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Pink RibbonPink ribbon of support and care
Constant reminders always there
Purple hair bow clipped on
The memories will always dawn
Make up streaked along the face
Where confused tears had chosen to place
Memories perch inside the heart
Always reluctant with them to part
Sadness always replaces emotion
Giving way to new devotion
Friends and family lend their ears
Letting you spill all your fears
Tears are given comfort and welcome
After days you seem numb
But the signs keep returning
And the tears they are yearning
Though your emotions make your head spin
Through the end, the future will begin.
In the StormDark clouds, gangly, looming over
Streets of asphalt, fields of clover
Quarter sized drops of rain
Splatter along the streets once again
People closing all of their doors
Families retire to household chores
Thunder will roll, lightning across the sky will crack
From outside journeys, we all turn back
The darkened clouds do the sky clear of
A bright new rainbow spreading above
Colors stretch both ways for miles
Evolving frowns into newborn smiles.
On Hallow's EveCome follow us into the corn maze
Through bristly leaves of corn we'll gaze
As night goes on the dead will raise
And turn the silence into craze
All On Hallow's Eve
The full moon looms high in the sky
And parting clouds begin to pass by
The darkest night will cloud your eye
All On Hallow's Eve
Screams begin to stir the rats
The sky soon fills with screeching bats
And you will spot the smooth black cats
All On Hallow's Eve
The disastrous night you will spend
Searching for your friend
Too early for the end
All On Hallow's Eve
The chaos has grown silent
The dead have come and went
A spooky night well spent
The End. Of Hallow's Eve...
Cry Me RealLet me cry. I'll cry me real.
My emotions. This is how I feel.
Don't tell me again. I know.
But even if you are right. The hurt, it will always show.
Don't listen to them. That is what they all say.
But I am not going to try. That game, I will not play.
This is who I am. That I am of sure.
These tears let go my innocence, a sign of being pure.
Don't tell me they don't mean it. For that just is not true.
You probably would cry as well, if they said it to you.
I don't just want to shrug it off. That just would not be right.
I will not stand up to them, but I will not go without a fight.
My tears, they bring me comfort, in a way no words can do.
So please don't try to stop me. It is something unchangeable by you.
Me.I am insecure.
My hair isn't completely straight.
My eyes are not normal.
I don't smile a lot.
My makeup isn't perfect, nor is my skin.
I have big feet and I tower over many friends.
I cry a lot and let my emotions get the best of me.
I hurt easily.
I have braces.
My teeth do not touch in the front.
I am quiet.
I don't talk in class.
I can't stand up for myself.
My chest is small.
But I am a person and I DO have feelings. If you belittle and disrespect me....You are less of a person. Because I am ME, so like it or not, that is the way it is.
InsanityThe whispering is back. Soft, loud, inaudible. Whispering. I look around and no one is there. The whispering goes on. Secrets, warnings, reminders. I try to pay attention, but the voice just becomes incomprehensible. Who are you!? No one answers. Speaking to myself. Wondering aloud. What are you saying? What do you want? The voice continues. Close in my ear now. I look around. Still no one. Why are you talking? Where are you!? Nothing. Just me. No one else. Loss of my sanity. The whispering goes on.
The gentleman with the paper napkin rose!Lonely and heart broken,
I was that night.
I walked out of my hotel room,
right into the bar and into it's magical atmosphere,
beautiful belly dancers,
I sat down and got me a drink,
wanting to drawn,
all of my feelings,
my love, my life.
wanting to be cold,
not wanting to feel anything,
betrayal is a painful
thing to remember!
So I wanted the ability to forget,
since forgiving was much too soon
for my broken heart.
So intense was this pain,
many years later
I still carry it's scars.
and without looking I was at the distance,
welcomed by someone's interest...
There he was looking at me,
and for the longest time
I could not look away, I got hypnotize
by his Indian eyes...
From a paper napkin he made me a flower,
I thought of this detail for hours.
He walked to me and reached for my hands,
placing the object of his creation between my fingers.
He must have made this flowers a thousand times,
because as he did,
he never stopped looking at my eye
... and nobody cares.Can you see these empty eyes, screaming for help? No you can't.
Oh come on, you're not sick! I can't see it! Your answer was. You're thinking of me as a malingerer, don't try to tell me otherwise. You think I'm one of the comfortably sick to get through life easy.
Have you ever asked yourself why you (still) live? What is worth for living? When all problems hail down on you at once and you threaten to suffocate, seeing all your plans and dreams destroyed, you won't consider giving up, don't you?
Come get your ass up, lazy f*ck and get a job again, I once heard you yelling at me. Afterwards I'm asking myself – do you, so called friend, even know me at all? Do you know that the pressure of my past has crushed me into an unstable pile of mood swings, suicide thoughts and psychosomatic sickness? Probably not, because if you'd know me you wouldn't hurt me with your words.
But there are loads of therapists out there, don't whine into my ears any longer, go get your hea
everything is temporaryi have never been one to yell, it hurts my throat, or maybe i just lack the passion to get that mad at something. you always did bring out things that i never knew were inside though. we had matching bloodshot eyes, and the same fuck the world attitude running through our veins as if the world owed us something. it didn't then. but it does now. my blood is thick and burning and i want to try and flood it into yours to get the colour back into your cheeks that i just watched drain. i kicked the wall, and opened the window and screamed at the sky-scrappers and i don't know how the world can just keep fucking turning without so much a skipped rotation or a fucking stutter.
you turned small, minor things into giant fucking events that made my chest even tighter. a tickle in my throat, a spreading wildfire on the nape of my neck, a distinct lack of words or feelings to anything more than a lingering heaviness. i lost count of how many times i contemplated stepping in front of that car, bus,
The Privileged Feminist and the WomanShe was a feminist, born free,
while she was a woman born over seas.
She was the feminist who went to school,
while she was the woman who paid unrightful dues.
She was the feminist who went to college,
while she was the woman forced to work without knowledge.
She was the feminist who preached her corrupted views,
She was the woman whose homeland was on the news.
She was the feminist who spoke her annoying mind,
She was the woman who could only be at peace inside.
She was the feminist who could walk freely,
She was the woman that would get beaten weekly.
She was the feminist who blamed men for everything,
She was the woman who was forced to bare men's offspring.
She was the feminist who could chose her life
She was the woman who didn't make it past twenty five.
She is the feminist who is blind to the world,
who only cares for herself, her life is like a pearl,
She is the woman who cannot show her face,
as an excuse to be modest, faithful and chaste.
She is the feminist who is ignorant t
fellow adventurers and others who want to donti know its been a long time sense she commited suicide but i just recently found out about Amanda Todd the poor girl she just couldnt handle it anymore i wanted to say that it gets better i should know and today im gonna tell you my story
it was an ordanary day in the dew household yes dew as in mountain dew anyway i was deppresed tho that wasnt unusual for me knowing my past it was diffrent this time it was like my deppression was worse then ever i went into my brothers old room to look at pictures because hes at collage so i was missing him then i noticed his clouset was open now ya see he had a real sword in that clouset and i saw it i thought to myself i-its to much i cant handle it anymore i picked the sword up and almost drew it getting ready to drive it right through my 9 year old chest but then i thought to myself why am i doing this all its gonna do is make my family missrable and i dont
The ScientistCome up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I'll set you apart
Roni was excited for her new best friend to finally come over. I was never good at talking to others, so I wasn't excited. I unplugged the airbed from the pump, quickly closing the seal so air wouldn't get out. A knock at the door showed that Roni's friend was here. I peeked out from the hallway, looking at the stranger from my hiding spot.
She was beautiful.
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming in tails
Heads on a science apart
Roni fell asleep around midnight, Chass was a night owl, so she was still up. Me and her had been talking for the past few minutes. Trying to get to know each other. I was falling in love. Days passed, weeks, we were both really close by now. I wanted to ask her out, but, I was just to nervous.
What if I was just a friend to her?
4 Dead ChordsI’m here, with the darkness embracing me, trying to sleep. My eyes, full of tears, want to sleep, listening to those things that makes me feel bad in the middle of the night, listening to my thoughts written by other mind, but are mine. I know the reason of the sad midnight, when the sky has closed the window and no one can see the spirits, walking lonely roads.
Maybe I took another wrong way, or the wrong way took me, with a beautiful smile and deep black eyes, asking me if I was truly happy all this time without Starlight; I wasn’t, those days were wasted moments in my life. There’s nothing to see inside a womb, where you are isolated and peaceful with yourself, thinking about the day you had.
I’m drowning in memories, and cry, the droplets that my lung has.
Come With Me~I snuck out somewhere last night. I do every night. I go to a wonderful place, somewhere no one knows.
You should come with~
I love it there. It has it's ups and downs- but it really is a nice place.
Better than you can image~
It changes almost every night. It can be really bright and fun, then the next night I have to run for my life.
Are you on your way?~
I can be pleasured- or in pain. I can be happy- or depressed. I can fear- or be feared. I can be trying to save everyone from a burning house- or be starting the fire.
It might hurt- and I can't say it'll get better~
It could be a really romantic night- or I could be getting ready for murder.
So lets go get ready~
Do you want to know where this place is?
You might regret it- but I know we'll have fun~
Are you sure you really want to know?
You can't run now~
I snuck out somewhere last night. I do every night.
You should come with~
You should come with me to Dream
Dear YouDear You,
It isn't fair that we are safe here, and everyone seems to be eager to get out and see more action, while other people are stuck amidst danger, trapped in a black hole, hurting so much.
I always hear people say they want to be something, go places. They all want out. They don't understand how lucky they are to be secure in this little town.
Things are not anywhere near how bad things can be out There. People dying everyday, others having to fight for every minute that comes next. Here, people don't know that what they see on the news could be happening to us. They do not understand what its like to hurt, not compared to other people out There.
I do not understand how people here can complain about stupid things like too much homewrok or losing their cellphones. They do not deserve
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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