There are some things that are not meant to be sugar coated
There are some things that are not suppose to be cleaned up and meant to look good
Do not sugarcoat the night you were ***** or the aftermath
Do not sugarcoat the nights you’ve taken a blade to your wrists
Do not sugarcoat the first time you downed ***** because your heart was broken
Do not sugarcoat when your parents hit you
Do not sugarcoat when your boyfriend absolutely destroyed you
Do not sugarcoat the reasons why you started using drugs
Do not sugarcoat vices
Do not sugarcoat pain
Do not sugarcoat suffering
Do not sugarcoat agony
Do not sugarcoat me”
— Some things should be sugarcoated. These are not it

Depression is hard to understand. The dictionary naively refers to it as, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." But what does the dictionary know about depression? I think depression is more complicated than that. But I don't quite know what that consists of. I've been trying to figure it out for months now, and I just can't seem to understand. I don't know what depression is, but I can tell you what it's not.

Depression is not polite. Depression doesn't knock before he barges in. He just lets himself in, unannounced and unexpected, and leaves me gasping for what little air is left in the room.
Depression isn't clean. He doesn't tidy up after he makes a mess. He comes into my life like a hurricane, and leaves me to pick up the crumbled pieces of my rubbled life.
Depression isn't moral. He steals my happiness and kills my spirit. He doesn't abide by any common rules or laws, he makes his own rules and I have to play by them.
Depression isn't popular. The only "friends" he has are his victims. He drags me away from everyone who used to love me, and leaves me isolated in a cold, dark place.
Depression isn't respectful. He claws his way into the lives of so many genuine people and drives them to the brink of insanity. He has no regard for my thoughts or my feelings, stomping all over me until there's nothing decent left to salvage.
Depression isn't creative. He tells you everything as it is and makes you see all of the terrible things poisoning the world. He doesn't sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and he helped me clearly see even my smallest of flaws.
Depression isn't nice. He calls me ugly and tells me I'm worthless. The words he whispers ring in my ears: "**** yourself, **** yourself, **** yourself."

It's hard to define depression. It doesn't fit into a small box. I've practically driven myself crazy trying to figure out what it is and why this is happening to me. I don't understand depression, and no matter how hard I try to define it, I always fall short. I don't know if depression can ever be defined. While I try aimlessly to define the undefinable, depression ruthlessly takes advantage of me. I can try as much as I'd like, but I don't define depression, depression defines me.

People always seem to misunderstand me,
It's amazing how they can judge so quickly,
That's why I decided to always be the happy one,
The one to make jokes and everything seemed fun,
But what they don't know is that anxiety,
Floods through me.
How much I hold back from the things I really want

You see it's a cruel world out there
I learned how to people can stab you in the back and pretend to care,
How everything you do
is going to be judged by people who have no clue.

So I've learned to sugarcoat my opinions,
Hide behind a lie: a smile
Be the nice one in every situation
Someone who would go that extra mile

Still it wasn't enough,
In the end I was still misunderstood.
Even if my intentions were good
it still got twisted to some bad stuff.

So I just hold myself back
trying to save myself from all the heartache,
Avoiding the trouble my emotions would make
Sugar coating my opinions
In serious situations
Just drowning myself lyrics
Avoiding all the tricky topics

Yet once again they misunderstand me,
They come up with this version of my life story,
they'd assume I'm always lonely,
And honestly it makes me angry,
Because they don't even know me.

Around* the time
Both eyes
So fixated double-book
  Marked inside the
    fairytale
      *     *    
She spread her layers
Like the Bitter beauty
So truly ribbons curly
Like the beast changed
her fruit
Please come home soon

Trying to sugarcoat stars
My date with the moon wars
Silk thread My sweet Lord

Remembering the taste
A forever not forgotten
the beat wrong words may
get you both in heat

A glass of wine I love thee
Share the good eats
And pray "Mighty God" life is hard
So misleading silk heart of words
What was truly said
over again to repeat
The best silver playful
wings of white's
like a shrine all mine

The smile when your
the heart is the aching
Love didn't feel right
Those confessions
to play out the
innocent love dose night

He summons her on
Queen Antionette
Killing me softly

French silk pastry I love thee
Not to pry covering up the
commander

Layers he could smell
She's settling in
Like the splendor picnic
grass of fruit
What a big mouth
He has the perfect foot

It's her the Owl toot
The hard labor of words
Overlaid  like under
the weather maid
Finely crafted silk leather
Florence Italy boots

To fought out in every dip
of his fruit
Vegetables the envy
of the green planet of Kale
She was so jaded
Layering Silk Thine
It's time to be mated
The many layers of his smile
Shadowed over the windows
strangers enchanted by what they saw

Like Tomato vine silk
thine running away from love
There was note pulling them back
The longer you wait for
a double feature smack

Meeting the dark hawks
Nothing could stop her
When he talks wind blows
Magical silk tongue
drips overflow

Silk weave on his
white crisp shirt
His tears met my blouse
talk can be cheap but not
from your spouse

The bed looks like
the heart of science
The heart of silk birds
communicate to
the brain of buzzing bees
Missed the timeless
train____ on your knees

Whats more death do us part
Something took a beating
Eternal return to me meeting

I silk Thine or rose thorn for me
What about the day

You were born the sign
and meanings
The brain overworked
our hearts
Two newlywed blue worker collar

Like a citation scholarly
Turned into a citation court
order of traffic

Layering all his missteps
play up her lips
Easy for most play along
toe to toe ring
He's the Hub that bubbly wish
"English Yardley" sing
Style of writing waved
her in the tub

Whispering words
all layered like
a dark promise
She had a Blackout

Mercilessly another sip
Divine silk  Turkish coffee
All in the weave of
dark clouds
on his sleeve

Mom the dressmaker such a
miracle worker
Cleaning up secrets the tears so
many delicate sides of years

Mail order bride stargazer
  heart stopped when
he dressed her
Layering on Silk Thine
Mr. and Mrs. Valentine
Regine
Physiological mechanism
My silk of words theory
His beard heart stubble

What truly appeals
Meditation the truth heals
Sumptuous layered
strawberry
shortcake more
time too short

Her wavy hair in
his heart of palms
Swinging from the trees
Making such a ruckus

Her nerve ending
like a sad song story
Robin Birds bring
on the Morning Glory
Every September
Silk stir of wine
To see the thine
*Precious Silk Rose,
you had me
Star*

Watching the world
of poems light
Why "God"
Saying how come tonight
Or not tonight please make it
"Holy Night"

He loves the way
you look how you turn
your head
On the side
of his glide

Your sleeping in
his bed he
looks at you with
layers of sweetness

birthday cake ice cream
but you lost all your sprinkles
now just vanilla.

He stands like William Stanley Moore
a mugshot of an old gangster I saw once
in sepia, stony, strangely clarified, endowed
immortalized in caramel marble
glassy eyes and all--

he plowed ahead that night
fingers twitching, only to turn
around outside of the light
once we'd gone through
the doors and I'd fled down
the stairs in his wake
to clip his heels

I've been chasing his shadow
tying my lead to his bow
far away from my own
dock, a sailboat piping
behind a cottonclad warship

I am small and timid
soft and malleable, unwild
unwoven, strips of silk in the foyer
running through his fingers
sheets sliding down his back
I cannot give what other girls
have given, the way they
dive and plead and swarm
I can only coat, can only
rinse, only lather, I can only
run over--

I am standing at his bookshelf
running a finger over the spines
gingerly closing the cabinet or
slipping into his bed, tucked
away like a porcelain doll
I try
i try
i try

I have started this letter one hundred times. I have referred to you as my friend, my "cousin", my love. No term seems more right than brother, as you have grown with me, and we have lived our parallel lives. I have known you since the day I was born, and I will know you until the day I die. I have long since memorized each freckle on your face, each vein in your hand, each scar on your hip. I am saying this in the hopes that you will understand why it hurt so much when you looked me in the eye and told me to calm down.

As we skipped rocks in the river that runs past my house, you complained to me about the cousin with the crazy feminist ideals. I laughed it off, and tried to reason with you, trying to teach my dear brother a valuable lesson. That's when you stared at me, with those gorgeous, piercing eyes, and you said, "I know women think they don't have rights, but like...just calm down, okay?"

Not okay. It will never be okay. It can't be okay until boys like you stop ignoring our pain. Stop writing off our suffering as hormones and gossip. Stop telling us that our feelings are invalid.

You have always said that I was your little sister. As children, you were the first to teach me how to throw a punch, so I could take care of myself. You were the first to grab me by the hand and whisper, "I will never let anything happen to you."

If you wanted to protect me, if you wanted to love me, if you wanted me to have what you have, you would not ignore the hardships of myself and my sisters. You would not tell me I'm making it up. You would not tell me to calm down. You would not stop until everything really was okay.

I wonder how much you actually know about feminism, and how much you actually know about me. Once I thought you had memorized each piece I have given you, the way I have memorized every curve in your body, and every corner of your brain. I suppose, looking back, you never were the best listener.

The day before you came to me, angry about the unfairness of your parents. I would never say to you, "I know you think it's not fair but like...just calm down, okay?" When you came to me about your anxiety, I would never say, "I know you think it's hard, but like...just calm down, okay?" I would never ignore your words, would never patronize your pain, would never tell you to calm down.

Something inside of me has been broken ever since that day. The day that I realized that my big brother wasn't always the good guy. Some days, he's the villain. Most days, he's part of the problem.

I will always love you. You have been with me since my first breathe, and I'll be ****** if you're not there for my last. I will always listen, always hold you, always love you, always be here for you. But the one thing I refuse to do is dilute my anger for you. I will not sugarcoat my oppression, will not sweep away my sadness. I will not calm down.

And maybe, with you by my side, we could make things be okay.

I'm not going to lie to you and tell you there aren't any monsters,
Nor am I going to sugarcoat the facts,
People are monsters, kid.
Humanity is imaginary.
Everybody chewing each other's ears with horrible remarks,
Making glass eyes fall out with every piercing stare.
Skin breaking with each hit.

So I don't understand why we check for monsters beneath the bed,
When they are obvious,
All around us.
Causing suicide and death.
Allowing people to fill our head,
Our heart.

That's when the real damage starts.
The monsters possessing us.
Their strong magic,
So called love.
Strong force,
Squeezes our hearts and makes it pulse.
Causing cracks,
Until it rips out of our chest,
And finds a new home in who made it that way.

So yes, monsters are real.
They are in your classes,
And in your home.
They are passing you in the store,
And they are lying to you.

But the realist part about this,
Is you're a monster.
As am I.
We are all born this way.
Humanity is imaginary.
We are all monsters.

I never knew we would bond instantly
From "just being friends" to "more than just friends"
Why did it even happen
I hope there'll be a time that we'll know why

I want to hold your hand so I won't let you go
I want to wrap you around my arms to keep you warm
I want to kiss you to comfort you from hurting
I want to hug you to protect you from harm

I mean what I say
I don't want to sugarcoat the reality
They may not notice what you've been through
But I do, believe me

I knew that I would say it before I wrote it
Cause I thought that we could be something
I wish that our hearts would synchronize its beat
I wish it could be us

It was June and not summer,
Splashy, muddy, slimy,
wind-kissing roads of Chennai in sight,
I hear, "Jennifer, Jennifer."
Aloysius' wife answers in.
Break - in the movie, I sip my coffee.
Water was rising in the southernmost state of India,
Destruction or development,
Recovery or renovation,
Right words struggled to meet right arms,
Jennifer and Aloysius buffered in the background,
House I was not in was sinking.
I stopped watching snowflakes in the Americas,
Wished for a sun-feast in Kerala,
I lapsed to places sitting at the window pane,
Netflix didn't help the cultural fix.
here, thoughts succumbed, coffee mug dried up.
While uninvited ants,
swept my coffee off the sugarcoat...

I am jiggling on that stage.
The egoless strut.
The humorous tap.
The spectacular trip.
Fall over,
over. and
Over
again.

Get up,
find a ballroom
Dancer.
Find a hand holding
Partner.
Play "Spice Up Your Life".
Spice Girls,
listen to the bridge.
tells you to Salsa.

Watch that scene.
Billy Elliot,
With the pianist.
Dancing Billy.
He loves it.
Just do it,
you love it too.

Cheesy pop,
You don't need to
embellish yourself.
No grace notes.
No flat 7th.
You don't need
to sugarcoat,
the truth.

Let loose to riddims.
live on the dancefloor.
Feel the *****,
and the reggae.
Feel the triplets.
Rocksteady your way.
Dancehall to sounds.
Bounce and echo.
Side to side.
Left to right.

And we'll slow it
right
down.
The ballad starts.

Your beautiful structure on the left of your head,
the one called the ear.
The that ear controls aural empathy.
Let love be the choreographer to your moves,
Play the concept album, your heart.
Place it onto the record player and watch it spin
Start the track track with an International groove.
End. Replay.

I love how you go after the things you want.
2.I love how you strive to be better person,daughter,sister ,friend.
3.I love how you don’t allow fear of the unknown to go after your dreams.
4.I love how I don’t have to explain myself, but you listen when I feel like I need to.
5.I love how you are the most non-judgmental person I know.
6.I love how you can quote historical facts without provocation.
7.I love how you love music, and you get it when I love it too.
8.I love how research and how detailed you can be when you plan.
9.I love how dedicated you are to doing well in school.
10.I love how you remember things, in such a detailed way, in a way I never could.
11.I love how much you care about your family.
12.I love how you respect life and try to cherish every moment.
13.I love how you love me, even when I don’t.
14.I love your cute little hands and your little fingers.
15. I love how you can type so fast. I've always envied that.
16 I love how you cut through verbal garbage, especially when its mine.
17.I love your quiet wisdom. It helps me in life's storms.
18.I love how even when you're right, you stay humble. You never say I told you so.
19. I love your humbleness, even when there is so much you could be proud for.
20.I love your offerings. How whenever you're around, you are intentionally present in mind and you are bringing everything to the table to help or contribute just to make the person know you care.
21.I love how you can remember actors I know nothing about.
22.I love how you love me enough, to ask what I want.
23.I love your generous spirit, giving and giving and giving, not only to the people you love but to people who have hurt you.
24.I love how you ask me questions and LISTEN to my answers.
25.I love how you inspire me to be a better person. To do my best and to give more of me.
26.I love how you get so interested in things I never thought would be exciting. (sorry. History. I can’t remember half of it which makes it hard to get interested in it.)
27.I love you and how you have been through so much but haven’t let it steal your joy.
28.I love how we can sit in silence and not need to fill it.
29.I love how I don’t have to talk  but you know how I feel.
30.I love your style, and your beautiful hair.
31.I love how you aren’t afraid to wear what’s comfortable to you.
32.I love how freaking adorable you are in grandpa sweaters.
33.I love how comfortable you are with yourself.
34. I love how honest you are even when it doesn't benefit you.
35.I love how you’re not afraid to let me see the emotions you feel.
36. I love how real you are.
37.I love how you don’t sugarcoat things,how you deliver truth with grace.
38. I love how you  make sense of things I can’t even begin to understand.
39. I love your strength and how you help me to be strong.
40. I love your courage to try new things.
41. I love how you become an advocate for the people you love.
42. I love how you try to understand things that others are unwilling to acknowledge.
43. I love how you think so much, and how thoughtful you can be.
44. I love how hugging you feels like home.
45.  I love how you are shamelessly devoted to pop culture trivia.
46. I love how smart you are and that you are confident enough to show it.
47. I love how passionate you get about the things that interest you.
48. I love how you are so loyal.
49. I love how you listen to my fears and don’t laugh or try to placate me.
50.I love how you support me and continue to encourage me to find the way to my dreams,.
51.I love how you intentionally go out of your way to include me and others into your life.
52.I love your determination to live this life in this best way possible.
53.I love how detailed you can be.
54.I love how organized you can get.
55.I love how you can plan and execute things so well.
56. I love your truthfulness and honoring our friendship with honesty.
57.I love how you are so patient with me when I don’t understand.
58.I love how you believe the best of me.
59. I love how you work so hard for the life you want.
60. I love how you can discuss two sides of things without forgetting how you stand.

and you don't live near me anymore,
we go weeks and months,
without talking,
but I love you still,
and I always will.

When I gave you my bracelet I told you I wore it to remind myself that most pain is self inflicted and you still have it somewhere but you haven't mentioned it in a while and it's just some safety pins hooked together so I don't really need it back and I think you need it more than I do because you named the cuts on your arms after people and you blame them on events and it seems like you've forgotten why it's called self harm you say you tried to **** yourself because of your ex girlfriend and your dad and I know this isn't what you want to hear but I'm not going to sugarcoat anything you tried to **** yourself because you overreacted to a breakup you tried to **** yourself because you made yourself believe your dad hates you you tried to **** yourself because you thought yourself into a black hole and you named it after them and now you're on the verge of doing it again but this time you're screaming my name into it and I have apologized much more than necessary even though I didn't do anything wrong and you still blame me when we're on the phone at 2am on a Monday night and I'm trying to make you feel better and you keep saying you hate yourself and I'm wondering if that's actually true because most of the time it seems like you hate the people that are trying to help you and I'm begging you to start wearing my bracelet again

How she silences all my senses remains a mystery to me. She numbs my core but yet makes it beat rapidly.
  My insides turn to jelly whenever she gnaws at my belly, when she sinks her nails into my back and bites my bottom lip like a liquorice stick.
  Some others would call her a bottom **, but there's so much more to her being than being more than a side chick.
  She sings melodies which resonate with the hums of my heart when we touch,
much of which is far from lust but is purely just.
  To me she's more than a nutbust, she's more of an infinite ****** from which i cannot overcome.
                        
                    VS
my botttom ***** she.. changed the scene, I: the  bottom *****, loved and gave in once again, Into all the blissful ******* she spewed using her tongue.
Her tongue numbing everything...everything except my hands clenching, gripping knuckles turning white, my teeth drawing blood from my bottom lip.
she walked out, leaving me , bleeding , aching core. she left my house, my little bit of heaven.

Calls at 3am , the top, begging to be let it and just like that the words " go **** yourself " stuck in my throat yet my arms are missing you.
  i turn to mush when you make that face... this is why i remain in the darkside, feeding the demons you supposedly killed
  these demons were fed with lead, resurrected and led by madness.
Rage!
    or a caveman savage!

Or..
i could call her over  and offer her some tea and muffins, from a musket.
Hemp rope and hang (with) her, bound  by invincible chords to the Lord but what more could i ask for but harmonious love from broken keys.
Broken keys for broken hearts, broken hearts deserve shotguns to pump bullets into the minds of those who sugarcoat the truth.

Ranting raving
Lunatic
The way you hold
Yourself is
Sick
No respect
Lack of love
Bowing down
When push
Comes to
Shove
I cant be your
Boat
When your
Anchor
Sinks
I cant
Sugarcoat
What
I
Think
Youre bitter
Malicious
Angry
Sore
This way
Of thinking
Is
A bore

Deception mistaken for protection.
 Oh so naive.
Unwittingly taking fiction as gospel, wholeheartedly, they believe.
The art of lying, simply unable to conceive.

In these formative years, all the elders did was sugarcoat.
 Upon uncovering the truth.
They realize all that they've been fed is poison, slowly, it has been secreted.
 Down their throat.
 Cruelly cheated.
The innocence of youth.

With shaking hands and an unsure pen, she writes her definition of "I'm fine" as syllables in lines, repeated rhymes, with titles.
Someday when somebody finally asked her, "If that's what fine is, what is broken?"
She said, "Broken is the laughter at jokes that all your friends think are hilarious but you don't quite understand what's funny. Broken is dressing for November in the middle of June because you're afraid someone will see that you're not as perfect as everybody thinks. Broken is the brightest smile."
Despite the deluge of encouragement from a loving fiancé, the mirror still screams "ugly" when she looks at it. Her wrists whisper things like, "give up" and "you're not strong enough." She tells herself not to entertain these thoughts like guests in a welcoming home, because if she does, they might stay.

Well, she did. And so they did.

Like an overwhelming wave, a tsunami of pain. It crashed into her like the faltering smile that stung straight to the core. A selfish menace craving more and more. She couldn't quite place her finger on the map to point out where she had gone wrong but she knew she must have because the nights were so long; oh, how cold and unforgiving they were. She was alone. And lonely she felt. When the searing heartache became too much to bear, still she screamed but of course, no one was around to hear her. So she traced her paths with unsteady fingertips, recollecting the familiarity of stolen kisses from chapped lips.

She's tried to forget.

But closed eyes can't disguise the disgust she feels at the memory of her thighs under your palms. I was the puppet in your theatrical games, taking orders. Enter stage right, the light descending as I feel I might fall. I am not your doll. Pink cheeks of blush the shade of the roses you crushed in your selfish, malicious hands. I won't memorize your demands, highlighting them and reading them to myself over and
over
and over

again.

Center stage, I clear my throat to speak my monologue.

My eyes graze the script I carefully printed on paper with as many wrinkles and rips that you left on my heart the night you told me I wasn't good enough. I counted the times you've said that you couldn't love and it took a long time to decifer that what you really meant, was that you couldn't love me.

87 times.

87 times I said I was sorry. Maybe I meant it or maybe I was desperate for some kind of sign that I wasn't as worthless as you implied. Maybe I was hopeful that when you said you would leave, you lied. I thought of all the nights I layed awake and cried for you. With so much at stake I risked my dignity to lay down my pride. I braved the storm when I had the option to hide. And although I can't recall who was to blame for that fight, I remember I was the one who said "I love you" and you were the one who took flight.

Left me for dead with two broken wings, singing the words that you said until they became a melody of all the terrible things with a harmony to sugarcoat them and make it sound sweet. They say don't play with fire but I was intrigued by the spark, until the heat burned my soul out and left me cold in the dark. A tragedy not three pages long, now ends on the bitter refrain of the song.

She's tried to forget.

Her jaw creaks as it tightens in remorse. With silence as her monologue; the recoil from the dialogue of two lovers then friends, this story ends in act one scene one.
The beginning, the finale, she exits stage left and you'll see the crowd gasp in awe.
And where there should be an epilogue, the curtains will draw.

-k.d.

you can dip your words in honey and sugarcoat your wicked tongue,
but nothing can change your rotten heart or change what you have done.

― poetry doesn't make what you did pretty

You know something happened
When every teacher walks into the hall
And a shared, scared glance sweeps across everyone
When your friend walks into the room and tells you
And the teacher brings you into a class of strangers
To tell you how much you mean to her.
You know something happened
When she starts crying and telling you
That she can't sugarcoat it even if she wanted to
And when you walk into your next class
And the room is silent
But the teacher didn't tell them to be.
And when there is a staff member at every corner
And when there is silence in the halls
And how you didn't even know him
But it makes you sad as well.
And how every stranger to walk in the building
Could feel the tension in the air
And how you turn the corner and see your youth pastor
And how you can't even tell your best friend how you feel
And how the silence shows you that through tragedy,
We are one.
And how the silence told me that we unite through feeling,
An unspoken feeling,
A silent tribute throughout the halls
Throughout the day.
And how you see the sadness, the tissues and hugs,
And how you wonder if that's how he felt
Before it happened
Before any of us felt this way
And you wonder if he felt this feeling
The beautiful high school quarterback
With everything seemingly perfect
And you wonder if he felt this way-
numb.

The united States should NOT send military force to intervene in Syria not only because Syria is already been through some conflict why should we put them through more? Also, if we go over there acting like we are big guys who **** anything; we will lose our soliders as well. Which is irrelevant because Syria is not our problem but going into their territory will make it into theirs. Which will initially **** INNOCENT PEOPLE. Why should we start a problem with someone who has never had a problem with us? Seems like we are just bullying everybody and that is unjust and very wrong in many different ways & perspectives.
It is unacceptable. I don't understand why we are even deciding if we should or should not strike them.
We need to maintain our needs before we try to help others, all of our economy problems, low employment, our debt, we have too much on our plates already it would be simply stupidity to put our nation out there in the spotlight just to be on "top."
If we keep up with this cocky and over confidence of our nation, one day the countries surrounding us might just join together and strike us just because we are too over our heads. And people who go too far are sometimes better to not be there than to be.
We have values we need to protect, we have lives we need to continue, we have mysteries we need to discover! We need to be more into what BENEFITS us, not what is possibly going to bring us down. I am so confused on why the United States feels as if we are always going to be okay with what we do, we must not let the favors & the ways life has been given to us for granted.
To gain power, we must be a source of pleasure for those around us, if anything we should HELP Syria rather than killing innocent lives. Out of those innocent lives, those people could be the most smartest people to live, but we wouldn't discover this person because of our foolish thinking. We could even sugarcoat the countries around us, being their "best friends," promising them the moon, playing to their fantasies just to keep them in a better state of mind, more of a content feeling rather than the feeling of getting attacked. When we are in the position of feeling like we are about to get attacked & in their case might end up all dead, it's a natural instinct to react in ways we cannot explain. We don't have to promise gradual improvement; rather promise the great & sudden transformation, THE *** OF GOLD.
We can all eat like kings if we evaluate our minds in complexity, eventually resulting our radiance to lift its self up with grace.
Be positive, think Godlike. That is the main focus for those who believe in the Christian Bible, The main goal is to try an attempt to God's ways & adapt to him & how he thinks. He helps, he gives, he protects, he watches, he is God! Why wouldn't we want to try an bring positivity rather than negativity? It mindboggles my mind backward, forward & all around on how evil our generation is coming to be.

Put the past behind us
it's over now
differentiatie the lies from the truth
solemn sorrow
hide your faults
show your talents
better yet
show your faults
and let them laugh
casue only you know
the fire deep within
reckoning the winds
drizzle the lies with more lies
sugarcoat it to sound good
once upon a time
I used to believe
only fools believe

Love doesn’t question, it affirms.
Love doesn’t judge, it accepts.
Love doesn’t break, it firms.
Love doesn’t feel, it acts.
Love doesn’t count, it treasures.
Love doesn’t go one time, it stands forever.
Love doesn’t sugarcoat, it gives more than the world’s pleasures.
Love doesn’t hurt, it cures more than fever.
Love doesn’t smother, it comforts the broken.
Love doesn’t go short-tempered, it calms storms.
Love doesn’t pick, it gives all the chance to be in heaven.
Love doesn’t stop, it restores even homes.
Love doesn’t ignore, it answers the right verse.
Love doesn’t lose your way, it leads you not to drift.
Most of all, love doesn’t curse, it offers itself as a gift.

no cliche flowers,
petals ripped off and stuffed
under our naked bodies.
no sweet nothings whispered
into the deepest crevices of my ears.
no, nothing but
ratty floral couch
under freezing toes,
and silent breathing
-we didnt want to wake up his friends parents-

it didnt hurt,
he moved my body like i was the ocean
tide
pulling in and out
it felt like a mixture of cold
disbelief and riveting
ecstasy.

he didnt even know it was my first time,
and when i told him later, poison almost
visibly dripped down his lips,
but he was quick to **** it back in and sugarcoat
it with honey flavored chapstick.

and i'm not saying i regret it
because it was nice.
but "nice" is not enough for Chandra Lunah Moore.

and afterwards, when he tried to lock me to the small
foam and spring innards
couch
with his soft legs glowing golden with the help of an
off-kilter lamp in the corner,
when my muscles strained against his,
i knew the frightening power of human
desire.
how when he didnt offer a drag from his
cigarette
at all afterwards, just ****** at it needily,
all for himself,
didnt drape his jacket around my
treacherously shivering shoulders
like he had on the walk there,
didnt carry me the rest of the way,
stomping through the snow,
lips bitter after two long drags
off a joint,
he didnt hold me like he did so many times before,
(almost like he believed he was heavier with the weight of my
saved up childhood, like some kind of bank account. life savings,
dragging on his shoulders, making them, sag. skin heavy with my touch.
and i was lighter, without it.
i could walk.
he was obviously carrying the real burden.)
i knew, when he kissed me goodbye and it tasted like
a
wasted night
spent on not getting what he
wanted

i knew he was meaningless and i would
never again settle for
                                     just
                                            nice.

You are not exactly a sibling of mine
However, you are my sister
And that's all that matters, according to me
What would I do without you?
I rant and rant
Knowing that you are an amazing listener
And a shoulder to cry on
However, it is providing sound advice
Where you are really in your element
Not to mention, you don't beat around the bush
Nor do you sugarcoat things
Both of which, are qualities that resonate with me particularly well
Moreover, you always offer a fresh perspective
Whether it be work or personal stuff
Best of all, though, you are ice cool
I seriously don't know how you manage to do it
Because, in these two months, I've been behind you
And there hasn't been a single week
When you haven't been subjected to a barrage of messages
Would I have taken such liberties with you
If I weren't sure how you would react?
The answer is a resounding no
Moreover, not only are you cool with it
You also come up with solutions
For each and every problem
As I write this, things are looking up
And in no small part due to you
I'm extremely grateful to God
For giving me a sister like you
As I said earlier, what would I do without you?

Caught between Guillan's tab and your roof toward me
Worn-out sackcloth but the dust is sick of my head
Now why won't I pound a rock on it instead
I've been here, actually

Break this *** and gather all your foes
Oh where is the breaking point of your wooden-crafted nose
A chance to defend my case was gave
But all along I was digging my own grave
Faithfully, maneuvers evading the light bleeding on the sides meanwhile!

Masks of oak and grey forcefully made to wear
Dressed with mocking silk
Clothed like a circus freak
Thickness of sugarcoat make you look like an iron bear

In mud, I'm bedraggled
Blades of shame, I shave my head
My craving for a just right or even perfect bowl of porridge went down to 'what's better than cabbage than cabbage

Why can't I just go back to the fattened calves
Potato salad unshared in halves
To sit like kids beside their father's mat
Praised by aristocrats
Save me! This is a distress signal, not a salute.

Sprinkle on your cinnamon lies
Beat your butterfly kisses
Sugarcoat your evil

Tell me, with a sly smile
How your in love
Fake your gum drop beauty

Make me taste your toxic goodness
Poison me with locorice lips
Slip in your own sweetness

Simply shy away
With a strawberry blush
When you know you are caught