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"precautionary" poems
He came from a land unrefined; Encompassed by violence, poverty yet possesses clarity of mind. A mind built from Hardwork and Determination, A soul inspired by Intrepidation Freedom, Release and an infectious sense of inner Peace. They met in a state of flux, Going, coming, nothing left but to give it up, So heart broken, she took his hand, The adventure began on water but would end on land, Meadows, Beaches, Visions left them speechless. She saw a flash, a light; Precautionary measures tested the capacity of his might. Slow Down! She'd lost sight. Tried to keep up but her heart said "Flight"! Escape! Hide from the cruelty clawing from the inside. Time was chasing, they had to keep up, He left as she collapsed into the mouth of a half empty cup. She gobbled up the cup with no thought of tomorrow. "He is strong, he'll be fine," focus deflected from sorrow. Regret, Remorse, shall Fate be trusted to run it's course? Smiles and Mischief were all that could remain, She slowly began to learn to becloud fruitless pain, She's walked away from tough stains, In memory of his arms where enthusiasm never wanes. Growing, longer, when he returns she shall be stronger. If Fate knows Love and Love is true, Fate shall be entrusted to do what it do, But Fate can be twisted, Fate can be cruel And the little girl knew the twisted Power of Fate's Rule
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Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:37 AM UTC
Him and the Little Girl
All along I've been waiting for a fire that can melt my frozen heart It’s been so cold keeping a heart that frosted by pain; Because of your smile it beats again like a new day after a dark winter storm Your blazing thoughts melt my icy ****** world You’re a saint of fire that warmth my freezing emotions; Like a rainbow after the rain and for what I learned If you want to admire a rainbow after the rain, you should try to love again after the pain' The pain that I secretly hiding is now fading, and the thoughts that I reserved now I know for whom it leads This night the sky is dark and I see a million of stars just pass by my sight Is it a coincidence or a sign that I ‘am starting to fall?; Just like a falling star from a dark night sky Some people say “out of sight out of mind” but I think that is completely wrong; ‘Coz I don’t see you but you’re the only thing in my mind I know I can get attracted to anybody but falling in-love is a different story; So I think this night I ‘am slowly, softly, precautionary falling in-love After the countless debates and arguments with myself I came to that conclusion; And there is nothing I can do about it… I never asked for this to happen…nor did I think it could…but I think it just did; But no matter what, I know this is just another dream And no matter how beautiful your dreams are, you always have to wake up.
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Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 9:52 AM UTC
Melting Frozen Heart
In a tiny allotment right next to the zoo A miniature jungle was planted and grew The flora was dense and the air became hot But confined to a tidy rectangular plot An unthinkable duo of creatures converged And it's said that a spanking new species emerged For a curious beast was reportedly seen Roaming and munching on anything green Make haste! Away! It's the Buffagorilla! A shredder of lettuce and cereal killer With hooves at the front and hands at the rear The Buffagorilla is near! It shambles about at the darkest of hours On hedges it crunches and bunches of flowers On daffolil bulbs and petunia petals With hearty aplomb on a cluster of nettles Covertly perusing with maximum hush It can wander through gardens disguised as a bush No carrot or parsnip is safe in its bed And the marrows are quaking in vegetable dread Depart! Retreat! It's the Buffagorilla! The broccoli butcher and vegetable killer With ape like features and horns of a steer The Buffagorilla is near! So if you hear a mention of butternut theft Or notice a garden, all bare and bereft Insure your potatoes for damage and loss Give the salad a purely precautionary toss For a creature is roaming the byway and track With its legs at the front and its arms at the back And it might be your gooseberries or chervil he spies So I beg you take heed as I once more advise Be gone! Take flight! It's the Buffagorilla! The strawberry napper and cucumber killer Just hide in your cellar and steer well clear The Buffagorilla is near!
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
The Buffagorilla
In a tiny allotment right next to the zoo A miniature jungle was planted and grew The flora was dense and the air became hot But confined to a tidy rectangular plot An unthinkable duo of creatures converged And it's said that a spanking new species emerged For a curious beast was reportedly seen Roaming and munching on anything green Make haste! Away! It's the Buffagorilla! A shredder of lettuce and cereal killer With hooves at the front and hands at the rear The Buffagorilla is near! It shambles about at the darkest of hours On hedges it crunches and bunches of flowers On daffolil bulbs and petunia petals With hearty aplomb on a cluster of nettles Covertly perusing with maximum hush It can wander through gardens disguised as a bush No carrot or parsnip is safe in its bed And the marrows are quaking in vegetable dread Depart! Retreat! It's the Buffagorilla! The broccoli butcher and vegetable killer With ape like features and horns of a steer The Buffagorilla is near! So if you hear a mention of butternut theft Or notice a garden, all bare and bereft Insure your potatoes for damage and loss Give the salad a purely precautionary toss For a creature is roaming the byway and track With its legs at the front and its arms at the back And it might be your gooseberries or chervil he spies So I beg you take heed as I once more advise Be gone! Take flight! It's the Buffagorilla! The strawberry napper and cucumber killer Just hide in your cellar and steer well clear The Buffagorilla is near!
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Two years forward, Life continues to move on. I take steps to avoid, Going back to the hell I once put myself in. I remember telling you, "Please forgive me if I forget you right now." I took a precautionary measure, To save me from demise. I was so fragile back then. Any memory of you, Made me feel like I, I was the cause of your death. I blamed myself for every little thing. I wasn't there when I should've been. ...When I was mourning your loss, They told me to stop being hard on myself. "You did nothing wrong.", they would assure me. In a way, they were right. However, I can't stop but think, That the smallest gestures Would have made an impact, And you'd be here tonight. Maybe you would be alive to this day. But reality sank in. I realized... There was nothing I could do, To save your life. Moving on seemed like the only option. As hard as it was to admit, I had to let go. There was no way I could bring you back into this world. I had to face tomorrow like it was another day... Another day has gone by without seeing you smile, Another day has gone without hearing your voice. Another day has gone by, and I had no choice but to move on without you by my side.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Tomorrow
All I have are splinters of memory Lodged in my mind My father was a wanderer in the halls of my heart I can remember being small enough to hug his waist His long jet black hair draped over me like a dead tree Dormant and stuck It wasn't your fault The world forced you to grow up Your life was a precautionary tale A map of edges and fault lines to avoid You walked down all the dark paths to high light the night Choke holding the demons so I could escape There are times where I see that I've inherited your anger and pride It wasn't your fault You didn't bring in the tide The void of your absence is too heavy to frame So I dumped it in your casket Buried alive
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
SEA OF WIDOWS
Your tears are like champagne; They cost more than you like to admit in polite company And they're saved for the most special of occasions. Every drop is to commemorate a monumentous event (even if the event isn't immediately obvious to the rest of us). When we were together I never got closer than hearing the bubbles fizz below the surface. When we broke up you popped the cork and showered everything in sight with alcoholic nothingness. My tears are like, well, water; Not in that you need them to survive But in that they are inescapable. My fragility (or childishness) is evident in leaking taps And dripping branches And 80% of my biological make up. When we were together you drank nothing but saltwater sadness. shame, joy, surprise, every emotion warranted another glass of water. When we broke up my tear ducts popped like two water balloons and nobody was surprised, they had already opened their umbrellas and taken a precautionary step back. If they had stood a little closer, opened their mouths a little wider, they might have caught the fleeting taste of bitter wine and the closest I have ever come to crying champagne tears.
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Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
I've Never Tasted Champagne and You're Drowning
It was Saturday, And you said God was with us. So, we drove as fast as possible- Into blistering orange and purple, Into the death of the sun. Because we knew he was, just as well as wasn’t. There was sweat on your chest, And on mine two black handprints of mud. You called me your Apache warrior. I made fierce stabs at sol, spears tipped with glass. I did not **** the fire, only scared him away for a cycle. In ecstasy you asked if I’d like some- Fearful to step past my father’s drugs I shrugged you a no. Sold you the same line from dreams before. I don’t like being in heaven and hell at the same time. To which you replied with hollow eyes to hell with heaven. And together we cried ponds in the parking lot of Wal-Mart. Beseeching the dams not hold, Hoping we could wash it all clean. It was Sunday, And you said that god was dead- We danced in the street, maniacs, Exposed flesh and drumming war cries. Busted open the fire hydrant and nursed, Hysterical for love and peaceful tomorrows, Crusaders of regrettable intentions. And then your mother called and you had to run off to church. During this fifth year you were enlightened. Many people feel that upon reading a book or two. Labeled me wrong, you of course playing the protagonist - I didn’t see it that way. I wasn’t keeping any type of score. Still bear chested, scowling at king sun, Howling to mother moon, dressed in pale luminous silk, Knowing she would never howl back. With duly noted precautionary tales in mind I set forth- To coastal plains lush with life, Trees hiding the cityscape. Stars sending light at a glacial pace, Eroding corneal muck. You had left three sheets to the wind, And I was inside my own mind without. Skies bled crimson heat, Leached from me that passion that once held steadfast And it was pleasant at best. But, I am no martyr. Revitalized in my own indulgences, Slept till Saturday when you returned- The world making right again.
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Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
"Howling to Mother Moon"
It was Saturday, And you said God was with us. So, we drove as fast as possible- Into blistering orange and purple, Into the death of the sun. Because we knew he was, just as well as wasn’t. There was sweat on your chest, And on mine two black handprints of mud. You called me your Apache warrior. I made fierce stabs at sol, spears tipped with glass. I did not **** the fire, only scared him away for a cycle. In ecstasy you asked if I’d like some- Fearful to step past my father’s drugs I shrugged you a no. Sold you the same line from dreams before. I don’t like being in heaven and hell at the same time. To which you replied with hollow eyes to hell with heaven. And together we cried ponds in the parking lot of Wal-Mart. Beseeching the dams not hold, Hoping we could wash it all clean. It was Sunday, And you said that god was dead- We danced in the street, maniacs, Exposed flesh and drumming war cries. Busted open the fire hydrant and nursed, Hysterical for love and peaceful tomorrows, Crusaders of regrettable intentions. And then your mother called and you had to run off to church. During this fifth year you were enlightened. Many people feel that upon reading a book or two. Labeled me wrong, you of course playing the protagonist - I didn’t see it that way. I wasn’t keeping any type of score. Still bear chested, scowling at king sun, Howling to mother moon, dressed in pale luminous silk, Knowing she would never howl back. With duly noted precautionary tales in mind I set forth- To coastal plains lush with life, Trees hiding the cityscape. Stars sending light at a glacial pace, Eroding corneal muck. You had left three sheets to the wind, And I was inside my own mind without. Skies bled crimson heat, Leached from me that passion that once held steadfast And it was pleasant at best. But, I am no martyr. Revitalized in my own indulgences, Slept till Saturday when you returned- The world making right again.
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Label the worldly desires merely a necessity Live the purpose, just float above this sin city Sparks of the coils attract into their electricity Here lies all sadness, it's nothing a felicity Forces the other coils into mutual inductance Draws closer if not expressed reluctance Easy is to fall down when the body's dense Dodge hazardous wires and move, hence Consume the meat of their fashion raw Sharpen the focus, copy their fierce claw Effective becomes spreading embodying the law Judge not others, first clear up your flaw Scrape the soul into a clothing translucent Devilish whispers dissolved by 70 percent Introduce oxygen and begin your ascent Fumes off such reactions diffuse a smell pleasant Preserves the body, such that as formaldehyde When the soulless is buried, just to hide Acts out instructions in his four day ride Or at least for the acceptance once had tried Faith feeds through placenta of the heart Birth, a destined process, transformation a start!
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Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 5:24 AM UTC
'Precautionary Whispers'
It's too hot to sleep, or, rather, the apricot garden looming in the darkness of the kitchen, and my thoughts conspire, to keep at least the back of my sieve-shutter headwork alive and stealing electrons, from the still air; that maze that fails to circulate, regardless of how wide the window has been torn apart. She leaves seashell footprints down my spine, the sea shore of my wanting more to this life than idle standby, the will to stand up and not feel the blood drain to my smaller toes, and I am losing consciousness to the sound of agapanther print curtains only to find it, in full gain or minor refrain, pulling hemispheric or lobelike conditions up and out and out and out for hours on end. So, god save me or forsake me, for I fall far too easily, into grey-backlit memory, tasting some sickly scent of smoke and secondhand perfume through my hair until morning, when I will get up, wash that old life of wants or hope away, move promptly and, without warning, start fresh with another disaster- Like the day before last. Like each day, scattered through our respective futures or pasts. Like the life I once wanted, and have now come to hide from. Those bits that just keep slippin' away.
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Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 5:12 AM UTC
Precautionary Measures
I once asked him what it was like-- when making love made sense when it left you in a glow and not like it had me, in coils of skin and apple scented oil sobbing on a mattress in Chelan-- I can't help but ask as a precautionary measure, I'm sure, the way people ask was it good for you too? did it mean anything? were you making love or having *** he says that's what breakups are. Not talking, letting go. forging a bridge and then leaving it to decay, I'll just become bitter with that long sideways glance I've stopped memorizing his face because it's been sad for a month, i asked myself if i traded a friendship for a kiss at a cabin and i wonder if he feels the same because he let me in before the promise of my body and the sight of me as a friend is too much to handle.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
3am.
A tremble begins to settle on seething skin She is a maker of parasitical kin It does not consume like a dancing fire But it amplifies with a vision of curdling desire Just like a mother, it grows like a molding seed A miracle of the asexual spirit in a world of greed Abrupt in nature, beloved by its own flesh and blood It left an intangible mark inscribed on her soul in disguise of a hunch A precautionary tale serves a special prevention of the ugly occurrence What a marvelous delight it becomes when it reverts as a guide, full of opulence But not in a sense of monetary value, rather a calculated demise How does one understand a raw creation of wrath? What will she become after venturing the thorny path? Does an inquiry halts her progress in activating fury? Is there an object of her ire that requires a narrative of her mutiny? Why does the poison never spread like death in a rush? Can she possibly raise an army to march with an uncontrollable urge of violence? When will she endure the thinning of her lips to match the peace of a deafening silence? Is there a warning to keep herself intact for the coming apocalyptic days? Will it save the dormant history of her being through enactment of saving face? The question remains unanswered, but the fulfillment of the instrumental vengeance shall prevail The inappropriate conception is almost complete to its term A note emerges from an acidic confinement for the preparation of a womanly stern This clump of a girl is not a shameful creation for the sake of tragedy If anything, the child's fulfilling rage will cleanse her ancestors as a token of remedy There is no reminder of a continuing paternity names on her birth No need for prophetic visions as she strikes down the Earth An abundant offerings on her behalf shall never satisfy her As the melting iron starts to sizzle the plumper skin, the blinding nostalgia of rage tastes better She has no patience for warnings to initiate an appropriate plan The hour of her sustainable war has begun
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Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 11:59 AM UTC
Beware, Ragemakers
A tremble begins to settle on seething skin She is a maker of parasitical kin It does not consume like a dancing fire But it amplifies with a vision of curdling desire Just like a mother, it grows like a molding seed A miracle of the asexual spirit in a world of greed Abrupt in nature, beloved by its own flesh and blood It left an intangible mark inscribed on her soul in disguise of a hunch A precautionary tale serves a special prevention of the ugly occurrence What a marvelous delight it becomes when it reverts as a guide, full of opulence But not in a sense of monetary value, rather a calculated demise How does one understand a raw creation of wrath? What will she become after venturing the thorny path? Does an inquiry halts her progress in activating fury? Is there an object of her ire that requires a narrative of her mutiny? Why does the poison never spread like death in a rush? Can she possibly raise an army to march with an uncontrollable urge of violence? When will she endure the thinning of her lips to match the peace of a deafening silence? Is there a warning to keep herself intact for the coming apocalyptic days? Will it save the dormant history of her being through enactment of saving face? The question remains unanswered, but the fulfillment of the instrumental vengeance shall prevail The inappropriate conception is almost complete to its term A note emerges from an acidic confinement for the preparation of a womanly stern This clump of a girl is not a shameful creation for the sake of tragedy If anything, the child's fulfilling rage will cleanse her ancestors as a token of remedy There is no reminder of a continuing paternity names on her birth No need for prophetic visions as she strikes down the Earth An abundant offerings on her behalf shall never satisfy her As the melting iron starts to sizzle the plumper skin, the blinding nostalgia of rage tastes better She has no patience for warnings to initiate an appropriate plan The hour of her sustainable war has begun
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You say it best when you're sleeping- your fingers gently grazing down my thigh to find a hand that’s not your own- I wish that it were so, so easy to abide- by the precautionary smirks of simple lies.
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Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 7:53 PM UTC
You say it best when you're sleeping
Synchronic simple step be yonder, yo, go, no go, si, go on and on and on … so yust so yust to be we once went we split, full moiety, each ac- act- act-ion -jello-timed- lobes blobs plasmoieted mind parabolic, by yah, Arching fly call it, I got it, call his name, yah who done did done GOT caught the funny parts. Read the books. Now. At this point, cognitive native child formed in my mortal moment per-ifery-wasery rules secret se- per seance sacred made knowledge, state of knowing entered, left ab-rupturously, grief, lief left easy, re lief, sigh good grief. We were all we- are Charlie Brown, forever interrupted, as if once, however long ago, we knew we were one thing, then we knew we were merely words between things you knew and did not do. and you know you imagined this is that. The novel experience, this side. Post-done and paid off. Precautionary. Click. Why not, who is asking, hangs, as pregnant pause über Þe olde excessive easing hook, who are we, and what are we doing, we who were to survive receiving asked knowledge, the easy-does-it tree, shows us the easy way, this way dis-eased. The lie and the profundus is merely piercing. Flatten the spikes, be atop the bed of nails. Wait. Funda-mental, bottom mind, first id-ego otherwise mind, frame a being, be a one, and not the other, here, there, there, it's okeh, eh, ok? E-see easing easy living, being been done, doing all that old trees do, after all, we wait to feel the fire beetles, land and lay their eggs among our ash, and swollen-cracked nuts, fire calls them into heat, in season. Such things we learned from the ant people who saved us in reeds, thatching from roofs floating, maybe, really, lifeboats, but think a tsunami through, rush incursive and excursive. Lay down a layer of plausibility, evoke applause clap each hand once. Curtain.
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Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 2:01 AM UTC
Connection
Synchronic simple step be yonder, yo, go, no go, si, go on and on and on … so yust so yust to be we once went we split, full moiety, each ac- act- act-ion -jello-timed- lobes blobs plasmoieted mind parabolic, by yah, Arching fly call it, I got it, call his name, yah who done did done GOT caught the funny parts. Read the books. Now. At this point, cognitive native child formed in my mortal moment per-ifery-wasery rules secret se- per seance sacred made knowledge, state of knowing entered, left ab-rupturously, grief, lief left easy, re lief, sigh good grief. We were all we- are Charlie Brown, forever interrupted, as if once, however long ago, we knew we were one thing, then we knew we were merely words between things you knew and did not do. and you know you imagined this is that. The novel experience, this side. Post-done and paid off. Precautionary. Click. Why not, who is asking, hangs, as pregnant pause über Þe olde excessive easing hook, who are we, and what are we doing, we who were to survive receiving asked knowledge, the easy-does-it tree, shows us the easy way, this way dis-eased. The lie and the profundus is merely piercing. Flatten the spikes, be atop the bed of nails. Wait. Funda-mental, bottom mind, first id-ego otherwise mind, frame a being, be a one, and not the other, here, there, there, it's okeh, eh, ok? E-see easing easy living, being been done, doing all that old trees do, after all, we wait to feel the fire beetles, land and lay their eggs among our ash, and swollen-cracked nuts, fire calls them into heat, in season. Such things we learned from the ant people who saved us in reeds, thatching from roofs floating, maybe, really, lifeboats, but think a tsunami through, rush incursive and excursive. Lay down a layer of plausibility, evoke applause clap each hand once. Curtain.
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69
I escaped from the Cognitive Radiance Suppression Clinic two nights ago Slipped through the pressure cracks unnoticed No precautionary measures Just focus On the outside I sung Swept into a tornado of metaphysical ****** into a whirlpool of the spiritual I was connected to the universe Amplified by my well versed tongue However, the reverie didn’t last long My mind was confiscated I was told its volatility needed to be monitored for safe measures Now it’s attached to suppression plates In that asylum I lay dormant Patiently waiting for my next outbreak
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Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC
Writer's Block
17 months without seeing you - 1 phone call and every feeling I ever suppressed exploded into my body. I thought the dam I had built was a precautionary one. A nice safety mechanism in case it ever monsoons. I had no idea water had been building on the other side patiently waiting for one small crack to burst completely.
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Apr 23, 2024
Apr 23, 2024 at 12:26 AM UTC
Sprung a leak
12/15/2015 "You, doctor, go from breakfast to madness." Anne Sexton The engine of my amygdala: so burnt out I needed coolant, I needed something to prevent my immolation a sort of precautionary measure Rum's flammable I'd soon find out In a crowd of hundred dark and smoke crawled through my shoulders social little parasite apologize for being an interruption to everyone "Wish I could've been there" Sucrose altruism, back at the mental hospital id relived every single second with you thinking of your anger I read Tennessee William's letters I loved you I even loved your hatred. A girl across the hall screaming about Jesus and her **** shouting singing Shenandoah "But I don't need to be here," I turned to my roommate, a strong figure I still admire, "Everyone says that, even with a Thorazine needle halfway down their *** They'd had a name for it Something about kisses, I don't remember "Yeah, it leaves a huge bruise on your *** they laughed in the tv parlor there we were The tristate area's teenage girls too unstable for the world a step above "*oh, you know how teenagers are*" A girl with grey eyes Came in my last night there "Is it normal to cry on your first day?" I wasn't allowed to even touch her shoulder and so with the alcohol and the Lamotrogine I tried to figure out where it'd all gone wrong but it'd been hiding in me psychotic seed, a virus carrier a patient zero of my own tepid insanity!
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
untitled
You take blurred photos like a blind man And then call them sublime Nothing stops you from singing in the rain "Singing In The Rain" Like the droogie from a movie That we saw another time Tell me another tale, I asked of you About your mom or dad, whoever you are less closer to But you wouldn't. You ran out of home, And ***** to give Then you said I was just like you Only if I could be honest Maybe you were right Also manic depressive You are a rollercoaster ride A theme park adventure with No precautionary measures inside You told me to take pictures Like you were sure I will forget Guess what, I didn't.
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Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
A Rainy Theme Park Day
it's the world we live in or the one of my own fabrication where nothing is really as it seems it's always something no matter what nothing is as it seems I want to see you but precautionary measures turn to screams but what is there to lose? life has grown so drab and boring important for a moment and the ease you move forward stings try to be all the things we both want me to be life's not fair but then again it molds to how you make it seem you're over there and I'm standing with a heavy lean if I could I would sweat and make us both believe that these sins of the flesh are what we need your body on mine slowly gently makes me believe your lips on mine capture the breathe we share and heave your soul with mine share meaning I'll conceived please don't remind me where I've failed and leave growing numb I want you to relieve I want you now I want you with me
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Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
regrets
Drip drip drip The blood paints the floor Pupils shaking at the sight of the gore Crimson crater diverging further Before you know it the news will exclaim ****** I guess it kind of is, me killing my former self By releasing my demons I gain insurmountable wealth Say what you want, I've heard it all before From "heartless ***** down to ***** ***** I know I'm better than those hurtful words you spew Yet they still hit home and taint my already clouded view The mirror is a trick and I don't believe it for a second You taught me not to love myself and with false data you reckoned The bandage on my wrist is precautionary at best I don't care who comments on my relapse filled quest Drip drip drip The red soaks through and everyone assumes "Oh she's the attention seeker" fills rooms Sorry I guess for wanting control It's never been my place and I never play that role I'm passive and submissive in every other aspect I need some grip on my world even if indirect The scars are tempting and the blood is addicting I always slice more, never restricting It stings like crazy but I have to push harder If the beads don't rise next time I'll be smarter Technique is key in the process Like a well thought out game of chess Drip drip drip I can't help but sign in relief Another successful session, however brief My pure fair skin bears more scars than it should I want to stop but I don't think I could Can't say I care at all anymore Waking up in the morning is in itself a chore Blissful sleep is my one escape Only in my dreams can a happy life take shape
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Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
Drip
Drip drip drip The blood paints the floor Pupils shaking at the sight of the gore Crimson crater diverging further Before you know it the news will exclaim ****** I guess it kind of is, me killing my former self By releasing my demons I gain insurmountable wealth Say what you want, I've heard it all before From "heartless ***** down to ***** ***** I know I'm better than those hurtful words you spew Yet they still hit home and taint my already clouded view The mirror is a trick and I don't believe it for a second You taught me not to love myself and with false data you reckoned The bandage on my wrist is precautionary at best I don't care who comments on my relapse filled quest Drip drip drip The red soaks through and everyone assumes "Oh she's the attention seeker" fills rooms Sorry I guess for wanting control It's never been my place and I never play that role I'm passive and submissive in every other aspect I need some grip on my world even if indirect The scars are tempting and the blood is addicting I always slice more, never restricting It stings like crazy but I have to push harder If the beads don't rise next time I'll be smarter Technique is key in the process Like a well thought out game of chess Drip drip drip I can't help but sign in relief Another successful session, however brief My pure fair skin bears more scars than it should I want to stop but I don't think I could Can't say I care at all anymore Waking up in the morning is in itself a chore Blissful sleep is my one escape Only in my dreams can a happy life take shape
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