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Watch it End
Let me walk away,
Watch as my path starts to stray.
No longer reaching,
My throat is raw from preaching and beseeching.
Afraid of speaking,
I'll close my eyes and keep on running.
Days of crying,
Constantly stopping and waiting.
The adoration is stretching thin.
I supposed now it's sink or swim.
However in the end,
Everything we worked for-
Will simply, be abandoned.
Our FateI'm bleeding, but some how you can't see.
Tumbling, stumbling, crying.
Though you no longer care or want to see.
Thought this was how it was meant to be.
You and Me.
That's what this was.
That was you and I.
UglyU nless I see the beauty you notice,
G uess I'll still believe I'm worthless.
Lovely can't be used to describe me.
You see a gorgeous personality,
But, I'll still say everything you see is merely ugly.
Messed Up Girl
I'm not special, but I resemble a piece of scrap metal.
Each glance towards the mirror is a war, yet I challenge the monster more and more.
I harbor a priceless frown, and I'll always let you down.
Judging stares for this whore, for walking out the door.
Shaking bones are molding, and a broken sling isn't holding.
Another woman's body is bliss, but that's what he may miss.
I'm sorry for changing because I thought I was managing.
Goodbye sweet girl; close your eyes, this is were the story undoes it's ties.
Wave farewell, yet got back what I gave.
Still RawNausea rising in her stomach,
As her new lips taste his chap-stick.
Three months down the road,
And the wound is still raw.
Her nails became her claws.
Oblique cuts rest on her arms,
Yet concealed by the fabric stretched tight across her skin,
No one ever saw the monster she was letting in.
And so her tears never stopped,
She kept on bleeding- Drop by drop,
The adrenaline rush was kicking in, and soon it would begin again,
The slashing motion shall never stop.
Drop by drop,
Hell was her stop.
As a scarlet bracelet, the twisted liquid lay still around her wrist,
Whispering dreams she hadn't wished,
No longer breathing,
Her life would be missed.
Second BestThe wind whispers' are such a sweet sound.
A gentle kiss that glides off arctic lips.
"Es wird in Ordnung Liebling sein."
Divert discernment towards damaged portions of enduring concrete.
Revoke sympathy, empathy, a childhood memory.
"Sarà il tesoro giusto."
Roses lay beneath the earth,
Scent the cobble that stills the air.
"Det vil være okelskling."
Envious glances represent beautifully.
Clenching anxiety as the sparrow sings.
"Het zal Ok lieveling zijn."
Happiness is a color-blind gift.
Yearning drops down the strongest.
Ich bin am zweitbesten.
Sono secondo migliore.
Jeg er andre best.
Ik ben tweede best.
I am second best.
The Moral of WordsPersistence is a stubborn thing, made up of will and courage
Insistence is a pestiferous thing, all lips and talk and sometimes with no knowledge
Resistance is a rebellious thing, feet firmly and sometimes violently in the ground, against the flow
But Perseverance is a quiet thing, to be resilient, against all odds, brought down from times of old.
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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