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“Dear Lord, I know I am the angel you most regret.
Forgive me for my misunderstood intentions.
Forgive me for the drugs I take in just to be right beneath your feet.
Forgive me for the sins I commit without regretting them.
Forgive me if I’m not a strong enough soldier to defend your word when unbelievers bash on your greatness.
Forgive me.”


**stands up and wipes the dirt off his prickly knees
random
 May 2014 YoungGentleman17
Kayla
Sometimes I want to appologize for all the breaths I take that she can't.
The sympathetic "it will get betters" always met by a blank stare and a disembodied voice screaming from somewhere deep in the room crying out WHEN?

Do you ever think late at night that this can't be what God had instore for us.
If so then what did her death teach us?

That sorrowcomes wrapped in a beautiful, bright box. Dancing haphazardly on the heart strings of everyone it entrances, and opens like Pandora's box engulfing every single thing in it's wake. Leaving tear drops the size of oceans and broken dreams so sharp and jagged you could cut a smile across the plaster face of grief and SPIT out venomously the words **"I'm fine."
 May 2014 YoungGentleman17
gg
I'm still trying to understand the fact that no baby is born hating itself and yet as life goes on people will love you but they might also hurt you or leave you or any number of horrible things, and all you can do is let them leave with pieces of you and try to fill the holes back in with something else or else try to forget that the hole is there (or at least try to forget the person that caused it) and as life goes on all of those holes make us grow in different ways than we were headed (like when people make cuts in trees and manipulate to make them grow knotted together -- people put holes in us and we try to grow around them or away from them) and we just get more and more ****** up each time until there are things we don't like about ourselves and then we expect someone else to love our insecurities when all we do is complain about them and how empty we feel (we're all full of holes) and if someone had just told us to keep loving ourselves from the start and to remember that we're all flawed humans maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when I am lying awake at three in the morning because you didn't text me back when you said you would and I'm starting to see all of the imperfections in my face and my personality and I can't sleep because I'm trying to remember just one reason that I ever thought you could love me.
Sorry, this isn't really a poem, it just kind of started as a thought and then  kept going until I imagined the kind of person who would be thinking about this (if that makes any sense). It's supposed to be a kind of stream of consciousness.
 May 2014 YoungGentleman17
Kayla
Make me writhe under you. Make me begg for release. Slowly destroy my innocence as I whimper primordial love songs in your ear. Would you leave me numb? I want you to leave me speechless. I want to float a top constellations without ever leaving this bed. I want to feel the earth move around the sun, and breathe in syncopation with the universe. I want you to make me feel alive.
Am I the girl with treasures in her head yet can't unlock the chest?

Am I the girl who is made up of a compilation of ****** scrap papers that outline every **** scar?

Am I the girl locked up in her room trying to figure out why the world is so cold, why she's all alone and nobody seems to care?

Am I the misfit girl, the one that doesn't stand out, the imperfect one, the one who has to try extra hard?

Am I the girl who is scared to delve into her sub conscious cause she might actually like what she finds?

The girl who enjoys the simple things in life, or the narcissistic ***** that woman assumes I am?

The girl who is a loosely placed coma in somebody's syntax, or the girl with a drunk mind yet sober?

Am I the girl who has the brush on her hand looking at an empty canvas, or the girl who embraces the shadows on the surface?

Am I the girl whose arms and legs are under, but still manages to keep her head above the waves?

Am I the bass guitar in somebody's symphony of life?
Am I somebody's ray of sun?
Am I somebody's trusted friend?
Am I who somebody's looking for?
Am I stoic?
Am I a wilting flower?
Am I a blooming purple orchid?
Am I even the star of my own life?

I am a pending train wreck
I am a beautiful girl
I have a good-crazed out head above my shoulders
I am completely illogical at times
I am a walking bundle of emotions
I am a heart full of games nobody wants to play
I am not perfect

I am me,
Farah.
Within me you found
A home that welcomed
Every bit of pain,
Every bit of dry,
Dark stained rose,
And drank from the cup of
Melancholy with content
But I am not stoic

The honey laced lies which
Escaped
Your bitter mouth found
Refuge in me,
And still I,
I foolishly gave you my all

Your hands are barb wired
That you can't touch without
Making me bleed,
What's love without pain?
Snow white sclera perfected
By a black dot runs after
My dreams evey **** day
You'd think you'd at least
Have the decency to leave
My dreams the hell alone

Your love doesn't gratify,
At least not like it used to
Apologies don't grate faults
No matter how much you
Adorn them with excuses
Oldie
Is my body a ghost to you?
Am I the icy breeze that stirs the air around you?
Only, it's as if you shiver when I pass you.
My eyes, you make such efforts to avoid,
It's as if they were a memory you wish to suppress.
More than I can help,
Each day my gaze falls upon you
and I can see it;
That my face has become like an unwelcome truth,
Such discomfort it brings you
as the light finds its surface.

Do flames rise from my skin?
Has the scent of my smoke
caused you such suffocation
that you must hold your breath when I am near?
Have you seen shame tangled within the curls of my hair?
Disappointment folded within the creases of my clothing?
I don't know what you have found in me,
Or how I have repulsed you so,
Only, that it seems as though you can hardly bare to look at me.

How is it that the beating of my heart has come to remind you
of a knife's edge?
And my very existence has come to cause you such pain.
Have I become nothing more than an empty echo to you?
A sound who's meaning erodes in it's clarity with every reminder
of what it once was?

My words
have always been gentle,
Yet now it seems you wince when I speak,
Have I hurt you?
What is this pain that I have caused you?
How is it that I have filled you with such disgust?

If my body were to fade to nothing,
And if my eyes were to become so well concealed
that they almost became like empty hollows,
If I were to paint my face in shadows,
Would you find your peace then, my love?

If I were to become cold,
With my skin drenched in water,
And If I were to become smooth like marble,
If I were to become an empty rock face,
with no foot holes and no rest space.
Would you find your peace then, my love?

If my heart were to melt,
And I were to exist only where you did not,
If my words were to plummet with the weight of silence,
Could I make you happy then, my love?
 May 2014 YoungGentleman17
r
Would you have
     our stars not shine?
Would you have darkness
      be your shrine?

r ~ 5/5/14
For our school girls in Nigeria, and the world over.
Blood shot eyes,
drunk with regrets infused
with cheap beer,
Laughing at our own stupidity
As we fall, stumble
and pick each other up,
only to wobble again
We'll blissfully endure the
nausea
and throbbing headaches cause we've been through
much much worse,
Together.

Knowing us,
we'll probably end up on
some rooftop at 3 in the
morn,
In a drunken haze
counting the stars one by one,
confessing our well-kept
secrets,
and vomiting all the bile that
life fed us

Sure with heads spinning,
and the blurry vision
accompanied by endless
'little room' visits
we'll say
'Never again',
Only to turn it around with
another round

When misery finds us,
Don't fret
I'll hold the cracked mirror
to your face, you do the same
And we'll find humor in our imperfections
And there, we'll dance to our temporary happiness

When they dare tell us
'You're too young to be empty',
We'll look at them
Look at us
And burst into laughter
I'll be here,
through drunken nights
and sober days,
Always.
Falling in love is as
beautiful as watching
the sun shining on the rain
in Spring
An ineffable yearning,
Is serendipity,
A blissful sorrow,
Is not lucid.

Falling in love is  
picking shards of
broken glass knowing
you'll bleed,
Is a veritable tornado,
The eye of a hurricane
flattening everything in
it's path
And it doesn't abate


It's roller-coaster you must ride

Only to throw up after.
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