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"hijacker" poems
It’s a good day the lord granted. Everything seems so perfect. Weather is sweet. Sun’s shining. What could go wrong? …….Until….. I felt you coming. Like a hijacker through a rear view mirror. How I wish for a false alarm. Dear lord may this cup pass. A moment to accept the inevitable arrived. Oh my God! you seized me once again. You came like a thief at midnight. You hijacked my mind. You exposed me to wrath of migraines. Horrible 30 seconds in a 24hour day. It's like a small stain on a white garment. The cruelty of an epileptic seizure is inevitable. https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
Epilepsy art thou cruel.
Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD Attacked by services syndicate post grad Breaking the code of conduct that's sad Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad All privileged storm troopers got more than I have Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav? As a key worker your care is what we have But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker Violating human rights piggy back hijacker The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler Whats the biological molecular structure Of a mental health disorder A caucus of people of who can shout louder Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter
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Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 6:35 AM UTC
Stigma
you're sneaky, i'll give you that.

 just when i wasn't looking
 YOU
 snuck into my ribcage 
infiltrated the walls of cartilage 
(and distrust)
 and you stole it.
 ripped it from the tangles of veins (and anger) and arteries (and fear)

 and left me with nothing but hollow awe. 

it's fine, you keep it.
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Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
the heart hijacker
All the hijacker does is scream And it is enough. Blisters burn the brain until A rancid tinnitus Washes through my canyons, flooding everything Total destruction A later me may find small shells Evidence that at some point I lived I fought I existed But for now, I go the way of the dinosaurs
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Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 9:37 PM UTC
Welcome to my Brain
As winters breath gives me a shy kiss, I sink into you. Forgive me if I make you everything I am not accustomed to yearning in particles, Just in crests and great heights. The narrowing of your hands, Your untainted Blush, The way you annex beams, You hijacker, You owl. And you come in waves, That drown me with insistence.
0
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
015.
Most of us carry around the present and cumulative effects of many wounds. We've experienced uncounted broken promises, unkind words, and moments when our hopes for acceptance have been brutally crushed. Some of us have experienced more overt abuse and infidelity. How do we live with that pain? ....Other people hurt us because they are drowning and doing what it takes to fill their own emptiness.. (G. Baer, M.D.) They are lurking everywhere just waiting to pounce.....invade.....take all for the sake of only themselves. They steal what is precious from anyone they can feeding hunger never sated starving in their gluttony.   Pay attention                    defective Don't let them in                    invasive Protect yourself                    vindictive From their sin                    destructive
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Hijacker
I was at my uncle’s house, new to the city and just a teenager. One afternoon, someone’s shoe was stolen from a mosque, an incident I didn’t know about, and I hadn’t even visited that mosque at the time. That night, I went to the mosque to pray. As I prepared for my prayer, someone grabbed my collar and accused me of being the thief. They judged me by my poor appearance and the fact that I wore similar-looking shoes, which I had bought from a store, not stolen. That day, my self-esteem about my looks was destroyed, and my social anxiety began. A mob gathered proudly, ready to punish me. The noise was so loud that no one could hear my pleas of innocence. Fortunately, the call for prayer saved me, temporarily. The mob decided to beat me after the prayer. They took me to the third floor, made me stand by a large window to pray, and surrounded me so I couldn’t escape. For a moment, I thought about jumping out the window, but I wasn’t brave enough. Trembling in fear, I prayed to God, begging for salvation because I was innocent. After the prayer, as they prepared to attack me, I spotted my cousin in the distance. I ran to him and explained everything. He confronted the accuser and forced an apology out of them. They said sorry, and I forgave them, but their apology couldn’t heal my shattered self-esteem or erase my newfound social anxiety. Even now, whenever I see a thief, robber, or hijacker caught and beaten by a mob, I feel deeply sad. Even if they committed a crime, they deserve proper justice and the right to be heard. I understand some people vent their frustrations by punishing criminals, but mob violence isn’t justice. A mob can never establish true justice. My plea to them is this: at least, don’t feel proud about beating someone, even if they’re a criminal.
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Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 2:53 AM UTC
Mob Justice
I was at my uncle’s house, new to the city and just a teenager. One afternoon, someone’s shoe was stolen from a mosque, an incident I didn’t know about, and I hadn’t even visited that mosque at the time. That night, I went to the mosque to pray. As I prepared for my prayer, someone grabbed my collar and accused me of being the thief. They judged me by my poor appearance and the fact that I wore similar-looking shoes, which I had bought from a store, not stolen. That day, my self-esteem about my looks was destroyed, and my social anxiety began. A mob gathered proudly, ready to punish me. The noise was so loud that no one could hear my pleas of innocence. Fortunately, the call for prayer saved me, temporarily. The mob decided to beat me after the prayer. They took me to the third floor, made me stand by a large window to pray, and surrounded me so I couldn’t escape. For a moment, I thought about jumping out the window, but I wasn’t brave enough. Trembling in fear, I prayed to God, begging for salvation because I was innocent. After the prayer, as they prepared to attack me, I spotted my cousin in the distance. I ran to him and explained everything. He confronted the accuser and forced an apology out of them. They said sorry, and I forgave them, but their apology couldn’t heal my shattered self-esteem or erase my newfound social anxiety. Even now, whenever I see a thief, robber, or hijacker caught and beaten by a mob, I feel deeply sad. Even if they committed a crime, they deserve proper justice and the right to be heard. I understand some people vent their frustrations by punishing criminals, but mob violence isn’t justice. A mob can never establish true justice. My plea to them is this: at least, don’t feel proud about beating someone, even if they’re a criminal.
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