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Mother is not a flowerSomeone once said, "A woman who chooses a life of motherhood is like a flower that dies to bare fruit. You may produce a delicious sweet juicy fruit. But than again it could turn sour. Or be eat away by bugs and animals. And possible picked too soon or too late. The future for the fruit will never be predicted by the flower. Is it worth wasting such fragile beauty?" I have my own hang ups on motherhood but I find this statement ( as enchantingly put as it is) ignorant. A flower is fragile yes. But we don't see it's strength, as it fights off wind, as it stands tall in harsh rain and heat. It goes all through this to bare a fruit. The fruits future is as it will be. Undecided until born. Like a child. In case you don't know where I'm going with this, women who choose to be a mother are not weaker for it. Most are stronger than any working woman or man. I doubt most people could handle a moms job. Dealing with a child 24/7 every day of the year. Some more than One kid. And how they came
The FeelingThe feeling.
Of goodness and sparks.
For me it's anticipation.
Like stepping out at a cliff and peering down.
Or up into the blue Sky after a rainy day.
I feel it in the back of my neck warm and tingly.
I want to clutch something tight in my hands.
Until they hurt.
My hands, I want them to hurt.
I want the pain to validate my feeling.
That it's not a dream.
This feeling is really happening.
It comes in waves for me.
Than I ease in to it.
It always feel good and bad.
It's rare so I treasure it.
Locking every little moment away in my memory.
It's my treasure.
Here is a story.Here is a story. There was once a girl. She was very innocent and believed that if she were to be good and obeyed what every one told her she would be happy. And intern they would be happy as well. But one day she was told not to do something, and as always she agreed and did not do that thing. But another adult came to her not a minute after the first and said to do that thing she was just told not to do. "But..." She cried out in confusion. The adult looked at her...He looked at her with mean angry eyes. For she had never disagreed with anyone. Why him? 'No'...he thought. And she went silent at his stare. There she sat, contemplating what to do. She had never gone against what she was told. So she knew not of punishment. Yet she felt pain in her chest. Soon she would have to do or not do what she was told. Standing where exactly she was told not to and too. She looked up at the sky, for maybe God had the answer. She was told God had all the answers, so he must have the answer to this
Well That SucksThis road I walk has no end.
I can longer turn back.
The path is lost in darkness.
I have forgotten my purpose,
But continue on blindly.
I follow no light.
Only darkness exist here.
There are many who walk a similar path.
But this one is mine.
No words are needed here.
Only thoughts are constant questions.
Can I ever escape my path?
Will I ever be freed of my choices?
Was I always alone?
Did I do this to myself,
Or was there someone who brought me?
Fear, saddness, love, happiness...
I felt these emotions once, right?
But all that is left is...nothing.
Have I found my roads end?
Can it really be all over?
Did I live good...
Was it worth it?
Will I ever truly know...
Let me sleep.
I wish to sleep.
Go into slumber
Never to awake,
And return to the World.
Laughter and smiles in my world.
Restless and tired I awake
Not wanting to see the alarm clock
Next to me.
Let me sleep.
I wish to sleep.
I don't want to see
The broken world outside my window.
Is She Lost ForeverChapter 15
"June." Someone is saying my name ahh my head huts it's like an echo? God everywhere hurts. "June are you ok?" Damn what happened why can't I remember anything? Wait no, I was walking home, then I was I was. "AHHHHH!!!" I sat up screaming flying my arms in front of me, hitting someone, tears running down my eyes. "JUNE! JUNE IT'S OK! YOU'RE SAFE!" I stopped; it's its Kevin. I open my eyes, yes its Kevin. I clung to his shirt and cried into his chest. " Oh god June, its ok I'm here now. You're safe now." He let me cry for hours, I ruined his shirt but he didn't care not at all. "Are you ok?" He said as I leaned on his chest, I hadn't said one word since I realized it was him I nodded. My throat hurt from crying and screaming. He rubbed my back and kissed my head, for I don't know how long. I needed to ask him something but how do I ask him that. "June, umm they didn't touch you. In that way. I got there just as you passed out, I did
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Take a step back, look past the details.
Stop focusing on all the necessary stuff.
Feel the world moving around you.
Keep an open mind to all the strange things.
Happy is easier than you think.
Sadness though, sadness is hard.
If you don't recognized it...
It will devour you.
Taking all your freedom.
Making you doubt yourself.
Forcing you to say,
"There is no way out."
But if you take a breath...
And one big step back.
You may see it all clearly.
Past all the lies.
Lies in the details you once accepted as fact.
Take a step back, than I suggest running.
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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