Hello Pop,
You said you liked a good story.
I'm no good at tellen stories, coz you were always the one that told'em and I was always the one that listened but,
I got one now.

Not a nice one.
None'a that feel good **** you see on TV.
But, it's a story
and I owe you one.

It's about you,
the bits you missed,
and me:
the not so good for a so called 'good kid'.
Not that many called me that
But,
then you went and did.

Made me think I couldn't be so bad.

Yet here I am.

Throwin stone's when I've got no one to hit.
Too bored to eat or sleep, just fucken spit.
Wishen that great god gave me someone to hit.

I'm a sick girl, ya know.
That's what they tell me.

Sick compared to those straight kids -
the pride of Glory Spring.
"Glory to God!" they all fucken sing
and even me who can’t speak good
can still recite that invisible,
unbearable
ditsy
dimpled
****.
He was your favourite story and everyone elses, after all.
Vicar Roy made sure of that.

Vicar Roy.
With his crinkly eyes
his toothy grin
the way he wouldn't blink when you challenged him.
God while god was hiding from the mess he made,
but God was doin’ nothen for me.
Ma saw that before you could.
She wanted me out,
She wanted me taken to a real city so they could study my head,
the way it worked.
The way my words never came
just a crooked grin.
But, even when the crayons became weapons
and the kittens went missen
The Vicar went and blessed me the same way.

Glory Spring, with its neat little rows of cottages and cabbage gardens,
so evenly cut.
Soft colours,
bright greens.
So good,
good,
good.
Then I came along.
Rabid,
urban wild
itchen for a stomach slit
goin' "Guts for you"
after "Treat or trick?"
setten haystacks on fire
tryen to find the pin
only to drop it on purpose.

Are you scared of me, Pa?
I think even God is scared of what he created.
That's why we never see him,
but I'm here now Pa.
You can't hide from me
and I gotta story of why you don't gotta no more.

life got sippin, life got me trippin, its goin down the drain slowly im (tippinX2 )off the wiskey bottle i got in my kitchen and im itchen for a cigarette and im on a ****** mission, im the ******* in the back, goin off the track, tryin to getta grip on myself but id rather relapse, maybe and handle to my face or maye half just so i can sit back relax and laugh, i find it funny when ya talkin game spittin ya flame, how you react when ya ***** getting ****** in the *** and im just livin life **** swag, **** around and come and get smacked, ill smash ya skull i know its brittle like some ******* glass, take another drink na im on fire ***** ill pass,and if think you hire ***** ill rash, and if you battle, il make skelatel system rattle, and im the shepard of this ***** and your just the cattle,

you left me  like rotten food,
bitter and sour too,
cause you couldn't savor to the flavor of love that I catered you, never betrayed you,
So why? did you leave?
The only peace I have is ******* with these purples trees,
And I smash almost everyday mary jane,
Blazin on these leafs,
and still hurt all the same , I cant rid all this pain..
I thought we would be true with no masks, but your love had different plans boo,
Left me itchen a rash of questions while cutting myself too.
Ignorant to think we would last,
Lost in thoughts starring thru a wine glass.
The gates of life in the past were it haunts me and not you,
Feeling like straight trash , too much to mash and you knew.
All you did was laugh..
use me, abuse me,
Toss and threw me out..
Like im nothing
just cutt me off
am cast me out, and didn't unlock the coffin.
Any ties and every lie you told me, i thought was true, was straight bluffin.
Now its a surprise how i lost you and now im confuse everything that was about you is now more of me too.
Growing in pain, slowin in sanity, Dancin in the rain..
Looking at the sky wishing to die But I wont,
im Stuck up in the earth esteem lower than dirt
all I feel is hurt, how can i make it work?
I don't know where to go,
everywhere is close doors
all I do is feel, and the real just breaths thru my pours feeling so sore,
drinkin and thinkin more and more outta place,
cant find my face, Cant find the line to trace, Cant sea the shore to be sure
that ima just make it..
So ima just fake it, roll it and blaze it,
live thru the phases, work out these mazes,
and escape this fate to print my own destiny on its own pages.

BY: Emmanuel jv Hernandez
7/6/13