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Now.Look at me dead in the eye.
What would you see?
Don't hold me accountable for someone I use to be.
You broke me, but I was already on the ground.
Every stitch in my mind and heart, for every blow you made.
But look at me now.
I stood up
I became strong
I got on my feet and hands and crawled back to who I was.
I would never let my wounds convert me into something I am not.
So if you're looking for another play doll to spit at,
I can't be that role anymore.
I went through beyond hell and never gave up to be where I am, who I am, and what I have today.
I'll leave behind my footsteps of the past,
As I am walking towards the future.
And you can get lost in them,
For all I care.
Our Hearts Tied.Close your eyes
Take my hand
And enter a magical wonderland.
Time is fast, life is tough
Like bitter water waves as thick and rough.
People are cruel, demons are shrewd
All you see are cynical feuds.
But let's close our eyes, clasp hands and pray
To love and live for another day.
Like a flower in a meadow, like a shell on sand
Our hearts tied, brings beauty to this land.
With your tears and sighs, you ask me why..
Well I love you for a reason, didn't I?
Cruxifiction of The AngelHer heart washed pure of sins. Walked the lonely paths of purgatory. Felt neglected as if no one bothered to give her a smile. She came across a demon. He gave his love to her and took her in. Not knowing it was a trap she gave him her heart and came to life. Condemned for what she believed in. Sentenced to be charred for her merciful actions, her spirit now belongs to the cross. A soul who loved everyone and now she hears the death toll ring. Bewitched by the devil and possesed by evil, overwhelmed her. Forced against her will to do not what she have wished. "Forgive me Lord" was her final words as her body was nailed to the cross as a victory for Satan.
Perfectly Imperfect.They have imperfections. Flaws too easily seen. Bruises run up their arms. Cuts stream down their faces. Their hearts are pure as artic water and blossom like gorgeous newborn flowers. They never thought love was possible and believed that only good things happen to perfect people. But perfect people never cry, never drink, never hurt, and never exist. And if you see with your heart, and listen with your eyes, you can see a lot more beauty than ever imagined before. How would've you ever found out they had hearts if you never had one yourself?
EntwineI sit at the edge of a cliff. My feet dangle off.
I'll close my eyes, listen to my soul breathe
And my heart pump
And drift away with the wind.
I'll feel the clouds devour my being
And listen to the air swirl in my lungs and errupts out of my throat.
I'll be safe, as long as the wind carries me and the sky watches over me
As long as the moon lights my way and the stars do not lie.
I'll land in a vast ocean of dreams
And of my wishes.
I'd wish for love, for family, for something with beauty within.
And if I open my eyes now,
What will I see?
HumanA dried up leaf.
Me: Someone that couldn't hang onto life anymore.
Me: Someone who found their place in this world.
A rotting bud on a tree
Me: Someone is letting go and it's time.
A little girl catching a flying rose petal.
Me: Someone who found their heart.
A little boy holding hands with another boy.
Me: Something beautiful and magical that can never be judged.
A bird leaving its nest.
Me: Someone brave enough to find their path.
A runaway child.
Me: A bond was torn.
Me: A human.
WingsI saw someone who wasn't confident enough. Who couldn't stand up for what they believed in. You couldn't stand on your two feet, and when you did you fell. It was cute to watch, but I always tried to stand you upright. You were always bashful and couldn't fly. But I became your wings and was determined to give you a boost. I held you close, for the time we had together was limited. When it was time, you became your own wings, bid a farewell to your home, and took off. The wind became your heart, your soul spreaded away amongst the clouds.
It took a while for you to learn to run and be free, and when you did, you were long gone.
So fly away my dear and never come back. I miss you very much, but there comes a time when you have to sacrifice and let go. And if you don't come around, you were never mine to begin with.
A Pretty Little ThingShe puts herself above others. Twists the hearts of those around. Corrupts the mind and brings it to total, bottomless darkness. And creates chaos so skillfully, it's as if every drop of blood is a work of art. She kills without mercy and dances the night away with a knife in her hand. She weaves impurity into the veins of the poor and reap the souls of children.
She never realized her actions, until one day the town folks prepare for a burn at stake.
Some say she practices witchcraft, some say she was born evil. Some say she was the daughter of Satan.
I watch as her body diminishes into ashes and her spirit burns away with the flames. It leaves behind a crimson aura, so tranquil and enchanting.
Oh my. What a shame. I thought she was a pretty little thing.
The Boy and The BlindfoldI'm sitting on the sidewalk of the street with a friend.
We both saw a child crossing the street.
A car was coming fast, honking its horn at the boy.
He only stood there
And shut his eyes.
I ran out to the streets, pushed the boy out of the way, and grabbed his shoulders.
I shook him and yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU, MAD?! COULD YOU NOT SEE NOR HEAR THE CAR COMING?!"
"I can hear the car coming. But not see."
I stared in his eyes, bewildered. But realized,
This boy was blind.
"BUT YOU DIDN'T RUN WHEN YOU HEARD THE CAR?"
"You don't understand life, don't you?" He shook off my grip and walked away. I was confused yet furious.
I have just saved his life yet he says I don't understand it. I come over to my friend. "Did you see that? I JUST SAVED HIS LIFE AND THAT'S ALL HE SAYS TO ME!"
"Maybe he did it for a purpose. There's a purpose behind every action."
"Pft. I don't see a purpose for standing in the street and waiting to be torn by a car."
"Hey, can you turn around for me please?"
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Are Me, But I Use to be YouYou take away lives
You pillage homes
You destroy beauty
For it is a ritual.
For it is a traditional game.
You come home
Beaten and tattered
Shirt bloodstained and dignity shattered.
You look in the mirror, your past asks you,
"What do you see?"
"I don't know anymore."
Your past stares intensely in your eyes in the mirror.
"It never had to be this way. You had someone who loved you dearly. You had people who adored you. You had a family who cared for you."
You look up in the mirror with rage.
"What do you know about care? What do you know about love? Everyone fears me. Even You fear me..."
"I never feared you. I was sad because you pushed me away. I died and never came back."
You bunch your hand into a fist and smash the mirror and watches as it shatters to a million pieces and the splinters jab into your flesh.
You collapse to the ground.
"You are me. But I use to be you."
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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