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"hatefully" poems
When I was a child I was scared to go to the bathroom alone I was scared of the cold thin air And the frozen drops of water. I slept with my blanket Tucked under my body Because I was afraid that the monsters Will pull it down my bed. Oh, how i was afraid Of the dark that comes after me In every corner of my cold bedroom. And the rain that stroke Majestic lightnings that cracked up The dark, lonely, and infinite sky. And, oh, how ironic it is That all of my fears are gone And are change by an obsession. I like the cold frozen water Running through my body Trying to escape Making me feel warmer than my iced skin. I love how the monsters are trying to Pull me down And try to help me to get out of this Cruel, cruel world. I adore the dark That keeps me away from being seen And makes me feel safe. And, oh, the rain. The beautiful drops of water From nowhere Cleaning my hateful and wicked body Saving me from myself. Funny, The only thing that hasn't change about me Is how much I truly Hatefully Love you.
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Different.
Fay stood next to Baruch in the Square have a ride if you like on my new blue scooter he had said so she did with one foot placed firm on the scooter the other pushed away the hard ground moving on the scooter hands gripping the rubber handle bars and she sensed air in her face and hair moving fast Baruch left behind her in the Square he thinking how happy now she was moving on over ground other kids shouting out faster Fay and she did as if all pent up fears had gone bang and had then disappeared get off that Jew's scooter her father shouted out and she turned and the fears all returned she got off the scooter handed it to Baruch all joy gone happiness had dissolved her father gripped her hand hauled her off looking back at Baruch hatefully but Baruch merely smiled his contempt his green eyes or hazel as some said shooting off those arrows pretendingly in the **** of Fay's strict catholic father but to Fay he blew to her from his palm the unseen pink kisses of concern then she'd gone up the stairs to her fate a lecture against Jews murderers of Jesus he will say or worst still punishment a beating to enforce his strict will.
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
HIS STRICT WILL.
i've been kissed by a sadist who holds my hand and guides me softly to dramatic pain at his hands i've been held like a child so fragile i could be dropped or broken with such ease and no fight i've been kissed by a sadist who hurt me so fully so hatefully that i don't quite catch on under his spell i wait and wait for love to greet me like it once had done the kiss of the sadist burns my flesh exposing the weakness underneath but i always return to the sadist's touch the sadist's kiss the sadist because i love his love and his love is my pain the kiss of the sadist makes me a *********
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Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
*********
And I’ll swear by forty swords If a sword is what will appease you “SWORDS!” I’ll shout with mock obscenity, “Oh, swords!” And you’ll wordlessly curse me through pinched eyes And you’ll inform me that I am not a jester And that you are not my mother, nor my caretaker. But I swear, (swords!) I swear that my mother has never hatefully condemned me for making light of a situation Never folded her face into contorted revolt at my weak attempts to mend a fractured conversation. And yet it seems as though I’ve prodded you with too many swords You’ve plastered your negligible scars with bandages irrelevant– Trivial, for though once wounds, they’ve since been healed. Like a puppet master, like a ventriloquist You’ve got me speaking in idioms A foster home, I’ve adopted your character And, doing so, determined your actions foolish And you the fool and jester.
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Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 3:29 AM UTC
Forty Swords
Awareness, Bashful and Carefree Depressed and Eager, Freely Gaining and Hatefully Ignored Justified and Knotted Love Mimicking Notorious Outsiders Patiently Quiet and Reassuring Silence Tentatively Unstable Waiting, Xenophobic Yearn and Zany                         **** you, for leaving me to experience                         the range of alphabetical emotions.
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Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
The Range of Alphabetical Emotions
I am a joke A fantastic sparkly joke Up on a billboard in the city Waiting for a fairy godmother to come To turn me into a pumpkin So I can hide from all the laughter Up above the world I see All the things that I have never been And I am just a glorified sign nobody touches When I cry my tears mingle with the raindrops No one ever knows that I have cried Wearing a picture of someone else pretending to be something else Everything and person rushes to stay young But I never move as I weather and I fade Hoping they will leave me be Just as I hope against hope to be restored Hatefully craving every face I scorn Cursed to constant vigilance The towers grow like weeds to choke me The people don’t see it That it’s the buildings that rule the world When it should be the sky and the air But the tiny people raise mighty cities to hide from it No more barbarian blood sacrifice They offer up little pieces of their brains Wrapped beautifully in shiny bits of soul As I smile and sell them things to fill in the holes
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May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 5:33 PM UTC
I am a Joke
Saw it Just for a moment, but it was there Black and gleaming silver metal Stalking after his shadow Glaring at everyone As though they had personally kicked his dog More metal in his face than a bomb defusing robot Mask of plastic and metallic fragments creeping up Nearly reaching the bridge of his nose Post apocalyptic video games had nothing on him An urban cliche Standing as we carried on Unnoticed Glaring just as hatefully at his own reflection Ear buds blasting lyrical angst of an X generation Without ever changing Saw it But just for a moment Still unnoticed He departed A haze of misplaced anger Black metal tunes, clicking metal And the strangest face mask I have ever seen
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Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
Black metal breathing apparatus
maturely premature thoughts preexist inside waiting to explode and marvel at the symmetry of our meetings, asymmetrical incongruities. unthought veils bearing everything mysterious. magic rarely happens when eyes open slowly for the first time. life hatefully spiteful, vengefully insipid, unknowing uncaring, who cares, time lost, repent, recant, re-imagined revisions, systems breaking human conditions, connections. see past the humanity, inanity and insanity are deliberate malfunctions- there is beauty inside every action, movement, and word. torrents of half thought forms cascade over fickle answers, responses to help your quest. yet in the same ****** breath you say ‘you’ve thought too much; imagined enough- excuses are all you need’ while i cry to you in silence, you’re missing the beat, the form, the aspect and motivation of the intellect that you so silently yearn for in your verbal abuses. this will only get you so far before you see as i see or not at all
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Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 3:45 PM UTC
Verbal Abuses
Churning in your stomach Burning on your tongue Taser in the chest Hatefully sung Pulsing of your mind Slamming of your heart Flatline screen Electric start Crawling through your veins Sinking in your blood Building, building, building Til your insides begin to flood Pulsing of your mind Slamming of your heart Flatline screen Electric start This is the buildup This is the monster's best Wait to see what happens When it bursts through your chest Clawing, crawling Stabbing, grabbing Feeding and falling This is the monster start Ripping out your heart This is the buildup The monster start
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Monster Build-Up
Where has she gone? All the others are in line, Mother bear knows. Three there, Two here, One down, But she is missing. An inquiry goes through Over channels Fierce and loud Because one isn’t lining up And it’s that one. “Tariq is down, hold on” she says Fervidly praying, breathing heavy And there she is. Anywhere but where she should be. So easy to find, far too easy. Swearing, scolding No time for kindness, Lost, another child lost And another may be lost, The most precious one here. Scathing scoldings go ignored Too naive, too proud A child hoping to **** death Though she calls that barbaric. Reformed, remade, reborn But never killed. And there’s another, Another cub but not hers Carelessly walking on, Not aware of the foe in his midst. Of her child, the fool. But she notices, thank God, But she freezes up, **** God. Frozen, still, just as feared. No gun in hand Shaking, shivering, Breathing so hard. “Don’t hesitate,” The cry goes through But this too is ignored. A gun in hand at last But unused, unfired Shakily held with weak grip. Yet a shot rings out. Another notch for the rifle And another cub protected, The most precious one. He’s fallen and she’s fallen Him in death, her in shock, And again the cry is made “Don’t hesitate”, And again it fails. For she’s truly a cub, Naive child hoping, praying Failing. The mother rushes out Cursing and pushing away curses “We need her, Morrison” she says. “I need her,” she does not. Out from hiding, Rushing, running, and, yes, Praying. Still so shaken, Still too still. She is grabbed, Pulled, tugged, Yanked up to her feet And dragged away, Hastily hidden. Harsh words hurriedly spoken As she is ****** down. Not in anger but in fear And tears flow And the words stop. Scowling the bear sits, Fearing even now in the den. Quiet falls Deafening, painful. Jack shut off, Others mollified, And she does not speak. Only watches, Watching, eyeing on hatefully, Glaring as Mother carves another. One more life, one more line And she doesn’t understand. Only judges quick and fast, Ever the idealist. And that stings more than death’s threat.
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Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
Into the den
Where has she gone? All the others are in line, Mother bear knows. Three there, Two here, One down, But she is missing. An inquiry goes through Over channels Fierce and loud Because one isn’t lining up And it’s that one. “Tariq is down, hold on” she says Fervidly praying, breathing heavy And there she is. Anywhere but where she should be. So easy to find, far too easy. Swearing, scolding No time for kindness, Lost, another child lost And another may be lost, The most precious one here. Scathing scoldings go ignored Too naive, too proud A child hoping to **** death Though she calls that barbaric. Reformed, remade, reborn But never killed. And there’s another, Another cub but not hers Carelessly walking on, Not aware of the foe in his midst. Of her child, the fool. But she notices, thank God, But she freezes up, **** God. Frozen, still, just as feared. No gun in hand Shaking, shivering, Breathing so hard. “Don’t hesitate,” The cry goes through But this too is ignored. A gun in hand at last But unused, unfired Shakily held with weak grip. Yet a shot rings out. Another notch for the rifle And another cub protected, The most precious one. He’s fallen and she’s fallen Him in death, her in shock, And again the cry is made “Don’t hesitate”, And again it fails. For she’s truly a cub, Naive child hoping, praying Failing. The mother rushes out Cursing and pushing away curses “We need her, Morrison” she says. “I need her,” she does not. Out from hiding, Rushing, running, and, yes, Praying. Still so shaken, Still too still. She is grabbed, Pulled, tugged, Yanked up to her feet And dragged away, Hastily hidden. Harsh words hurriedly spoken As she is ****** down. Not in anger but in fear And tears flow And the words stop. Scowling the bear sits, Fearing even now in the den. Quiet falls Deafening, painful. Jack shut off, Others mollified, And she does not speak. Only watches, Watching, eyeing on hatefully, Glaring as Mother carves another. One more life, one more line And she doesn’t understand. Only judges quick and fast, Ever the idealist. And that stings more than death’s threat.
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**Can't explain, your lack of concern Shallow mind in the shallow gutter** With all the other dark souls warm from their own light They scare you; you can't help but lock the door and overheat *Keep yourself away from these ugly people So you can only lose it on yourself I'm your Quasimodo dancing on stage with no music Because I'm the music and it makes us all sick* With all their behavioral token and superior thoughts You smile hatefully and spit in their eyes **You walk so high and you think of yourself You think you're a prophet to everyone's problems You are comic relief but you are not pain relief** *I'm a problem to everyone and most especially you I'm a ******* and I want you to know that And that I'm always your low-life Apocrypha Also know that suicide is the hardest place for the living and breathing And that sinners laugh below in a Heaven without actors Because they know how hard they try* No you don't *So they perish They don't ask for help I waste everyday I try with myself* I give all my energy for you *You tell me who I am like I am your holy bible* You're pathetic
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Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
Typical Acting Behaviour
You spite the way my features fall along my longitude and latitude. I look just cruelly enough to pique your interest. You will try to get through to me, doting my poise and violent words wrapped in silk. Part of you will ignore how I hatefully look at your end of the bed, even after all these years. I will quietly curse our love. You will find the strife and destruction I create mesmerizing. I will bear my sharp teeth in return, thrashing in your loving grip. I bleed when I must love, the act is tiring and heavy, yet I cannot deny it. You will try to heal this evil outlook. Yet, I am too bone-headed for that act of love. I will claw my way out of your arms each time you hold me, my tongue will sharply follow. I will tire you. I am cruel and evil in love. Yet, you will bare it. I will clash and curse us, as you desperately hold our pieces together. I will not recognize this as an act of love, but an act of spite. Must you remember how I was bore into this world? Unloved, a ******* and under the full moon. I have not been treated kindly. Love me at your own risk. I am rooted in my evil ways. As you are rooted in yours.
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Jan 11, 2022
Jan 11, 2022 at 5:29 PM UTC
M.R WHITE/GRIT TEETH FOR THE POOR SOUL
Replete of all its splendor my withered heart beats... Such a sad and tortured drum. Refusing me death It pumps its useless lifeblood through my veins My loneliness leaves me cold. My desires.... with a frosted skim of ice, How I long to melt for some unknown spring. I have love inside! I have love!!! Love, no one even pretends to try and see A poet!! What a joke!! A dying breed of feelers left to drown! Pour me the cheapest drink flavoured with the acrid taste of societies disdain!! I know I'm different (One of the nicer things that I've been called)... It makes those cookie cutter clowns try and fit me in the smallest box!! Smaller than the one where they reside!! Intellect feeds my mind yet makes me hungry all the time! And my soul? Oh my soul!! Always teaching me to walk a truer path. Never used to be that way. Now my ****** internal eye that's all it ever sees! My heart? I do not wish to speak of it. It beats. At least it gets to share its time with my soul.. and eating mind The night is old... I turn out the light. Once again I sleep alone and wish the empty darkness.. an empty dark good-night. Roosty
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Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
Hatefully Alone
I went lost in thoughts ahead, too many reasons to hide only by a fist over my chest, so lapsing into the divide of an untamable passage for I couldn't make up my mind. Still on my way to stray and drag myself through the morning, with an ashy army of tones lingered in there, softening my mind, playing along I almost drove you away. Unless my best bad idea, the one I hatefully called for more, long exposure and a trace bounced off: the right this fever got to have... so the rain and so the sake that I've known being just for my own.
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Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
A lapsing time
As I gaze upon her, Seeing her soon to be limp body awestruck in horror, With the sharp blade clutched within my own hand, Wondering if she knew this has always been planned. Only if she knew how easy it would be for me to break her, Only if she knew how easy it would be for me to torture her. Fear is what I love, For fear is what wasn't sent from the so-called "up above". Oh how I love seeing her trembling body shake, Seeing the tears flow, for this is no mistake. I shall soon be the last thing she sees, All I can hear her say is please, Please don't do this, Please we can get through this. Please please please. ENOUGH, is all I have to say to make her want to run away. Enough of the lies you threw at me, Enough of this fake reality, For now there will be nothing but brutality. Soon you will be finished and no one can hear your last cry. So all you have to do now is say goodbye, Goodbye to the life you once had, Goodbye to your mom and dad, Goodbye to everything you loved, For we both know there is no "up above" Nothing but total darkness swarming and eating you alive. Darling, this is a battle you will not survive. Shhh, there's no need to fret, For we haven't even started yet.
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Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
Hatefully loved
It’s morning. I woke up. It’s hatefully grey. I’d close my eyes and go back to sleep. Thoughts wander around me like chimeras And weave their nets from all sides of me. I think I’ll make one of them just a reality: I’ll make some coffee, there’s no other way. The day won’t work out without coffee. And there’ll be a mess in my head anyway. I’m up. What a nebulous nasty morning. It shamelessly drives me crazy at all. And why did I suddenly feel wholly That I know all about myself? What a fool? What a phenomenal wacky silliness! What a criminal irrational nonsense! I thought that tomorrow is really fatal As it was in the same way for years. And what is in point of fact? Where’s tomorrow? All colors around me are totally dim. I try to find my previous strong energy, But only monotony is all-around me. It was so simple yesterday, but now it’s ugly. My coffee’s sneezing. It’s got a cold. Well, I’ll go to live just like that, don’t look behind. And I will live as long as I can, with no support.
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May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC
My coffee's got a cold
Quiet White Boys wearing awkward glasses sporting clean haircuts and boring polo shirts keep to themselves, don’t know how to draw boundaries, don’t know how to reach out, and don't know how to reach inward. They eschew the material world in favor of a false digital one, and there, in the simulacrum, they find a modicum of validation— a reinforcement of a kernel of a horribly flawed idea: that they have somehow been more victimized than the victims all around them— the women, the racial minorities, the people afraid to practice their own religion, the people afraid to live as their true gender, the people suffering with mental illness, the people suffering with domestic violence, the girls who were sexually molested, the girls who were ***** and so on, and so forth. The Quiet White Boys learn that they are victims from other Quiet White Boys, and together they conclude that, because they have been victimized, they may therefore act heedlessly, aggressively, hatefully, mercilessly in furtherance of what they view to be justice. But it is a distorted, fractured version of justice that they seek— fetishized by the red, screaming faces with loud megaphones and debilitated, sickly hearts in the digital basement where the Quiet White Boys have chosen to live. A torch-carrying mob has never delivered real justice— not once in the entire history of human civilization, in fact— and a slate gray Dodge Challenger barreling into a crowd at fifty miles per hour is not an instrument of justice, either— it is just a reflection seen through a shattered mirror. And shattered mirrors don’t come unshattered simply because other Quiet White Boys are gazing into them with you.
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Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC
Quiet White Boys
Quiet White Boys wearing awkward glasses sporting clean haircuts and boring polo shirts keep to themselves, don’t know how to draw boundaries, don’t know how to reach out, and don't know how to reach inward. They eschew the material world in favor of a false digital one, and there, in the simulacrum, they find a modicum of validation— a reinforcement of a kernel of a horribly flawed idea: that they have somehow been more victimized than the victims all around them— the women, the racial minorities, the people afraid to practice their own religion, the people afraid to live as their true gender, the people suffering with mental illness, the people suffering with domestic violence, the girls who were sexually molested, the girls who were ***** and so on, and so forth. The Quiet White Boys learn that they are victims from other Quiet White Boys, and together they conclude that, because they have been victimized, they may therefore act heedlessly, aggressively, hatefully, mercilessly in furtherance of what they view to be justice. But it is a distorted, fractured version of justice that they seek— fetishized by the red, screaming faces with loud megaphones and debilitated, sickly hearts in the digital basement where the Quiet White Boys have chosen to live. A torch-carrying mob has never delivered real justice— not once in the entire history of human civilization, in fact— and a slate gray Dodge Challenger barreling into a crowd at fifty miles per hour is not an instrument of justice, either— it is just a reflection seen through a shattered mirror. And shattered mirrors don’t come unshattered simply because other Quiet White Boys are gazing into them with you.
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Improperly inviting Mutually corrupt Soulfully repulsive Wickedly tempting Hesitantly falling Inadequately open Eagerly fearful Lovingly ready Sitting worthlessly Sulking desperately Thinking hatefully Hurting intimately Facing reality Clinging dreamily Losing stability Loving lonely
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Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 11:19 PM UTC
Life of Love
Feeling empowered by president-elect Trump, racist groups are emerging, While in the past couple weeks The number of hate crimes has been surging. Over the past weekend a group Celebrated the recent election With Richard Spencer giving a speech That shows the group's true complexion. Spencer, current leader of The National Policy Institute, Ended his speech with "Hail, Trump!" While listeners gave the **** salute. The speech, referring to a "great struggle" Of the white race--"people of the sun"-- Was full of white ethnocentric Jargon, boldly and hatefully spun. Sounding like ****** in MEIN KAMPF, Spencer is one who advocates Ethnic cleansing all across Europe and the United States. Groups once on the fringe now feel That Trump and Steve Bannon provide A platform for them to spread their hate And bigotry nationwide. Unless Trump speaks out and condemns Hate groups using his name to spread Their racist messages, then this country Faces scary times ahead. - by Bob B (11-22-16)
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
Disturbing Signs
The morning is interesting! It can also be VERY boring.... However, the fact that i act like i ignore the magic of the morn shows that i am close-minded to something as exciting as opening your eyes to LIFE. Ever have the feeling of waking up numb? Waking up oblivious to both the world and your peers? Boarding up your ears and shutting the shades that cover your eyes because you feel like the morning is as close to the moment before you die? Trust me. I CAN understand (or maybe you cant reciprocate with me) But.....a cup 'o foldgers coffee and a sweet spongy pound cake could take that ****** feeling away and give you an oppurtunity to avoid apathy and floating aimlessly and hatefully through the world. The caffeine thats currently flowing through me makes me want to create for somebody; ANYBODY for that matter. Be the cause of laughter after a corny joke i make. Or maybe just whisper sweet somethings to a beautiful girl that enjoys my corny ways. What i would like to say to you is.... How are you feeling?
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Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
The Coffee and The Sweets.
Tears rushed down her face . Winter cold hardened her heart. Memories were lost. Her eyes dismissed his . As the rain poured hatefully. The rose was no more .
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
The Rose (haiku)
If I know you lie And I know you hurt me Then why oh, why Do I look at him with so much envy When I see you hugging him Why do I let it get to me Why did I let you hurt me Just as you continue to do so I ask questions I'll never know And neither will you When you kiss him It hurts me Just the same when he kisses you This much you knew But you don't care And I despise that But I still love you But hate you equally I glare at you hatefully Yet I stare at you lovingly And still wish To give a soft kiss And whisper in the mist But as I stand outside Peering upon and inside I see someone invading my space Deep down I knew you would replace My true love with his lying face I stand out side looking in See you and him stand Together again Hand in hand I stare at your face Drip a crystal blue tear And vanish without a trace
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Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 8:07 PM UTC
Outside Looking In
Listening to a phone call My dad to my grandparents I find what's going on My dad fighting his bitterness Striving to move on And my mom wants some court hearing To settle or something Wouldn't really be good for her My dad is being nice really He would benefit Get a healthy sum of money But he doesn't want that He wants this to not happen He wants to go back in time But mostly, he doesn't want reminders. Throughout this, I have found a few things. I respect my parents much less I have no home any longer My mom is an idiot Of course she is, she started this Didn't she? Or was it some doctor my dad Forbids me to see any longer? That somehow After seeing this man, my mother looked Hatefully at my father for months Before telling my father she wanted to Tear our family apart. Or was it a coincidence? I don't know Of course there's things that I don't understand But I know some people stay together for the kids Are we not worth it? Very few things make me cry But when they told me I did. And I hate it. I hate this situation My parents I just want to graduate and start my own life I'll do it right Get married once Have happy and healthy children Enjoy my job Stay in love forever. I suppose their feat was quite remarkable They decided to get married after 2 months And stayed together almost 17 years. I can beat that. I have to. I'll stay married forever when I make that choice That commitment That covenant I need to show them how I feel How angry I am But I won't Because I don't want to make this worse on them. I just can't... It's not right. None of this is.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
My Thoughts
Listening to a phone call My dad to my grandparents I find what's going on My dad fighting his bitterness Striving to move on And my mom wants some court hearing To settle or something Wouldn't really be good for her My dad is being nice really He would benefit Get a healthy sum of money But he doesn't want that He wants this to not happen He wants to go back in time But mostly, he doesn't want reminders. Throughout this, I have found a few things. I respect my parents much less I have no home any longer My mom is an idiot Of course she is, she started this Didn't she? Or was it some doctor my dad Forbids me to see any longer? That somehow After seeing this man, my mother looked Hatefully at my father for months Before telling my father she wanted to Tear our family apart. Or was it a coincidence? I don't know Of course there's things that I don't understand But I know some people stay together for the kids Are we not worth it? Very few things make me cry But when they told me I did. And I hate it. I hate this situation My parents I just want to graduate and start my own life I'll do it right Get married once Have happy and healthy children Enjoy my job Stay in love forever. I suppose their feat was quite remarkable They decided to get married after 2 months And stayed together almost 17 years. I can beat that. I have to. I'll stay married forever when I make that choice That commitment That covenant I need to show them how I feel How angry I am But I won't Because I don't want to make this worse on them. I just can't... It's not right. None of this is.
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curiosity ... involves a will to question a facility not needed when you have blind faith in shock jocks who compellingly save you the trouble there is power in persuasion a voice with sonorous conviction that corrals you into what to think burrows into a small mind like a god-voiced ear wig quelling the notion you are not so sure? Pauline has the courage to say what you are thinking or the audacity to fill an empty vessel that had nothing but a nascent fear that blissful ignorance was under attack so gather with the herd know you are not alone the mediocrity shepherds will reassure you that you are all together it’s them that are different it’s them who are hatefully wrong
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May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 1:21 AM UTC
curiosity ...
Desperate and lonely you need someone for holding but that's not how you know me so you just call me homie when looking for comforting company to give aid to your conforming country then you just start hatefully hunting to prove you are... something. You say get in the whip like you're cool and you're hip you sound like a **** that is dip but I need your script in my wrist so I hop in your motor vehicle hoping for a hopeless miracle that you'll stop acting satirical and break out that bag that is spherical. That shot must've not sat right you've been looking for a fight all narcotic night your sardonic sight has been on pointed humor to get me annoyed but I don't feel like Robert Downey Jr. or Pink Floyd when you interrupt my ****** stupor to argue like boys I just want to be a user drama devoid. You spit and stunt telling me if I don't roll the blunt I can get the **** out of your car I ask why you're acting hard is it emotional scars? Or Xanax bars? This planet's marred with cancer hearts you play your part by trying to act cool thus making the world colder you look like a piece of stool but think you're a soldier. My shoulders shrug high saying I don't want to be Drug Guy so there's no need to be unkind we can talk about this sometime once you're unblind but until then see not me with your peacocking you seem cocky but scream softly. You call me a ***** I say try me and you'll see it'll only be fueling an endless cycle of dueling but you want to be the crazy one so your choices are hazy ones and your ideas lazy ones like playing nun for gaming funds then regarding yourself as a mature man everyone can smell your manure ****
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Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 8:07 PM UTC
Act Cool
Desperate and lonely you need someone for holding but that's not how you know me so you just call me homie when looking for comforting company to give aid to your conforming country then you just start hatefully hunting to prove you are... something. You say get in the whip like you're cool and you're hip you sound like a **** that is dip but I need your script in my wrist so I hop in your motor vehicle hoping for a hopeless miracle that you'll stop acting satirical and break out that bag that is spherical. That shot must've not sat right you've been looking for a fight all narcotic night your sardonic sight has been on pointed humor to get me annoyed but I don't feel like Robert Downey Jr. or Pink Floyd when you interrupt my ****** stupor to argue like boys I just want to be a user drama devoid. You spit and stunt telling me if I don't roll the blunt I can get the **** out of your car I ask why you're acting hard is it emotional scars? Or Xanax bars? This planet's marred with cancer hearts you play your part by trying to act cool thus making the world colder you look like a piece of stool but think you're a soldier. My shoulders shrug high saying I don't want to be Drug Guy so there's no need to be unkind we can talk about this sometime once you're unblind but until then see not me with your peacocking you seem cocky but scream softly. You call me a ***** I say try me and you'll see it'll only be fueling an endless cycle of dueling but you want to be the crazy one so your choices are hazy ones and your ideas lazy ones like playing nun for gaming funds then regarding yourself as a mature man everyone can smell your manure ****
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