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Disappointed,..Stop telling me,..
I know, i should have been born a man
As your first child
I wish i could have been.
I, The SinnerI could never look into the eyes of any christain man
For he would just look into my eyes
And tell me what a sinner i am
Maybe someday i could find the courage to rise
FearI remember that one night
She came knocking on my bleeding heart
The moon shone in a rolling tear
As i stood gulping for sanity
I left promissing i'd come back to let her fix me
But i never went back,..
Mother Dear,..What have you done??My mother never did anything.
She never stopped him.
She just watched him destroy me.
Bringing my mind into destruction.
Breaking me down, bit by bit every day.
For years I remained in silence,
My tongue becoming rusty from never speaking.
The words THEY WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND!!! THEY DON'T CARE!!!
Were like ice cold waves crashing over and over on my mind,
But that never stopped the memories,..
it never stopped my thoughts,..
Burnt feelingsHer father quickly appeared in front of her,..blocking her, so she couldn't pass.
He started preaching to her again, and said that she should listen to God.
"You are NOT god!" She said with venom dripping from her words.
"But i am you father!" He grabbed her, and pulled her out of the door, hurting her frail arm as she tried to resist him.
She stood in the dimly lit court yard, watching as he threw oil over her beautiful creation, that she had been so proud of s few minutes earlier.
Then he lit it on fire, she just stood there, frozen,..unable to take her eye from the flames that was destroying her painting.
He commanded her to stand close to the fire,..she couldn't move.
He roughly grabbed her arm again, pushing her towards the fire,..
she twisted her body so she wouldn't fall into the flames.
"THAT COULD BE YOU BURNING IN HELL!!!!!" he shouted at her pointing to the fire.
Suddenly she became overwhelmed by anger.
She violently grabbed at plants in her mothers garden, ripping away a b
My Home, in my heartI will show you my home.
where the buildings are old,
and crumbling down.
But my heart is in the mountains,..
on the warm sandy beach,..
in the country, climbing a tree.
picking berries, with stained fingers,..
day dreaming under clouds.
writing about you,..
Your sweet eyes,..
and teasing voice,..
My Life Is Like a SuitcaseParanoia is me, as I lit another cigarette,,
Sorry for all my violent words,
there was something wrong,
there were too many shadows,
too many voices,
I packed myself away,
My life is like a suitcase,.
The sloppy teen hanging limply over the chair
black smudged eyeliner,
tired swollen eyes,
staring blankly at the computer screen,
hoping to find something,
to kill the pain,
only to find more pain,.
.unable to pull her fingers away from the letters that spell your name,
she can't even arrange the words that she writes about her life
My room is like wonderland to me,
but a junkyard to her,
I am the music blasting into my head,
I am a few stickers left on the wall,
I am a skeleton hiding in my own closet,
the way I always run my fingers through my hair,
memories in the glass windows,
All that I left behind in my prison,
crumpled beer cans, piled over the trash can,
the many price tags, I can never have enough,
some of my hair tangled into the carpet,
red lipstick on the cigarettes in the as
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