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lablespeople tell me
i'm an idiot
well is any of it a lie
do i have to live up to your expactations
should i have to deal with you
yes i'm different
but do you have to label me
do you have to juge me
do you have to stereotype me
why can't i be who i am
why can't i be me
who are you to tell me
NumbI feel so numb
I just wish for
To be real
To feel alive
All my life I've fealt dead
To feel that pain
As the razor slices across my wrist
The relif as air floods ito my suffocated lungs
The high as the needle pirces my skin
I need something
They say I'm sick
I need to get better
but they never noticed
The scars on my wrists
The bruses on my throte
The needle marks on my arm
It's their fault
And now It's much to late
I'm in to deep
I can't go back from here
They say they understand
But when they wher little
They never thought of
Plunging a knife into thir heart
They never wondered about
Holding a gun to thir head
They never felt this numb
They never felt the high
After pircing their arm with a neelde
And never will
Don't try to help me
It's to far to late
Worlds DividedJamie sat at the edge of her chair waiting as the clock ticked by. 'Only five more minutes,' she thought. Tick-Tock Tick-Tock. It was realy annoying waiting as the teacher just droaned on and on. Jamie tapped her pen on the desk to pass the very slow moving time. Tick-Tock. The teacher went n about the founding ov our nation and all kinds ov shit like that. Tick-Tock. Jamie gathered her books just in time for the bell to ring. She grabbed her books and rushed out of the room like the other twenty five students.
"I realy don't feel like going to my locker." She said to herself. Jamie pushed her way throught the hall way to the door, outside Sarah and Jessica where waiting on the steps for her. Jamie quickly stached her books in the bag she always wore arround her sholder. The bag had a gun splattered in blood printed on it. Sarah and j
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.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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