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your a pretty girl in platinum, anyone tells you, your not. You've got the football team just crake em'.
Like that **** don't matter, you'll forget about it when life is served to you, on a silver platter.
you smile in all your pitchers, but you've got all of them fouled. because behind closed doors your broken, and inside you feel like your choken'
You've got the chance to be the best, but inside your just like the rest.
Life's not fare, not what its all cracked up to be.
You watch as your mom forgets you dad's infidelity.
Your brothers never home, he left when he was old enough
leveeing you to pick up the ruff stuff.
He smokes to much duch in the bathroom, acts out, schools about to call your dad soon.
Your mom reads the note you wrote, se calls you out and pushes you down.
Sais if you ruin the face of the family, they'd never find your body.
Because of this, you feel death is your best option.
The way out its in the bathroom, take a few pills you'll be dead soon.
your running a race but you'll never finish it. But all your doing is trying to save face.
Now I'd like o take this moment, to tell you to take a bow, weight for the call of the Curtin, because you've fouled them all, they never knew you were hurtin'
After all this you come out alive.
Because some kid saw it in your eyes.
Remember that kid you watched get pushed to the ground, he knew that you were feeling numb and you really had no one.
the kid stud up for you when he never even knew you, he stood up because he really hoped you would come out of it, and be above it....but you never woke up, in your head you had enough, your mom cant see It because she's to busy trying to be 'it'. your dad doesn't notice you, and your brother doesn't even know you, so who can blame you for wanting to duck out?
cant say it agene ill see you when I don't want to pretend.
OVC Nov 2013
Quiet Nights
*
This I am, sitting by the
Moving train.
Here I am, next to aged
Metal tracks, listening to
The cuckoo of the flying
Train, the train that leaves
Behind grey smoke trails like
The rabbit leaves behind its trails
In the woodened forests.

It is suddenly a grey dark morning day
In midwinter, but now it is
A warm dark night leveeing the
Tracks with vibrating gravel
As the train flies in front of the
Eyes and I listen quietly to the choo-choo’s,
Tucked inside my bed sheets
Half a kilometer away.

Big round opened eyes gleam
Brightly in that absolute darkness,
Until the train lights **** it in.
And suddenly they are dark, and
The room is lighted through the
Large window and its transparent
Plastic curtain.
There I am, half a kilometer
Away, sitting by the immobile gravel
Looking at the rear metals
Of a moving train that leaves
Behind large puffs of intoxicating
Smoke that disintegrates into
Large clouds of fog fallen onto the
Mobile homes.


This makes no sense, I'm sure. Someday I'll have to edit it.
Thanks. =)
Sometimes I want to forget how to feel
I don want reality to b real
Douse noting sound so bad when this is the alternative
we fight for love, and die for it
im sorry if I've had enough of all of it
I don't want to love and lose
but you cant have one without the other
So I don't want any of it
what do we  do when our hearts are not in it
what is worse? Loving and leveeing
Or never loving and liveing a lie
Now all I want is to forget
all the feelings that run threw my head when I see you
My hearts not in the battle
my mind in the war
i cant help it when i fall to the floor
I became a pawn to be played as you pleased
I was so ignorant i couldn't see
why is my heart so hallow
So tell me dear now what do i do?
I don't want to feel i don't only want to miss you
That's the reason i want to forget  
That's why i hate reality when its real
Im sorry i have to cut this one short
I cant make it this time so im sorry
Don't be real oh pleas be a lie
I cut myself out not cut out for this life
Im no saint
but take this one like a bible verse
You have to listen even thou it hurts
Remember me Oh' pleas don't forget
feelings are real and reality's ****
I just sat by you
as you walked o threw
its like I no longer 'mean anything to you
what was I supposed to do
tell you that I love you
after you gn and kissed her
and left me al alone
I just want a moment to forget it
if I could
would  I go back?
No it feel's like the last
time I want to feel
this house is not my home
you levee me inside it all alone
You went and kissed her
now your angry that I'm leveeing
I just want to get away
it to late to say your sorry
because I feel like you never loved me
Now I'm a little sad but like always I'll hang on
More' n force gore
     and seven years ago
tha youngest daughter of
     Willian and Sylvia Zison
     found her beau
pea ping over a paperback
     (at present aye got nada clue
of the title), un been

     knownst to him, he would be do
wing lifetime penance as a husband
     and father, no longer
able to keep his head underground
     like an ostrich or emu
foisted into marriage
     when male adroit flagellated cell

     didst ova whelm, and subsequently flue
max, a panic prone
     pencil necked geek soon to learn goo
goo gaga, and brushing up
     on Horton Hears a Hoo
learning to swaddle

     airtight as an igloo
though a devout atheist gentile,
     he attests genealogical lineage
     linkedin many a Jew
but unfortunately only
     scant details this groom knew,
which sketchy family tree
     did include loo

knee, goofy, and crazy
     offshoots, (essentially deadwood
     pruning hooks never took down),
hence weak human DNA stock
     freely germinating cow
     wards less bright than
     cloven hoofed bovines moo

ching and sometimes
     tasting ****** Semitic brew,
especially espying bear naked lady
     even yours truly
     hollered yabba dabba doo
tasting verboten fruit
     predestined to sire daughters
     after enjoying despacito while playing flue

gull horn spitting
     spluttering semantic glue
whereby biological totally
     tubular fates loosed full bore
obligatory, yet paternal loving chore
foisting dada track detour
invoking fatherly delight
     as fate found me to explore

the joys and sorrows
     engaging das mister Harris
     chieftain, sans family of four
attending, diapering,
     and pampering galore
which necessary task
     aye could, nor would
     be able to ignore

from which pier rill us
     infant sea bay bee
     launched jarring
     insightful growing pains
     attendant 'pon requisite
     summery autotomy off spring ,
     when tears streamed
down cheeks as more

declarations of independence
     meant nudging flight while pour
ring heartfelt love shore
ring, and anchoring,
     viz Harris black strap -
     ma lasses survival skills,
     thence giving progeny Thor
row lee - wharf fare

     leveeing my best dammed
gluten and MSG free
     emotional bulwark whar
renting channeling con
     currently bolstering your
     preponderent swell alcove
harboring shipshape bon voyage.

— The End —