy.
I couldn't hide the joy on my face as I read the words ... over and over again.
I could never put into words what that poem meant to me.
I could never put into words what the girl who'd wrote it had meant to me.
I could definitely never put into words how it made me feel to think that I had inspired those words ...
I told you earlier ... Mea Culpa. Mea máxima culpa ...
I was snooping ...
I found that poem in a spiral notebook ... from her days in high school.
I found that she had written it about, and for, someone else.
I found that it made me feel like our whole relationship was a lie.
I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why she had been with me, or what she wanted from me.
I looked back through the time we spent together and I remembered all the lies and games I had to deal with, never giving up, because I believed in this relationship ... and her.
I always tried to make her feel confident in my feelings for her.
I felt like she always tried to make me doubt.  
I found that as I read the words in her own handwriting, it finished what was left of my heart and it finished what love I had left for her.
I didn't think it was possible.
I couldn't believe that the biggest lie she'd ever told me ... was hanging on my wall.
I envied him.
In all honesty, I wasn't snooping. It just worked easier in the composition to not explain that. But I will here. I was sitting at the computer desk in our apartment. On my left was a 3 foot wide, 3-shelf, book case. It was filled with ring-binder notebooks of hers. Probably more than 200! She'd told me they were her "Notes from school" and I never gave them another thought. I had never touched one in over 4 years.

But that day, I had found something online that I wanted to write down. The printer tray was empty, so I looked around for a scrap of paper and figured I might find a blank sheet in one of these notebooks. I randomly grabbed one that had a larger ring in its spine, because it was easier to grab. I put it on my lap and opened it to a random page ... RIGHT to that poem.

Once again, the universe showing me things I am in desperate need of seeing. It was one of the sadder moments in my life, I must say. I opened MS Word and wrote the date at the top. Then I cut loose with whatever came out. The format of every line beginning with "I" just happened ... I left it, as is, and that was that.
Alaa qapaja Feb 13
It’s like a knife in the middle of your back
You can't Reach it
You cant drag it out
you shouldn't...
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