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"stubbornness" poems
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is not "fight my disability" we were never at war with one another like me, it just wants to exist and so i let it to some extent i’ll never “become my disability” yet i don’t believe it’s a bad thing either i’ve come to realise that he’s become a part of me as he’s helped shape my thinking and maybe even my personality a little bit i owe all my stubbornness to him nah i don’t fight my disability we’re bffs the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is not "get up every day" though for a while, i thought it was getting up is easy facing the world? getting easier i used to blush at the thought of getting a wheelchair i’d bury my face in my knees and cover my ears with my hands, thinking that if i couldn’t see it or hear it, i wouldn’t need it i cared too much of what society would see me as not “normal teenage girl” "sad confined possibly a teenage girl?" normal is overrated and to be honest? so is society the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is not pretending i’m okay with mainstreaming dear teachers, “mainstreaming” was never in my vocabulary pretending? pfft dear teachers, this is 100% real contentment IEPs got some getting used to but after 16 years of endless doctors appointments, people in white sterile coats, plastic latex gloves poking, prodding demanding things of me "mainstreaming" won’t ever exist in my vocabulary i know i’m smart and i know i can do it so don’t you DARE cry at my graduation it’d be pretty pathetic if i believed in myself more than you do the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is accepting the realities i don’t know when i’ll take my last step i don’t know when my muscles will give out for good i know that every day i won’t know what’s right in front of me i know that i’ll never be able to run another mile in my life and i know that i won’t ever stop dreaming about the things i wish i could do would love to do won’t ever do might do one day
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Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
not disabled
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is not "fight my disability" we were never at war with one another like me, it just wants to exist and so i let it to some extent i’ll never “become my disability” yet i don’t believe it’s a bad thing either i’ve come to realise that he’s become a part of me as he’s helped shape my thinking and maybe even my personality a little bit i owe all my stubbornness to him nah i don’t fight my disability we’re bffs the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is not "get up every day" though for a while, i thought it was getting up is easy facing the world? getting easier i used to blush at the thought of getting a wheelchair i’d bury my face in my knees and cover my ears with my hands, thinking that if i couldn’t see it or hear it, i wouldn’t need it i cared too much of what society would see me as not “normal teenage girl” "sad confined possibly a teenage girl?" normal is overrated and to be honest? so is society the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is not pretending i’m okay with mainstreaming dear teachers, “mainstreaming” was never in my vocabulary pretending? pfft dear teachers, this is 100% real contentment IEPs got some getting used to but after 16 years of endless doctors appointments, people in white sterile coats, plastic latex gloves poking, prodding demanding things of me "mainstreaming" won’t ever exist in my vocabulary i know i’m smart and i know i can do it so don’t you DARE cry at my graduation it’d be pretty pathetic if i believed in myself more than you do the hardest thing i do as a disabled person is accepting the realities i don’t know when i’ll take my last step i don’t know when my muscles will give out for good i know that every day i won’t know what’s right in front of me i know that i’ll never be able to run another mile in my life and i know that i won’t ever stop dreaming about the things i wish i could do would love to do won’t ever do might do one day
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56
I thought I could trust you With my hopes My dreams Secrets But no You turned them against me Told the words I whispered Cried and shouted Spoken in Confidence With one single note You have betrayed me Hurt me Wounded Cutting Deeper than any flesh wound Now because of your childish pride And your stubbornness It is I who is being punished Who has to live with your mistakes You have cost me More than you know You’ve been banished from my parent’s lives Not that I really blame them For all the harm you’ve brought them Now that damage Has carried on to me And I have to live with it You can go on your merry way Having nothing to do with them But I do Because of you I can never Have a celebration A party All of that is now gone My graduation Forget it You’re no longer invited My parent’s don’t want you in their home Remember I said that I wanted you to be my maid of honor Forget that too Because of your selflessness I have to live with the consequences Even when I have done nothing Wrong Now because of you my trust is Lost
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Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Trust
In the rectory garden on his evening walk Paced brisk Father Shawn. A cold day, a sodden one it was In black November. After a sliding rain Dew stood in chill sweat on each stalk, Each thorn; spiring from wet earth, a blue haze Hung caught in dark-webbed branches like a fabulous heron. Hauled sudden from solitude, Hair prickling on his head, Father Shawn perceived a ghost Shaping itself from that mist. 'How now,' Father Shawn crisply addressed the ghost Wavering there, gauze-edged, smelling of woodsmoke, 'What manner of business are you on? From your blue pallor, I'd say you inhabited the frozen waste Of hell, and not the fiery part. Yet to judge by that dazzled look, That noble mien, perhaps you've late quitted heaven?' In voice furred with frost, Ghost said to priest: 'Neither of those countries do I frequent: Earth is my haunt.' 'Come, come,' Father Shawn gave an impatient shrug, 'I don't ask you to spin some ridiculous fable Of gilded harps or gnawing fire: simply tell After your life's end, what just epilogue God ordained to follow up your days. Is it such trouble To satisfy the questions of a curious old fool?' 'In life, love gnawed my skin To this white bone; What love did then, love does now: Gnaws me through.' 'What love,' asked Father Shawn, 'but too great love Of flawed earth-flesh could cause this sorry pass? Some ****** condition you are in: Thinking never to have left the world, you grieve As though alive, shriveling in torment thus To atone as shade for sin that lured blind man.' 'The day of doom Is not yest come. Until that time A crock of dust is my dear hom.' 'Fond phantom,' cried shocked Father Shawn, 'Can there be such stubbornness-- A soul grown feverish, clutching its dead body-tree Like a last storm-crossed leaf? Best get you gone To judgment in a higher court of grace. Repent, depart, before God's trump-crack splits the sky.' From that pale mist Ghost swore to priest: 'There sits no higher court Than man's red heart.'
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Dialogue Between Ghost And Priest
In the rectory garden on his evening walk Paced brisk Father Shawn. A cold day, a sodden one it was In black November. After a sliding rain Dew stood in chill sweat on each stalk, Each thorn; spiring from wet earth, a blue haze Hung caught in dark-webbed branches like a fabulous heron. Hauled sudden from solitude, Hair prickling on his head, Father Shawn perceived a ghost Shaping itself from that mist. 'How now,' Father Shawn crisply addressed the ghost Wavering there, gauze-edged, smelling of woodsmoke, 'What manner of business are you on? From your blue pallor, I'd say you inhabited the frozen waste Of hell, and not the fiery part. Yet to judge by that dazzled look, That noble mien, perhaps you've late quitted heaven?' In voice furred with frost, Ghost said to priest: 'Neither of those countries do I frequent: Earth is my haunt.' 'Come, come,' Father Shawn gave an impatient shrug, 'I don't ask you to spin some ridiculous fable Of gilded harps or gnawing fire: simply tell After your life's end, what just epilogue God ordained to follow up your days. Is it such trouble To satisfy the questions of a curious old fool?' 'In life, love gnawed my skin To this white bone; What love did then, love does now: Gnaws me through.' 'What love,' asked Father Shawn, 'but too great love Of flawed earth-flesh could cause this sorry pass? Some ****** condition you are in: Thinking never to have left the world, you grieve As though alive, shriveling in torment thus To atone as shade for sin that lured blind man.' 'The day of doom Is not yest come. Until that time A crock of dust is my dear hom.' 'Fond phantom,' cried shocked Father Shawn, 'Can there be such stubbornness-- A soul grown feverish, clutching its dead body-tree Like a last storm-crossed leaf? Best get you gone To judgment in a higher court of grace. Repent, depart, before God's trump-crack splits the sky.' From that pale mist Ghost swore to priest: 'There sits no higher court Than man's red heart.'
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50
a goat encounters a lion. normally the lion sees the goat as food. instead The Lion offers shelter warmth theo goat offered protection awkward that a four-legged hooved animal could protect the queen of the jungle protection together they stood both natural leaders both immature in the ways at the time neither wanted to back down from the other but that's what made it work despite the goats dexterity and natural stubbornness in his ways the lion SAT and ate with the goat. years and years they feast upon the golden ducks they collected at the rivers which they traveled odd as combination is professionals know that that is not even a combination amongst the food chain but fore a while they dined peacefully. the lion roared bloodthirsty the goat while being the loner the leader willfully back down from the lion scenario has a goat beat a lion. The goat couldn't bear the lion parting ways the goat be that as it may just wanted his own way but the goat has to learn sometimes the best win is to back off not every wall is meant to be broken especially that of a lion and her pride so the lion beautiful as ever smirked as if we were the prey and the goat knowingly put his head inside her mouth I'll let you tell it
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Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
a Capricorn and Leo Wow
the friction of  my selfish stubbornness colliding with your personality is nothing compared to the speed at which you always send my heart slamming into my fractured ribs. just enough to remind me of the laws of attraction and how my mind accelerates and crashes and how you always have enough force to save me from the edge of the map
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Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
physics
You, my love, are amazing. Your laugh is like a sweet candy for the ears. Your smile melts my heart. When you look at me, i can only stare at what i want to be. What i have always dreamed of having. When you call me "Boo" or "Babygirl" all i can think of is how you have chosen me me to be your lover, your partner the one to show your love to. im amazed at your beauty by your stubbornness. And i love every piece of it. I love you baby
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
Amazed
How many are there That can quietly put up with death Stoically going through the pain A stubbornness to make death envious Of life and the living! How many are there That can count up to end Breathes where others see death Holds on when there seems nothing to hold onto As if to tell, ‘life is no pity, it’s dignity’!
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Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
Dignity
All she wanted was to cry her heart out but her stubbornness never allowed her to shed a single tear so she changed her eyes turned into deep blue oceans holding their stroms with in appearing so calm and smooth her saltish smile sweeter than honey never reached her eyes anymore her laughter was like waves smashing against a glass wall she reeked sadness intoxicating millions hearts who dared to inhale her scent she was a broken witch yet they were all under her everlasting spell !!
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
Witch !!
Bouncing down the tall stairs Hazel eyes and short blonde hair Daughter, the first of two She looked up to you Mama’s girl was so small Not like her dad at all Daddy liked to fish, hunt and hike Kayak, canoe and mountain bike She liked all the little girl things Barbies, crayons and trampolines Today I sit in your old kayak and gear And think about us as if you were still here I wish we could do all these things together Now we’re the same, but you never got better In and out of hospitals all the time Still we all thought that you would be just fine No answers, no cure and little treatment But you had hope in the discouragement Time has passed and you’ve been missed greatly I realize now just how much you gave me Your stubbornness, determination and drive Your deep love and passion of all things outside Dad, so many things we could do I want to be back there with you On the water with that kayak But nothing will bring those days back So many things you’ll miss Stories of my first kiss Frightening my prom date Seeing me graduate Walking me down the aisle Tearing up all the while Dad, you are loved and you are missed.
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
Words Emerged from that Old Kayak
I was taught that being stubborn is a virtue that every young boy should have, that to decide how you govern your life and your path. I was taught that being stubborn is simply a way to be, that wanting and yearning provided my journey's fee. I was taught that being stubborn was a sign of respect, of pride. Unlearn all that'd been thought and learn all from inside. I was taught that being stubborn would create a wall around me, a nocturne of darkness for which only i could see. Now i am alone, all stubborn and virtuous wishing for a chance. but this disease is cure-less Through no other circumstance.
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC
Stubbornness
Bear with me, Smile. Let me cling to this denial.
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC
The stubbornness of sadness.
And you left me like a baby flower choking On dust, and loss of future blooming, And tremors like Eos's tears On the stillest vernal pool - It was as if you stole my life and simply Went - or put me on my little sailboat That sang of youth and an hourglass, a Duet composed in the ***** crystal of purgatory, Between my insatiably wild stronghold and The rosy maiden, blushing, full, yet Dumb, willingly deaf to red flags, Praying for a partner to make a golden Lady of the wood and water And light, so warm and shimmering under The forest's pine-down cover - what a Big, hasty mistake, to keep yourself Hollow and blind to the day's good things, to remain a Man alone, wistfully misplacing a love Who showed the loyalty of a crimson kindness, and who Was always singing bliss and beauty and glowing into your ears, So stuffed with lies, bitterness, ideals, and Full like drunken leeches - all this, and the coldness, the stubbornness Of the oldest mule, to stay isolated from my Loving eyes, to make time with our sorrowful Echoes, yours and mine. *vertical quote from Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Weakness
I am stubborn. I will admit that. I hate being stubborn. You know why? Because once I realize that being stubborn has gotten me nowhere- I break down.... I am have pride- Not much But it's there. And when I lose that pride. Either someone breaks it Or I realize that I was wrong. And I cry. I cry.......
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Stubbornness
Our love was and will always be my favorite story cause he loved with a love that was more than love. Far greater and deeper than any man could ever love a woman such as herself. She was wild and unruly and quite stubborn. Although his young spirit and stubbornness matched hers, she couldn't help, but be pleased at the way he just understood her. Even when she wore her masks for the world, he knew the real one, the one she took off for only him to see. He knew what she was and still loved her, even when she doubted herself. Yet there were moments where she came alive and had such a confidence that could handle any and all situations. The way she could talk to anyone who crossed her path with such charm and flair. His way of life encouraged her to be equal as him and respected as so. Their love was unlike any other, they respected one another and it showed. He was and she was the best they ever had. They didn't need the world to see their moments of chaos they were private in that sense. They never talked bad about one another those discussions were behind closed doors. You could only get a glimpse into what true love looked like. What made them? Them? How he loved and tamed her at times? He proved over and over to her that he only loved her. He only looked for her, he only ever thought about her. The way she kept him always wanting and needing more of her. It was a love shared on common ground. Not full of misery and destruction that's never fully able to recover, no their love was better than that. Far greater than that. They had this bond that they shared and both understood their places when together and around others. Almost like this unbreakable force that held them tightly together by their unspoken love. Yes! This was why it would always be my favorite love story because it was theirs.
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Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Our love story
Our love was and will always be my favorite story cause he loved with a love that was more than love. Far greater and deeper than any man could ever love a woman such as herself. She was wild and unruly and quite stubborn. Although his young spirit and stubbornness matched hers, she couldn't help, but be pleased at the way he just understood her. Even when she wore her masks for the world, he knew the real one, the one she took off for only him to see. He knew what she was and still loved her, even when she doubted herself. Yet there were moments where she came alive and had such a confidence that could handle any and all situations. The way she could talk to anyone who crossed her path with such charm and flair. His way of life encouraged her to be equal as him and respected as so. Their love was unlike any other, they respected one another and it showed. He was and she was the best they ever had. They didn't need the world to see their moments of chaos they were private in that sense. They never talked bad about one another those discussions were behind closed doors. You could only get a glimpse into what true love looked like. What made them? Them? How he loved and tamed her at times? He proved over and over to her that he only loved her. He only looked for her, he only ever thought about her. The way she kept him always wanting and needing more of her. It was a love shared on common ground. Not full of misery and destruction that's never fully able to recover, no their love was better than that. Far greater than that. They had this bond that they shared and both understood their places when together and around others. Almost like this unbreakable force that held them tightly together by their unspoken love. Yes! This was why it would always be my favorite love story because it was theirs.
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2
You my friend                      Mistake stubbornness                                             For Strength
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
Mixed Signals: PRESS SEND
I was the architect of my own fall. It had been easier to open my hands helplessly than to clench fists against bullet-scarred walls. Transgression: naivety in passivity. Penance: the loss of trust that I could shine with my own pure light. I withdrew, leaving behind the space I had carved. I hid, healing myself in silence, for in that place, dreams were safer. Hunger remained hunger, longing remained longing. I chose to carry guilt myself rather than admit that I had been broken: the stubbornness of a frayed razor that could not cut through the page. I was the builder of my suffering by my own will, seeing the glow in others. I was warm water, shimmering in a thousand drops. The world didn’t end. The sun stayed, the wind still blew, and the trees stretched out their arms to me. Everything that came after was easier, no longer hurting so much. I am sitting on a bench in the gold-red park, watching the leaves, watching this life, which, in my mind, was different months ago. But this time I take my face in my hands, with tenderness to myself, rebuilding my home, my place. I know I always deserved it.
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 3:29 PM UTC
The Architect
Softly and steadily we munch A roller motion action As we gently pass over Living in a contented silence Randomly we each call Hollow pipes we are played By the holy organist As life plays its tune Understood be very few As we submit to the herd And spiral around a oneness Mooing and mooing With a great gusto We send out O's circles spiraling Softly blowing bubbles With an oily shine We are carried forward In these bulbs of light Air filled with vibration Caressing and holding Our community with An invisible film As we all feel this Light headed embrace And the golden ring of community Is placed on our finger We say "YES YES YES " For we love her very much   Living free of hierarchy As everyone is equal Servant and master Divorced from the conflicting Ties of politics We are as level and free as The planes from which we graze Living a freedom faraway from Rank and power And enjoy the vast out stretching Places where our hearts unburdened By mountains unfold into unlimited spaces Collapsing within each breath We spread our Love with the ease Of melting butter in the African sun Far and wide In the mating season We may bumble around Like bumper cars As you can not underestimate The force of each individual As we bang and bang our way   Through life until opportunity knocks Until life says yes As our our stubbornness Is not just the perfect No But the perfect Yes to And mothers reward our newborns With her loving milk The perfect colostrum A silky bliss In the expansive community Of wildebeest and cattle Where endless love Can spread like water We can learn so very much
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
THE WILDEBEEST COMMUNITY
Softly and steadily we munch A roller motion action As we gently pass over Living in a contented silence Randomly we each call Hollow pipes we are played By the holy organist As life plays its tune Understood be very few As we submit to the herd And spiral around a oneness Mooing and mooing With a great gusto We send out O's circles spiraling Softly blowing bubbles With an oily shine We are carried forward In these bulbs of light Air filled with vibration Caressing and holding Our community with An invisible film As we all feel this Light headed embrace And the golden ring of community Is placed on our finger We say "YES YES YES " For we love her very much   Living free of hierarchy As everyone is equal Servant and master Divorced from the conflicting Ties of politics We are as level and free as The planes from which we graze Living a freedom faraway from Rank and power And enjoy the vast out stretching Places where our hearts unburdened By mountains unfold into unlimited spaces Collapsing within each breath We spread our Love with the ease Of melting butter in the African sun Far and wide In the mating season We may bumble around Like bumper cars As you can not underestimate The force of each individual As we bang and bang our way   Through life until opportunity knocks Until life says yes As our our stubbornness Is not just the perfect No But the perfect Yes to And mothers reward our newborns With her loving milk The perfect colostrum A silky bliss In the expansive community Of wildebeest and cattle Where endless love Can spread like water We can learn so very much
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65
i want to eat you let no one else have you tie you to my bedpost and leave the house for the whole day uneventful day graces what might one say when all the cookies are gone make merry with marrow narrowness the slave’s in my bedroom with window blinds open for all to see in shocking stark gestures and through showering trees my dear, where has all the poetry gone i might answer, where the cookies and love went, the stubbornness of push and shove, you speak when i say you can beg when i want you to
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Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
killed ya
oh the unholy chores of my withered lord of my remorseless discord must stop the hordes as though an indian from the cupboard smothered in the rugged stubbornness of my hellacious mischief and deviance sounding out the ingredients of my grievances and disobedience patient expediance.
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Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
Chore
i might be turning into my mother. after all, i have her straight nose and her broad bones her stubbornness to *hold on to the truths you know and the lies you don't.* i might be turning into my father. after all, i have his brown eyes and his quick mind his readiness to leave things behind and *let the road unfold like twine.*
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Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
genetics
I am strong. I am not resilient. Whatever i do, whatever i endure and suffer, chips away at me little by little, I never come out of an experience the same way i went in. In the love, hate, lust, hurt, worry, helplessness, hopelessness and pain, I feel weak, I am never the same, it all takes a piece of me. People think i am weak, because i let them take me away, I let the experience eat me away. But they are wrong. In all of it, I am still alive, I keep fighting, I go under and up, in and out, No matter what happens and where it takes me, I never give up. I guess that's where my strength lies: in my stubbornness. I may not be the same person I was yesterday, And today I am in pain, I won't let up on the dreams of tomorrow.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
A differenT kinD oF strengtH.
I'm lost at the red light of confusion in between my life, my mind, the world and me determined stubbornness holds anxiety in my heart right now I'm wondering of all the secrets I've never told there are so many secrets forgotten secrets that whispers the tales of the chilled soul that others can not see
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Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
Red Light Of Confusion
Its another sleepless night, and i'm trying to figure out what i'm doing with my life, again. I'm often short of breath, lost in my thoughts. In a sea of darkness. I'm running through this maze of pain, I've been told that I would never get out by myself. My stubbornness has taken me further in this maze than I have ever gone, I’ve usually blacked out by now, screamed by now, cried by now. Ive been lost for too long and I will not give up today. Its getting hard to breathe even when i'm outside, Its getting hard to see, even if the sun might be shinning, theres always a cloud right above me. I'm tired and by myself. I feel like these walls have started to cave in on me, these last couple months the cloud above me has been pouring, and this maze is filling up with water, its getting hard to breathe again, and ive forgotten how to swim. Every turn gets darker and looking back holds nothing for me. I wish someone was trying to find me, I keep hearing screams, but none hold my name. I use to be woken up every morning by the sun, but this cloud doesn't leave. I keep running through this maze and still have not found an exit. I keep running through these paths filled with pictures of familiar faces, dont be angry when I scream that I'm trying to leave them before they leave me. I stumble into a room of mirrors, the only good thing about this cloud is that it makes it hard to see my reflections, but I need to face me, see me. Try and understand that i'm not crazy when I say how much I hate me! Maybe its a lack in faith, but in all honesty its a lack in me. I keep running into my grandfather’s empty house in this disgusting maze. Its been left abandon and collapsing. That once beautiful house, has been broken into, robbed of all its joy. How could this amazing place that was filled with great memories for me be here. But the door was broken down from the inside, the glass from the windows lay outside his house. That house is now behind him, it no longer holds anything for him, I’m sorry if one day you pass by and see my house collapsing, but it’s because I finally found the exit to this maze. 4/25/15
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
Maze
Its another sleepless night, and i'm trying to figure out what i'm doing with my life, again. I'm often short of breath, lost in my thoughts. In a sea of darkness. I'm running through this maze of pain, I've been told that I would never get out by myself. My stubbornness has taken me further in this maze than I have ever gone, I’ve usually blacked out by now, screamed by now, cried by now. Ive been lost for too long and I will not give up today. Its getting hard to breathe even when i'm outside, Its getting hard to see, even if the sun might be shinning, theres always a cloud right above me. I'm tired and by myself. I feel like these walls have started to cave in on me, these last couple months the cloud above me has been pouring, and this maze is filling up with water, its getting hard to breathe again, and ive forgotten how to swim. Every turn gets darker and looking back holds nothing for me. I wish someone was trying to find me, I keep hearing screams, but none hold my name. I use to be woken up every morning by the sun, but this cloud doesn't leave. I keep running through this maze and still have not found an exit. I keep running through these paths filled with pictures of familiar faces, dont be angry when I scream that I'm trying to leave them before they leave me. I stumble into a room of mirrors, the only good thing about this cloud is that it makes it hard to see my reflections, but I need to face me, see me. Try and understand that i'm not crazy when I say how much I hate me! Maybe its a lack in faith, but in all honesty its a lack in me. I keep running into my grandfather’s empty house in this disgusting maze. Its been left abandon and collapsing. That once beautiful house, has been broken into, robbed of all its joy. How could this amazing place that was filled with great memories for me be here. But the door was broken down from the inside, the glass from the windows lay outside his house. That house is now behind him, it no longer holds anything for him, I’m sorry if one day you pass by and see my house collapsing, but it’s because I finally found the exit to this maze. 4/25/15
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2
Generations pass as autonomy eludes us denying us the opportunity to reach for liberality. Indifference, being a predecessor, digs shallow graves in so many ways, Watching heritage that once was become something uncanny, Unrecognizably lingering; lifeless. Racial force fields, forces fields of incarcerated thoughts to take root, Keeping us from seeing beyond ourselves, and The barriers built to keep those out, only keep us, from letting us, to allow others in, and trust is placed on trial, looking at a life sentence of death, unaware of its opportunity to freely avail or elude it’s predicament. If only it would appeal to the counsel of the majority. Stubbornness sometimes refuses to embrace what we know needs to be confronted in order to bring about change, unifying an outside world where life is not always fair and those around us calculate thoughts to hinder our progression. We live in a place of democracy and disdain where street corner pharmaceuticals ****** the weary, where adolescent girls are forced to become teenage mothers or prostitutes, where empty baseball diamonds and dugouts are replaced by thick scaling barb wired walls and gray barred cells, where young men and women trade their age multiplied for the number they will where in a system for life, and where the sound of a crying disappointed child is exchanged for anger and abuse, in the absence of a father or mother figure, figuratively disfigured and lost in translation; an abandonment of generations past. Who will lead and guide us? Who will plead and advocate on our behalf? Who will stand in the gap? Who will lead us past the captive mind to captivate hearts? Who will provide the keys to unlock and break us free? Free from the broken barriers that divide us? ~
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Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
Dividing Barriers
Generations pass as autonomy eludes us denying us the opportunity to reach for liberality. Indifference, being a predecessor, digs shallow graves in so many ways, Watching heritage that once was become something uncanny, Unrecognizably lingering; lifeless. Racial force fields, forces fields of incarcerated thoughts to take root, Keeping us from seeing beyond ourselves, and The barriers built to keep those out, only keep us, from letting us, to allow others in, and trust is placed on trial, looking at a life sentence of death, unaware of its opportunity to freely avail or elude it’s predicament. If only it would appeal to the counsel of the majority. Stubbornness sometimes refuses to embrace what we know needs to be confronted in order to bring about change, unifying an outside world where life is not always fair and those around us calculate thoughts to hinder our progression. We live in a place of democracy and disdain where street corner pharmaceuticals ****** the weary, where adolescent girls are forced to become teenage mothers or prostitutes, where empty baseball diamonds and dugouts are replaced by thick scaling barb wired walls and gray barred cells, where young men and women trade their age multiplied for the number they will where in a system for life, and where the sound of a crying disappointed child is exchanged for anger and abuse, in the absence of a father or mother figure, figuratively disfigured and lost in translation; an abandonment of generations past. Who will lead and guide us? Who will plead and advocate on our behalf? Who will stand in the gap? Who will lead us past the captive mind to captivate hearts? Who will provide the keys to unlock and break us free? Free from the broken barriers that divide us? ~
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