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Corruption! Corruption! Corruption! Where is corruption? Seems tone up statesmen notion Co-ordinate with gallantry pride exploration, Somewhere scholar's voice explosion Solicit grant for idle generation. Corruption! Corruption! Corruption! What is corruption? Working against the soul corruption, Earning money overdose corruption; Kissing beloved on road corruption Homosexuality in India corruption. Corruption! Corruption! Corruption! How to eliminate corruption? Agitation, law, dialect and compulsion. Could not minimize absolute tension. To eradicate this sensitive passion, Must regulate spiritual diversion.
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Corruption
They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder But sometimes I ask myself, how can this be? Cause when I look with my eyes, I only start to feel resent and I begin to despise, the things I realize like how my women of color have been simplified, and hypserxualized how the black woman's body has been used and abused and now It personifies, sexuality and promiscuity, out of all the things media feeds us these are some of the worst lies You see cause black women are queens, and when white culture saw their worth, they were rattled They couldn't help but try to minimize and de-legitimize, and put a guise over the eyes of all that viewed her She is not just a big *** big lips or hips She is the mother of humanity, in her essence from her hair, to lips to her fingertips she is a Queen, and she is to be respected. And I will die for her honor, We will not go back into slavery days, I will not stand here while she gets up on stage naked and her body is dissected, and her soul, her essence neglected, her heart, her mind infected. From these queens come the workers, the Kings, without the black woman we have no past and we have no future We must protect the black woman, for she is sacred like scripture.
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Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
The Black Woman
II feels like I have to gave my 100% to have the 50% of everybody. God was trying to make me realize something. It actually hit me like a train, I broke down in a puddle of tears. I'm not good enough. That's it. That's all. And now I have to live with it. How? I don't know. Like Hazel said it: I'm a grenade and at some point I'm going to blow up and I would like to minimize the casualties. That's what i'm gonna do.
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Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Not good enough
I like my body And I use it to express myself Which is legitimate and fine Because it is mine It belongs to me So when you, Who I trust Respect And confide in Condemn me for the choices that I make I feel like my walls are caving in Like there's not a mind left on this planet who understands, who loves, who cares If I can't come to you I am alone You abandoned me Made my skin feel cold Left me out Used my confessions to hurt me Abuse me Minimize me You made me feel stupid Small Incapable You mocked my self respect Tore it out from under me and distorted it Tried to convince me I didn't own it I never thought I'd find so much hate Hidden inside of someone I loved so deeply You have no idea the pain you've caused When you decided to tell me how to live As if I'm too ******* pathetic To know on my own You think you're better than me You think I should hate myself Well I don't But I do hate you
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
The Dangers of Slut-Shaming
There are many side effects of being ambitious, but having the desire and determination to succeed is not and will never be a bad thing. when you've encountered so many tribulations and you want something as desprestly as you want to breathe, you know that giving up has never been an option and will never be, but the most challenging thing is that most of these people only try to minimize our aspirations and what we wish to be. but I guess that's what we get when we're living in a city full of sorrow, deceit and unfulfilled dreams. And nobody wants to listen when we try to tell them,  but There's this  yearning inside of me that everyone is failing to see. and I have every intent of satisfying this hunger no matter how difficult it is to achieve. I guess a side effect of being ambitious is not knowing when enough is enough. I was taught that nothing good comes easily, We have to fight for what we want and most likely it'll be tough. but we were born fighters with purpose running through our veins zealously, causing us to be relentless when it comes to what we crave to be. now don't get me wrong I'll put on for my city KC, but it's not at all the place I aspire to be, and to put it simply I have to leave and I owe all of that to my ambitious personality. a side effect of being ambitious is having unnerving passion, making others feel threatened as they try to reconstruct our visions into ideas that they can understand. but just because they do it does not mean we have to give in. the ball is in your court, this is your life. take control. it wouldn't make sense to throw everything away to appease the mind of someone who has already lost their soul.   A side effect of being ambitious is having unwavering Faith. I just wish for you to never be discouraged, because ambition will forever and always be one of the most attractive traits.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Side Effects of Being Ambitious
There are many side effects of being ambitious, but having the desire and determination to succeed is not and will never be a bad thing. when you've encountered so many tribulations and you want something as desprestly as you want to breathe, you know that giving up has never been an option and will never be, but the most challenging thing is that most of these people only try to minimize our aspirations and what we wish to be. but I guess that's what we get when we're living in a city full of sorrow, deceit and unfulfilled dreams. And nobody wants to listen when we try to tell them,  but There's this  yearning inside of me that everyone is failing to see. and I have every intent of satisfying this hunger no matter how difficult it is to achieve. I guess a side effect of being ambitious is not knowing when enough is enough. I was taught that nothing good comes easily, We have to fight for what we want and most likely it'll be tough. but we were born fighters with purpose running through our veins zealously, causing us to be relentless when it comes to what we crave to be. now don't get me wrong I'll put on for my city KC, but it's not at all the place I aspire to be, and to put it simply I have to leave and I owe all of that to my ambitious personality. a side effect of being ambitious is having unnerving passion, making others feel threatened as they try to reconstruct our visions into ideas that they can understand. but just because they do it does not mean we have to give in. the ball is in your court, this is your life. take control. it wouldn't make sense to throw everything away to appease the mind of someone who has already lost their soul.   A side effect of being ambitious is having unwavering Faith. I just wish for you to never be discouraged, because ambition will forever and always be one of the most attractive traits.
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16
I sat by his bedside the day my father died. The cancer that had riddled his body and soul now had complete control. He fought kicking and screaming the night the men in white came to take him on his final journey like a great wildebeest struggling to get up on its front legs after being taken down by young lions. The way so many had said he probably would since he fought his way tooth & nail throughout his life from the very beginning. That night I sat on a chair at the foot of his bed staring out the huge ceiling to floor window of the medical centre at the many worlds hidden beneath thousands of rows of stationary lights and fluid winding rows of transient lights in-between and thought how the light of this window is just one of many thousands. At that moment it seemed more like just one tiny speck in the vast star fields worlds above this city of light. My father had spent most of his life just a short six-mile drive from here under the scattered lights of his hometown. He turned to me and asked, “That’s a big city. Where are we?" Dementia had claimed his mind ten or more years earlier. It slowly wound its way around his brain like a cocky snake handler being choked by a boa constrictor unawares. It seemed like it all caught up to his body. But it was good to see much of the bitterness and bad blood between us dissipated over the past decade. On that night compassion ruled the day. I could not say it then but it has been many years, where it seems compassion has forged with objectivity. In a lucid moment he looked around the hospital room bewildered as if he were a little boy who just woke up from a bad dream and asked, “How did this ever happen?" If only I could have told him. Sometimes the truth cannot be spoken or heard. All I could do then was sit by his bed and lean in close to his ear and sing softly his favourite hymns.  By morning his lifeless dilapidated body laid in the fetal position. His once ravenous mouth now forever frozen looked like a knothole in a twisted cedar tree. All I can do now is hang my head and think of how weak and frail we humans truly are. Like compassion forged with objectivity, weakness and frailty forges with fleeting moments of strength. We forge heroes out of these moments to tower above the pedestals the former is made of to somehow minimize the pain of this often denied truth.
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Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
The Day My Father Died
I sat by his bedside the day my father died. The cancer that had riddled his body and soul now had complete control. He fought kicking and screaming the night the men in white came to take him on his final journey like a great wildebeest struggling to get up on its front legs after being taken down by young lions. The way so many had said he probably would since he fought his way tooth & nail throughout his life from the very beginning. That night I sat on a chair at the foot of his bed staring out the huge ceiling to floor window of the medical centre at the many worlds hidden beneath thousands of rows of stationary lights and fluid winding rows of transient lights in-between and thought how the light of this window is just one of many thousands. At that moment it seemed more like just one tiny speck in the vast star fields worlds above this city of light. My father had spent most of his life just a short six-mile drive from here under the scattered lights of his hometown. He turned to me and asked, “That’s a big city. Where are we?" Dementia had claimed his mind ten or more years earlier. It slowly wound its way around his brain like a cocky snake handler being choked by a boa constrictor unawares. It seemed like it all caught up to his body. But it was good to see much of the bitterness and bad blood between us dissipated over the past decade. On that night compassion ruled the day. I could not say it then but it has been many years, where it seems compassion has forged with objectivity. In a lucid moment he looked around the hospital room bewildered as if he were a little boy who just woke up from a bad dream and asked, “How did this ever happen?" If only I could have told him. Sometimes the truth cannot be spoken or heard. All I could do then was sit by his bed and lean in close to his ear and sing softly his favourite hymns.  By morning his lifeless dilapidated body laid in the fetal position. His once ravenous mouth now forever frozen looked like a knothole in a twisted cedar tree. All I can do now is hang my head and think of how weak and frail we humans truly are. Like compassion forged with objectivity, weakness and frailty forges with fleeting moments of strength. We forge heroes out of these moments to tower above the pedestals the former is made of to somehow minimize the pain of this often denied truth.
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27
Prisoners of their own success Their world now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble A truck driver from Tupelo A pop band from the 'pool A superstar from Hoboken, And one...the King of Cool The superstar from Hoboken Became the Chairman of The Board If you made it into his 'rat pack' You knew you'd really scored His movies and his music Made him the world's number one But he had to minimize his world When someone stole his son His boy was kidnapped, truthfully Back in 1965 And through his contacts in the mob He got his son back home alive This is the price of fame folks Behind the glitter and the glam They've got to have their safety But the fans don't give a **** Prisoners of their own success Their world now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble The Memphis Mafia gave protection To The King of Rock and Roll But, by choice his world got smaller And he went into a hole He built a house in Memphis To protect him from his fans And thanks to Dr. Feelgood He died a lonely, broken man He couldn't live the life he earned He was a prisioner instead It's a shame he has more value Now that he is dead Prisoners of their own success Their world now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble He'd a partner and was cool He was suave and sang songs And he worked with a "fool" They conquered the nightclubs They were known near and far But his created alter ego Lived his life at the bar He ran with Frank Sinatra He was the King of Cool But when The Chairman started lessons Dean was right there in his school The Beatles broke in Hamburg But way back in sixty two Their bubble was just forming There was nothing they could do They lived their life behind the scenes For when they did go out The girls would all go crazy And the world would twist and shout Privacy came hard for them They went four separate ways These four young men from Liverpool LIved life inside a maze. It's sad that adulation takes their freedom, makes them hide But they're safer locked away from us They're safer locked inside Prisoners of their own success Their world's  now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble
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May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
Prisoners
Prisoners of their own success Their world now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble A truck driver from Tupelo A pop band from the 'pool A superstar from Hoboken, And one...the King of Cool The superstar from Hoboken Became the Chairman of The Board If you made it into his 'rat pack' You knew you'd really scored His movies and his music Made him the world's number one But he had to minimize his world When someone stole his son His boy was kidnapped, truthfully Back in 1965 And through his contacts in the mob He got his son back home alive This is the price of fame folks Behind the glitter and the glam They've got to have their safety But the fans don't give a **** Prisoners of their own success Their world now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble The Memphis Mafia gave protection To The King of Rock and Roll But, by choice his world got smaller And he went into a hole He built a house in Memphis To protect him from his fans And thanks to Dr. Feelgood He died a lonely, broken man He couldn't live the life he earned He was a prisioner instead It's a shame he has more value Now that he is dead Prisoners of their own success Their world now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble He'd a partner and was cool He was suave and sang songs And he worked with a "fool" They conquered the nightclubs They were known near and far But his created alter ego Lived his life at the bar He ran with Frank Sinatra He was the King of Cool But when The Chairman started lessons Dean was right there in his school The Beatles broke in Hamburg But way back in sixty two Their bubble was just forming There was nothing they could do They lived their life behind the scenes For when they did go out The girls would all go crazy And the world would twist and shout Privacy came hard for them They went four separate ways These four young men from Liverpool LIved life inside a maze. It's sad that adulation takes their freedom, makes them hide But they're safer locked away from us They're safer locked inside Prisoners of their own success Their world's  now micro-sized Fan adulation to excess Their love is just disguised Their objects of affection Live their lives inside a bubble Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed Could bring them worlds of trouble
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91
Ask yourself this: who is deserving of your love? Is it your mom's boyfriend? The one who has to creep around, and tighten his grip around your throat to minimize your screams. Is it the guy with tattoos you see around the neighbourhood? You've heard he's been with other girls, but maybe you could change him. Maybe you could give him a taste of his own medicine, and he'd fall in love with you with a snap of your fingers. Is it the nerdy boy who sits in the third throw? Sure, his shyness overtakes him, but he's sweet. Isn't that what a guy should be? Or is it... her. Who? Me? Yes you! With the crystal eyes, and heart of gold! Aren't you deserving of your own love? I see you shake your head, and I sigh in disappointment. So, what exactly was your plan? To put all your love into someone you didn't even know? You shrug. Oh, so you must suppose that the only person who doesn't deserve love is yourself.
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
Deserving
Feed it with a smile Early morning blossom fresh walk Pause and wait for while You miss something? Yes, you miss yourself being happy all by your own. Take a deep breath Jump into the ocean of loving oneself Make more art Immerge into books nourish your soul Read through the struggles of people Finding you ashore You are not alone. Find yourself free Minimize what you don't need And fill it up with what you need. Abandon the turmoil of heart and mind Life is too short to be caged inside Speak up and do what you need to do. Cry, smile and laugh out loud. Make sure you take 'You' with you everywhere.
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 3:16 AM UTC
Feed your Soul
The weak inherit the Earth The meek inherit their lead Unaware of their life's worth Until after they're dead We are hopelessly trampled by a bullet stampede Inflicted upon us for the wealthy man's greed They sell us death as a commodity While we can only mourn solemnly They are arms dealers We are harm feelers They are life stealers When we can't find healers For the fatal wounds that end our lives so abruptly And the man with the gun has no need to trust me He has placed his faith in Ares His humanity he failed to carry He sold it urgently to feel secure But then his thoughts became impure For whatever reason he cast a death sentence He felt injustice and wanted to get vengeance But to the merchants of wrath He is just math Numbers on a graph They must minimize With blatant lies Businessmen will try to create a need for their product But engendering fear for profit seems like misconduct Because as the bullets are raining And the militants are training Their money is stacking While terrorists are attacking Their nature seems callous When they rely on our malice They see us as a body count They see us as simple trout Swimming upstream to die So they can eat us Convincing us we'll fly With minds of a fetus The bullet burns as it punctures our civilization It fuels our bitter spiteful incubation We sit in the chamber As they utilize our anger The rich get richer We don't see the picture When gunshots scatter crowds And the echoes scatter our thoughts They want the volume to be loud So we'll forget what we're taught That our lives are the price of a gun and a bullet Our paranoid lives become hard to live to the fullest
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Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC
Gun
The weak inherit the Earth The meek inherit their lead Unaware of their life's worth Until after they're dead We are hopelessly trampled by a bullet stampede Inflicted upon us for the wealthy man's greed They sell us death as a commodity While we can only mourn solemnly They are arms dealers We are harm feelers They are life stealers When we can't find healers For the fatal wounds that end our lives so abruptly And the man with the gun has no need to trust me He has placed his faith in Ares His humanity he failed to carry He sold it urgently to feel secure But then his thoughts became impure For whatever reason he cast a death sentence He felt injustice and wanted to get vengeance But to the merchants of wrath He is just math Numbers on a graph They must minimize With blatant lies Businessmen will try to create a need for their product But engendering fear for profit seems like misconduct Because as the bullets are raining And the militants are training Their money is stacking While terrorists are attacking Their nature seems callous When they rely on our malice They see us as a body count They see us as simple trout Swimming upstream to die So they can eat us Convincing us we'll fly With minds of a fetus The bullet burns as it punctures our civilization It fuels our bitter spiteful incubation We sit in the chamber As they utilize our anger The rich get richer We don't see the picture When gunshots scatter crowds And the echoes scatter our thoughts They want the volume to be loud So we'll forget what we're taught That our lives are the price of a gun and a bullet Our paranoid lives become hard to live to the fullest
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51
We are forward open thinkers we dream of a new without forgetting what was With peculiarities spawned eccentricity to keep us ourselves as one, like no one Without urge to be separate we are oneself together, we stand alone Side stepped and vertically diagonal with grace, not trials in stride From the waking moment routine each day changes course with similarities while optional barriers are welcome to overcome with effort And using that effort to affect wisdoms spread and elongate strength We work for our capacity, at home we also work, to make a better day To create, To expand to not keep motionless our minds our hands our brains in bloom. And think and hold this knowledge tight at one point it will open the mind of our young, to lose self and to give. To always give. Minimize me, I, or mine. Talk through with question, regardless of proof, or wrongfulness. And wonder about laws and why? We think. We know. To traverse with love In between and the seconds linking, we desire The ones we are near, can feel without doubt and never wonder if love was emitted. We will communicate frequently how they make us whole and have affected us to completion and reraise when obstacles come towards With complex strength and wage forward, insist the double down Using knowledge, work, perseverance, and to bring it all home To positively conquer ...using love.
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Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
Growth in Radiance
I can't see you. I can't protect you. Burning in your curiosity. Huffing another smoke, unrelenting. You don't understand the dream sugar. What you want, is something important. Something covered in whipped cream and bbq sauce. Exactly, me. Or not. You see, I'm just a voice in my head. Burning brownies baked with bread. You don't like brownies and bread? Well go to hell. They're my brownies. Mine, something you can't claim because you have nothing. No one, No idea and no value to anything. You value your brain and **** it for not being enough. Poison your body for not being able to take the strain of life. Burn your cigarette to take away the pain of being alone. Striking your soul, praying you never have to atone. Cologne rhymes with alone you know. Funny coincidence right? Brain power. Stained flower. Hope and happiness. Dope and sadness. Perception. Deception. Search for Purpose. Not whats on the Surface. Oh my elusive friend, trying to take the pain away. The point of life is not to avoid but to minimize. Like the Japanese! A child looks for purpose. An adult works towards it.
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
Covered in blood
For William and Meredith For treatment of panic and anxiety disorders, short-acting anxiolytics are generally recommended to provide temporary bursts of clarity but should be reassessed periodically for usefulness and concerns regarding tolerance, dependence, and abuse. Xanax releases dopamine into the brain to function as a neurotransmitter to send signals between nerve cells including reward motivated behavior and pathways known to reinforce addictive neuronal activity Perhaps to build her, you had to break yourself amongst the glass of that summer day. Leave her waiting for your hair to peek around a weathered edge toward a forgotten living room corner You are still her Patron Saint. A long shadow cast across a small ghost. She still screams at the sky to stop raining beats her fists down the path to the house of death unceasing, and changeless. Prodding a dull, familiar wound. One that leaves its mark, with pain felt more from memory than from anything else. Withdrawal and rebound symptoms commonly occur and necessitate a gradual reduction to minimize the effects of discontinuation. Not all withdrawal effects are evidence of true dependence or withdrawal. Recurrence may suggest no more than the drug having the expected effect and that, in the absence of the drug, the symptom has returned to pretreatment levels.
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
Alprazolam
Forgiving heart, precious gift from our father God Image of the lord, can you be like your father God Image of the lord, forgiving one another is your health in this world. Painful heart, source of devil words, what a cruel world. Please, please, learn to forgive and stay away from the devil. I tend to think long and snoring nights are caused by this devil. Are you a brethren or a church goer where is your forgiving heart? Are you a child of God or child of the devil where is your forgiving heart? Many people give a smile with a lot of grudges. What a beautiful church with a lot of church goers? Truth and forgiving one another is something of the past. Please teacher, evangelist, nurse teach them about grudges. Man of God, can you pray for grudges to minimize church goers? Why truth and forgiving one another is something of the past? -Written By: The Senior
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Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
Forgiving Heart II
They weighed me again today freaking scared of my weight heard them talk of controlling my diet will minimize my food intake will also get a vet to give me some pills Oh everyone chill.. chill... I am not fat,I am just a little cute I am not obese, just a little heavy I am just a little tired, feeling dizzy of this obesity story Excuse me... May I get some rest and sleep? I promise I will jump more instead of lazying around on mom's sofa... I promise I will not be potato couch avoid my favourite TV shows and stop munching more Chipsmore I promise I promise I'd be your cutest cuddly Harry... forever! ~ Sharina~
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:24 AM UTC
OBESE
I'm aware of what I'm falling into but no it won't minimize the impact. I understand you're the type that needs constant attention but I don't see myself having that much time. I believed that slowly you made me fall because after some time I found myself quite happy. I realize I loved you because I know I would walk through hell just to see you smile. I promised myself I wouldn't get hurt because you were the type to love, leave and break. I stopped myself from smiling like an idiot when you hugged me and kissed my hair. I trusted you with my dearest secrets and no, you did not let me down. I dearly loved the smallest things you do, your smile, your laugh and your personality too. I remember that day you bought me Oreos was the same day I stopped guarding my heart. My happiness, my life my other half, if you ever break me, at least make it last. Because truly the only person I want to hurt me is you. W.H.Y~
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Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
Dear Romeo,
Hiding. She's Trying. I keep her Confined. Sleeping. She's Weeping. She screams out her Cries. Falling. She's Calling. There's pain in her Eyes. Dormant. She's Latent. She feels Paralyzed. Shifting. She's Drifting. But I keep her Inside. Uneasy. She's Queasy. Yet I Minimize. Refracted. She's Lasted. She cant be Denied. Bleeding. She's Seeking. To be Recognized. Unwitting. I'm Splitting. I say my Goodbyes. Heating. It's Fleeting. My old peace of Mind. Conquered. I'm Anchored. I'm treading Neck-high. Drowning. Heart Pounding. My sight going Blind. Vehement. Not Present. I am losing my Pride. Engaging. I'm Raging. She's loud from Inside. Neurotic. I'm seasick. From pain left Behind. Messy. We're Heavy. There's blood on our Lies. Damage. I Manage. This fall from up High. Numbness. Crave Oneness. This banal state, Mine. Transgressing. Keep shedding. And I'll find her Smile. Uplifting. Deep Thinking. I tame what is Wild.            Releasing and healing                      My own inner-child.        ☼ Mica Light
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Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 6:32 PM UTC
Tame
The secrets of Art are esoteric in favor of those who suffer. Sorry, that's just how it seems to be. If you want to be an Artist, that is, a prism of the Other, know that in one way or another you condemn yourself to Pain and the beautification thereof. That isn't a bad thing at all, though; we need to have more alchemy of pain into pleasure- Life is Pain and Pain begets Art; what if, then, Life is an Art? I'd sure argue it is in one way or another. Living with a Mind is an Art and a Science- could this be an element of why living is so afflicted by suffering? Whatever the case, take heed; seek to grow from your Pain and not to completely avoid it; do not shut it away, for that feeds thy Shadow and undermines what control of it you may yet have. Pain is usually an illusion but it serves a purpose; t'is a strict teacher, a cruel mistress- It can open many doors and bridge many gaps between this world and many others. All the while, seek to minimize the pain of others and to do no harm to any living being, yet, allow them to experience what they do, for it serves a purpose if only they know how to find it. This falls among the aspects of the Art of Life; so many have been forgotten. Seek to remember what once was known.
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Pain as a Teacher of the Esoteric
Them: "You don't look Autistic." "Wow, you must be really high functioning!" "My friend has kids with Autism, and you don't behave anything like them." Me: "Thanks, The years of bullying and abuse really paid off. I finally learned never to display my vulnerabilites. I learnt that others would be ashamed or uncomfortable of my differences, Try to take advantage of my disability. I suppose I should thank all those who thought it sport to hurt me, I now internalize, minimize, conceal Every difficulty. I have been taught to sacrifice my own health and well being For the sake of others ' needs to remain oblivious and prejudiced. Thank you for reminding me that All that hardwork and pain was worth it for you, Who can operate in this public space Unburdened by my challenges, Oblivious to my suffering. As a child, My skills were less finely honed. I had not yet developed the craft of invisibility. One might have guessed me Autistic, But the assumption was more often Some combination of naughty and lazy. Don't pretend to have sympathy for Autistic children when a comment Clearly shows it wasn't there. Let's be clear, too. High function means highly camouflaged, Easily forgotten, Lost under the cruelty of others. It does not mean low difficulty."
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC
You Don't Look Autistic
If you tell gold it's worthless, It might believe you. But does saying that Make it true? Is worth defined By what's verbalized? If you criticize Does worth minimize? Words are words, Not always true. But gold is gold! And you are you. Don't weigh your worth On what you're told. Despite it's value Even some dislike gold.
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Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
It Might Believe You
*Roses are red violets are blue last time we talked I forgot to mention I love you I love your simplistic imperfections The way our brains make simple connections Looking into both of our kind hearted eyes Wishing we can minimize the pain we both feel inside When we're put together You and I love each other forever and more Our hearts range deep Starting from the vibrant colors of our hearts core One day I'll say I love you as I look into the beauty of your green eyes Touching the softness of your hair And the calmness of your skin I'll tell you I adore the bravery of the fight you have within And The warmth of your... I'll pause and say where do I begin And as the wind blows ill smile Into your eyes As the loveliness of yourself smiles back I'll say I love you And I hope your okay with that*
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Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
The Color Of The Roses
There is dirt mixed with blood Underneath our fingernails Our life is mixed with mud While we fight and flail The struggle is for my agency Otherwise I feel they're ****** me I feel they are replacing me With an imposition of their will Love as vast as the sea Wouldn't get them their fill Their emotions they **** For a ****** thrill That could be achieved by a pill But instead they use power For they understand in this hour There is a mentality Of fatality Where we minimize our enemies to their negative desires So we can build with our allies oppressive empires Until the whole world is on fire And these rapists can do as they please When it's systemic they do it with ease In a world without trust They are the beneficiaries They care only for lust With actions incendiary Burning the forest they hide in Where our secrets provide their shade Because overwhelming suspicion pervades The image of all strangers We see only danger And our judgement is skewed When everybody is considered a ****** Yet there are only a few There is a moment When I make a ****** decision I am not sure what the recipient's reaction will be There are two negative extremes to this situation: 1. I will **** them 2. They will falsely accuse me of **** Our ****** lives are navigating these issues of trust Between those extremes But when our definition of **** Starts to define the victim's comfort As more important than the violator's intent We show an unwillingness to understand and a bias Which would give anyone reason to not trust someone And the ****** atmosphere becomes one of uncertainty People get into relationships so they don't have to worry about it But bachelors must consider these things **** victims must too As well as the man sitting in prison for fraudulent claims One has been illegally ***** The other has been ***** legally I'd imagine both might see a world of rapists afterwards Yet there are only a few
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:37 AM UTC
Trust
There is dirt mixed with blood Underneath our fingernails Our life is mixed with mud While we fight and flail The struggle is for my agency Otherwise I feel they're ****** me I feel they are replacing me With an imposition of their will Love as vast as the sea Wouldn't get them their fill Their emotions they **** For a ****** thrill That could be achieved by a pill But instead they use power For they understand in this hour There is a mentality Of fatality Where we minimize our enemies to their negative desires So we can build with our allies oppressive empires Until the whole world is on fire And these rapists can do as they please When it's systemic they do it with ease In a world without trust They are the beneficiaries They care only for lust With actions incendiary Burning the forest they hide in Where our secrets provide their shade Because overwhelming suspicion pervades The image of all strangers We see only danger And our judgement is skewed When everybody is considered a ****** Yet there are only a few There is a moment When I make a ****** decision I am not sure what the recipient's reaction will be There are two negative extremes to this situation: 1. I will **** them 2. They will falsely accuse me of **** Our ****** lives are navigating these issues of trust Between those extremes But when our definition of **** Starts to define the victim's comfort As more important than the violator's intent We show an unwillingness to understand and a bias Which would give anyone reason to not trust someone And the ****** atmosphere becomes one of uncertainty People get into relationships so they don't have to worry about it But bachelors must consider these things **** victims must too As well as the man sitting in prison for fraudulent claims One has been illegally ***** The other has been ***** legally I'd imagine both might see a world of rapists afterwards Yet there are only a few
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It will haunt her the favorite pencil tip softened just so... paw pushed it somewhere to a secret spot out of vision, her reach a peice of paper elusive yet there... lodged deep amidst a stack of most important things She does not lose well... Not in terms of games or competition but the things in her life that envelop her world tough n' scrappy beautiful n' tender holding all things dear close to her heart Loss is a place of  deepest contemplation Her memories are vibrant, alive She does not lose well creatures and people that are immersed in her life even one pulled out leaves like a building block A tear A gap A hole in her life She does not forget or minimize the pertinance of freindship love A moment that has touched her heart When it is time for the loss the breaking of her heart can be felt through time space The moment becomes filled With rainbows of light She will bathe in that beam... helps guide them home She trusts in the divine finding there solice amidst the flutterings of her tender, broken heart Grief shrouds her A mystical veil that holds her dearly as the pain becomes bearable she will begin to tell her stories once again ~ Christi Michaels ~ June 2014~
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Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
she does not lose well