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RebeccaI hate you,
I hate you,
You stole his heart,
I'll never have a chance with him,
You stole his heart.
You stole his mind so he can only think of you,
He will never think about me,
All he will think about is the time you spent together,
I hate you,
I hate you,
You stole his mind.
You stole his eyes,
So when he looks at me he sees right through me,
When he looks at the house all he thinks about is how you were here, you were there,
His eyes compare me to you,
I hate you,
I hate you,
You stole his eyes.
You stole my happiness,
I never knew you Rebecca,
But everyone compares me to you,
The housekeeper, the servants,
Forever devoted to you,
I hate you,
I hate you,
You stole my happiness.
ConfusedHow am I supposed to feel?
It is hard not to cry,
Not to scream and shout,
How are you supposed to feel
when the little girl you spent all your time playing with,
Suddenly becomes a boy.
When she wants to be called he,
When she says call me Cody,
When one day she walks through the door and she is not a woman anymore
What are you supposed to do?
You want to be supportive,
But all you feel is shock,
All traces of that girl is gone,
But is she still there inside?
Is the little girl I grew up with still there?
Will I ever see her again?
My whole perspective is shifted and I am thrown on my face.
I am not sure how to act around you anymore,
Afraid to offend,
Afraid of the fact that I don't understand,
What it is your thinking,
What it is your going through,
I am confused with how I feel, what am I supposed to do?
When all I want to say is she, she,
And all you want is he, he,
How did I not see this to start with?
Why I am so confused?
What do you want me to do?
Dexter MorganMy darkness follows me whenever I go
I cannot tame it
I cannot even give a name to it
It always controls me.
No matter how much I want to get rid of it I cannot
No matter how much I want to be normal, I will not be
Until I have this dreadful dark passenger away from me.
I cannot sleep at night
Killing occupies my every thought
Even if they deserve to die
Society views it as wrong.
I pretend to be normal
I pretend to have a soul
I pretend to be a human
Even though I am not one.
Why has the human's god
Chosen this path for me?
Why must I live with the fact
that I am a monster
And always will be one.
Easy= BoringIf life was so easy
I'm not exactly sure where I would be
Would I ever work to achieve my dream?
Or would I have it just handed to me?
If life was so easy
I wonder if I would have worries or cares
What would that feeling be,
To never have thoughts occupy my brain
Would I just be a mindless blob?
Forever content with lackluster?
Would life even be worth living anymore?
If life was so easy
If life was so easy
Would I even be inspired to write these words?
Or would I just waste all my thoughts away?
Would I ever have any thoughts at all?
If like was so easy
I think I'd rather not live at all
If life was so easy
Stop HurtingIt's easier to hurt someone,
But it's harder to be the one hurting.
It's hard to see the faces they make when you walk away,
Or when you say something.
It's hard to feel like your not included in anything,
Your too shy to stand up and speak for yourself
When you finally get up the courage to speak,
What do you say?
It's hard to trust someone
It's hard to depend on someone
When all you can think about is how will they hurt you,
How do you keep it from happening?
You become a shadow of yourself,
You see weakness in someone else,
So you smash it in order to feel better.
I wish I could make myself feel better,
So I could help someone else.
I wish I could not get caught up in the cycle,
I wish I could get myself out.
DrowningDoes it even matter what I think anymore?
Does anyone even care?
It seems no matter how hard I try,
No one seems to understand.
All I want is for someone to see below the surface,
I'M NOT OKAY,
I feel like I could scream it in your face,
Muster up the courage to put it in a text,
I could write it on the small of your back with my fingers,
I could cut long scars on my arms,
If it will only get you to see...
I want to let you in,
I want to shove you away.
I don't know to how to help myself,
How are you supposed to help me?
I think about suicide like a normal girl thinks of icecream,
It's a thought that never goes away.
All I can think of is the anger, frustration, the hurt, the pain, the emptiness,
I feel empty,
I feel like there is nothing here.
Why can't I get anyone to see?
Why can't you understand...?
That I am drowning,
And I can't save myself.
Self DiscoveryI just need some time to breathe,
I'm not sure what's inside of me,
Not sure how to channel all the anger, all the pain
Not sure how to take care of myself.
I'm not sure if needing someone is good or bad,
I feel like free falling backwards,
And there is nothing there to save me.
If I ever crash, will be there be someone to miss me?
Someone who will care?
Is there something I can do
To make the hurt go away,
To make the emptiness cease,
To make me feel like I'm worth something again
Will I ever learn the true meaning of being me?
Love- Stupid Title, Overused-The soft sounds of your breathing,
The sound of your heart beating inside your chest,
The smile that never leaves your face when you're with me,
The love the swells up inside of me.
Is it really possible to love something as much as I love you?
The soft sound of your voice as it calls to me,
The sweet taste of your lips as they touch mine
The tenderness of your skin against my skin
Love is different than anything I have ever known.
It's a feeling that no matter how many words I think of to describe it, I can't think of one that hits it just right,
Not one word can describe what you make me feel inside,
Not one moment can sum up everything I feel,
Love is something you can't just say.
I feel in right here in my heart,
The heart that aches for you when you are away,
The heart that beats so loudly when you are close,
The heart that won't let anyone else near it.
My love is only for you, and you only,
My love, my only.
The Wisdom of A ChildThere I was at the orphanage that day, and there I came across a little boy;
A little boy, who did not wear the face of a child, but instead a face of pain.
I turn to the teacher at the orphanage and I ask, "Who is that sad little boy?"
The teacher doesn't even have to look up to know who I am speaking of,
"That's Tyler." She said, "He's from Haiti." I walk towards the little boy, and I ask
"Why are you so sad?" Tyler just looked at me and said, "Let me tell you my story."
I was running, running so far away, I could feel the soles of my shoes breaking,
but I had to get myself away from that place. It was never my home.
I thought of their faces, a clear picture ran across my mind.
My mother's smile, my sister's dimple, it just pushed me to run even faster;
I had to run away.
That very nigh
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
DethronedI have created Eden, through the strokes of my pen,
But it was made of promises, and angels
That were too fragile to hold the weight of our sins.
You were my goddess, on a throne made of dreams.
Which you were probably
They didn't glimmer and shine
like the diamonds decorating your rings.
They were the hopes of a man
So madly in love, but you poured poison into his heart
And so he rotted, each time you gifted him with a kiss.
DifferentDifferent on the outside,
Different mask you see daily,
Different girl you call ‘Hailey’
To my surprise
Your ears are distracted,
So I tell lies, looking into your eyes,
“Yea I’m fine. Simply tired”
For that response my brain is wired.
Different mouth you hear speaking,
Different voice you hear screaming
Different eyes you see pleading,
Different person you’d befriended
I’m sorry this is how it’s ended.
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
Saving my BabyBaby how I am supposed to love you,
How am I supposed to take care of you?
When you won't let me in.
I try so hard to so to show you that you can depend on me,
To be the shoulder you can lean on
All I want is for you just to let me see what you're feeling,
No matter how hard I push,
I am pushed back even farther.
Baby how are we supposed to be together,
When we can't communicate?
When I can't be let in when your hurting?
My heart breaks because I can't help you,
My soul is dying because you won't even give me a chance.
Baby I love you
Please let me in
I am crying out for you to let me out of the darkness on the outside,
And let into the light of your heart.
Baby if you don't let me in,
How are we supposed to get through?
How can you truly love me,
When I can't be let in to see the hurt that your hiding from me,
When I am shoved away for trying...
Baby what would you have me do?
I'm trying to save us,
I'm trying to save you...
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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