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 May 2014 Presence
Sara Lee
The steel blade makes a ****,
A deep slash.
Blood pours down the drain.
Am I pretty now?


I cover who I truly am.
I hide myself from the world.
I ask you...
Am I pretty now?


I have had my fair share of battle scars.
Heard words that stung like bees.
Each time we hear those words, we ask ourselves:
Is it true? What did I do?


You make us weak.
You break us down.
You make us think:
Am I really ugly now?


Look around,
Take a good look.
We hide from the world,
Because of your words.


You make us feel unwanted!
Like a disease that can be contracted!
What gave YOU the right,
To make us feel like this?


I never understood why,
People talk like this.
Have they got no heart?
Have the got no soul?





What makes them feel,
Like this is all right?
To make others suffer,
With no friends in sight?


What gives them the right,
To make fun of us?
They don’t know us.
They don’t know what we have been through.


The worst part is,
After you realize you’ve pushed too far.
They are gone,
And they are not coming back.


You mourn for their loss,
But why bother at all?
You are the one,
Who caused it all.


They might have grown up to be brilliant,
But they can’t.
They were robbed of that chance,
As soon as the first word left your mouth.


There is one word that describes you perfectly.
BULLY!
Your ruined their chances,
At a thing we call life.


It’s your fault.
They never did anything.
Why them?
What made you choose them?


It’s really disgusting.
What you did.
You know that,
Right?





How do you feel?
Proud? Happy? Accomplished?
Or do you feel ashamed?
Think about it.


YOU JUST MADE SOMEBODY
END THEIR OWN LIFE!


It’s all your fault they are gone.
So think to yourself,
‘What Have I done?’


I ask you...
Am I pretty now?
 May 2014 Presence
lia
hunger
 May 2014 Presence
lia
hunger is a blade that carves me
i open my arms and pull the air in
-big hug!-
then ****, right through me, nobody there.
it's only me holding myself.
my arms wrap two times
around my ribs,
meet behind my back for a secret
handshake.
i am not what was expected.
i'm so sharp-
it's cut me now i'll cut you.
come closer
closer
no, come closer
i'm gonna make you see what i see
 May 2014 Presence
The Motherland
I feel her there sometimes
Sometimes silent, sometimes not

When she is silent the emptiness is
Oppressive
And makes my skull feel heavy and weak
And my thoughts clouded with
The groping fingers of all that ask,
"Are you okay?"

When she screams, I am filled
To the brim with panic and chaos
That spews from her maw in
Tangled, writhing masses

The sound is almost angelic.
Is she heavenly?

I have never seen her but I know what she looks like.
It is a knowing feeling, or an overexcited imagination?
Long, tangled black hair,
Something is caught in the snarls and curls.
A pale face whiter than bone,
Thin and fragile like china.

Hands clawed and twisted,
Feet swollen and scarred.
A white dress long in tatters slipping off the bony shoulder

please take me back,
take me home

I plead but there are no words
Comprehensible to my human
(However extraordinarily mutated)
Brain
That leave her cracked lips.
 May 2014 Presence
The Motherland
A moon beam glides along the soft covers of my skin.
Let the moon make me mad, I thought,
For there is no fear in what is known.
I beckon the sermons of wild men
To settle in among the cracks of my skull.
Spirals and stars may rest on my hands
For a mind barren and lonely
Holds not a life worth living.

Let darkness flood my life and dampen empty
Hopes with beauty and love.
I shall not stray from what is destined for me,
For I will play neither God nor Satan in this farce
Of innocent freedom and dizzying thought.

I do not fear madness, I fear the emptiness
Of logic and rationality.
For how can there be joy in knowing
How it'll end?
Found this on a scrap of paper written in the middle of the night a few months ago when the moon was shining right on my bed as a bright strip and I flung open the curtains and blinds and window to see it
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