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Literature Text
Tell me again, Father,
I’m the perfect daughter-
when all I want to be
is the crescent moons
resting like strong soldiers
in the grooves of my palms.
I am but
(outgrown)
lonely bones,
quaking with frostbite,
numbed with rage.
A wolf's jaw:
locked, teeth tearing
into the chilled flesh
of your neck.
I’m the perfect daughter-
when all I want to be
is the crescent moons
resting like strong soldiers
in the grooves of my palms.
I am but
(outgrown)
lonely bones,
quaking with frostbite,
numbed with rage.
A wolf's jaw:
locked, teeth tearing
into the chilled flesh
of your neck.
Literature
Remember Your Dues
Remember Your Dues:
You think you can forget it;
As soon as you forget it,
Believe you will regret it,
Relieved of all your credit.
Your honour and your lifestyle,
Curled around my knife while-
You sit and play your games,
Thinking everything's the same.
But I'm watching and I'm waiting;
This patience suffocating,
But it's worth the while I'm waiting
For this hatred I am facing.
You thought it was forever,
And so you did endeavour;
To pretend the chains and ties,
That bind you; they have died.
But the fact is you have lied;
Forgotten where you're tied.
The markings on your side,
Remember why you hide!
But its too late for apologies;
The
Literature
Missing Pieces.
I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
Literature
Look Into the Lonely Mind
She sits alone,
Her thoughts chasing one another
In an endless game of tag.
Connections,
Understandings,
Things no one else can grasp.
Music and movies play,
Repeating themselves over and over.
Books have been written
Only to be forgotten.
Names with pictures,
Words with no voice,
Art that cannot be shown.
Communicating with words that make no sense
And trying to fit in,
Resulting in failure.
Admired by many,
Refused by them all.
Forever Alone...
A lie.
Beautiful and she knows it
But doesn't believe it.
A touch to liven,
A word to kill.
Confused by the answers
To the questions she asks.
Then it all comes back to...
Why?
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I'm a wolf in my dreams, sometimes.
Comments59
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From the first two lines, all I can think about is Ellen Hopkin's Identical. Gods, your writing is so edged with reality its difficult to find a single flaw in it. I love how you write. I hope I can write someday like you can.