I was scared afraid I didn't know what was going to happen
What should I do I am afraid Help!!!!
I need someone to talk to why well I was RAPE!!!!!!!
It happens to people like someone in my family
We were hurt, what should we do we are afraid so is she
We don't know what to do this happens alot
I need help
I got RAPED
thanks poemgirl123
I get frustrated. I dont think things are worthless, but time starts affecting me different
when I see how things can be better. I struggled all my life for a taste of what it means
to be successful, but all that did was make me feel worse. Now I gotta take care of things;
it's hard being the youngest and people looking at you for what has to be done. It hurts going
against myself; I wanna be selfish but I dont wanna see them homeless. They work hard.
We all do. I guess I gotta just keep it pushing. 2 legs. 2 arms. Nothing terminal. So I guess
mental stress is better than 90% of peoples lives. Even if im in the top 10%, im in the bottom
10% too. 3 busses to school and ambition only taught me it never lets up, so dont hold
your hand out waiting for water that only comes when it rains.
Im Inspired by my Ma. She did what she had to to give us the bare minimum. I won't
allow anything to become a burden for her. She didn't deserve the position she was put in,
maybe I don't either; But I won't let her suffer regardless.
I have been hiding it for a while,
Battling, fighting to win a raging war.
I try to hide it with a smile,
This predicament I did not predict before.
You do not know what I have been through.
You do not know what has happenned to me.
It spread to all my thoughts like the flu,
Why will it not just let me be.
I cannot take this anymore,
I have tried everything, but I have lost the war.
I am now bleeding from my core,
My heart was just too sore.
But, by the time you finish reading,
It will be far too late.
I will have stoppped breathing,
I will be standing by the golden gates.
important or not
school is hot
its how youl know youl make it
its how we know you care
its how we say youre worth it
its how you come prepare
education is the nation
the nation we thrive from
its the place we belong
its life
its power
its wealth
its an apportunity to make a difference
be different
give education its appreciation
its who we will be
its how we see
its how we think
its how we see the world without a blank.
I saw you in class today
And I took notice of the venomous words you did say.
You didn't know though because I kept up a front.
Playing the hear no evil, speak no evil stunt.
See, a lot of people buy into my quiet kid act
but, if I really showed people my opinions how then would they react?
I try to look busy so I don't have to give my opinion.
Afraid of becoming socially martyred.
What I'm really trying to say is those three words
Confession is the first part to admitting a problem, but I'm so disturbed,
So here it goes I-...I-..I hate Confrontation! there it's out.
Always afraid someone has a stronger argument, so in mine I doubt.
Afraid that "the Man" wants to beat me down until my words are left black and bruised.
Like the rookie couldn't take the heat, game over, I lose.
Fearful to let words charge out of my mouth just to have them
retreat or be beaten down.
Call me the Cowardly Lion, I should stand up but I ask, "how?”
“What do they have that I don't got?...Courage" I can see that scene in my head now,
Why not stand for Truth? I can hear my thoughts say,
I know what is just, right, and good, it lies deep within my soul every day,
This uncertainty is unsettling with in me,
as I picture everyone with their evil devices binding them, begging to be free,
Can I stand like David before Goliath and face this?
the odds may be against me but, can I do this?
It's hard to say...It's hard to speak.
I have a view and I have a voice no matter how small or weak,
I am no bystander, just a silent witness to injustice,
a silent witness to the heart breaks that pile up among us,
Tell Simon and Garfunkel I can no longer listen to the sound of silence,
I want to heal and help people out of this spiritual violence,
Let my voice be a resounding cry of my Father's love,
a fountain of truth that flows steadily and naturally to the people's ears
....Let them listen to my opinion.
-Kim Cornell
Eat dessert or drink sugary coffee but don’t guilt yourself into working off those calories.
Bake the cakes with your loving mom as the sunset spills its colors in the messy kitchen
but don't worry about the amount of sugar you consumed from licking your fingers.
Be careless, don’t clean up the spilled flour until the decorating has been done.
Tell her you love her even if she’s managed to burn three vanilla cakes into those that resemble dark chocolate cakes.
Wear the crop top that may show the rolls of love you have on your stomach.
The love for warm bread as it comes out of the oven
or melty cheese as it lays with grease on pizza.
Stop changing your outfits to fit with the voice in your head that says
You must not consume any calories today because you reached your weeks limit last night.
Ignore the voice telling you to vomit your guilt into the bathroom toilet tonight,
listen to your tongue as it thanks you for the delightful treat it earned after talking out loud in class earlier today.
Find joy in the bright colors of the food around you and don’t be afraid to try something new.
Color your hair the way you colored the driveway with chalk in third grade.
Invent a new rainbow where ocean blue is first,
followed by grape medicine purple,
cherry chapstick red, so sweet you make yourself sick,
sticky note yellow,
and finally, Tennessee Vols orange, your granddad’s who passed away last year favorite.
Ask your grandmother about your extended family,
show the documented photos of your cousins from age one to age forty-one.
Love the people who have come and gone,
love the people who have loved and lost,
love and be loved by not only others but also yourself.
Be kind to everyone even the lady who didn’t tip you at work last week
and the coworker that is always late.
Remember where you came from,
show respect to those who once helped you
and to those who once hurt you.
Don’t hurt people who have wronged you.
Do not seek revenge; it is not healthy for the soul or safe for the mind.
Being right is never more important than showing love.
Listen carefully to others beliefs and challenge your own at least once.
Share your beliefs with a group who agrees and a group who disagrees.
Be confident in your passions but be respectful.
Pettiness is evil and will only take your mental health, leaving you lifeless at home.
Take the long way home, with the windows down on a 40 degree winters night,
as long as the volume to the music is higher than the temperature outside.
Drive until you run out of gas.
Drive into the mountains of North Carolina,
to the deserts of Arizona,
then back to the city of New York.
Pack the red suitcase with the patches falling apart at the seams.
Fill it with swimsuits, pajamas, dresses, and business suits.
Never say yes to anxiety, you don’t know what you’ll pass up.
Never say no to defeat, you don’t know how you’ll grow.
Never say yes to depression, you don’t know where you’ll find your worth.
Never say no to adventure, you don't know who you'll meet.
Say yes to the date.
Don't wonder if she is
masculine enough,
smart enough,
fit enough,
for your friends or family to approve of.
Be proud of who you are and seek approval from no one
other than your own heart as he beats for you.
Make a life for yourself,
Not for your parents or your siblings,
Not for your boyfriend or girlfriend,
Not for your boss or coworkers,
But for you, your mind, your heart, and your soul.
Listen to the songs the birds perform for you as you walk out on a sunny spring day,
feel the rocks beneath your feet as you walk into the river on a sticky summer night,
smell the autumn air in the night as you put out the campfire,
taste the cold as it fills your lungs in the dead of winter.
Make this life your own and invest in the nature around you.
I can not see what is in front of me.
I can not hear the things that are near.
But there is a difference between he and I,
That has become very clear.
You let the world tear me apart
The person you once told you loved with all of your heart.
The apple does not fall fast from the tree
is what you last said to me.
But I am not like you, I did not ignore the cries.
I saw the fake ones fall from your eyes.
With all of my anger and fears
I found myself above them with out any tears.
I actually made it out unlike you,
Who treated me like the bottom of his shoe.
I will be somebody,but not like you.
When if I am- I'll be the better one too.
A rigorous cohesion of the entire tristich
in the memoirs of the famous poet,
screaming like a madman seven exclamatory holophrases.
The voiced prevocalic embracing rhyme recalls
the persistent testimony of selfsome speech.
"I'm suffocating here, suffocating..."
To express the irritation,
echo the overwhelmingly crushing narrative.
The memoirist is guilty of life.
The writer's late peripheral activities:
grotesque little "fairytales"
with supraconscious symbolism of elevated eroticism.
"I'd lost my mind."
This vicious motif, the delirious phantasmagoria
decked out in whimsical wisdom.
With a half stroke- it's too much!
Damn.
Burn the writer, the biography, the myth.
Suicide prompted them to rethink the era of Romanticism.
A writer's life:
the "hard facts" and "beautiful lies" proclaimed erroneous
The authentic life of the poet,
opposed by the poet's own myth.
The poetic fact-
he, himself creates reality,
brings into existence and takes.
The most striking instance of suicide:
he shot himself.
Mythology is resignation to fate.
The leitmotif of myth is fate.
We are wheels;
We churn and we burn.
Grind and fight against gears.
We are oiled and greased
To work harder, stronger, longer.
We go up, we come down.
We face the light, we touch the ground.
We are connected.
We are kites;
Unwound and let free.
Twisting and dancing in the sky
Until a jolt,
A reminder of the tension,
Ties us back to the ground.
To the hands of another
Holding our spool of thread.
We are bound.
We are human;
We walk, talk, and eat.
Clothed in rags made of money.
We cry, sweat and bleed.
But are shushed by our brothers;
No one wants to hear your sobs,
Or songs, or salutes, or sorries.
We are a species of silence,
Although we talk so damn loud.
Deafened by the noise
That comes out of our mouths,
We demand and we scream.
But what do we hear?
The words in my head speak more than my speech.
They overflow.
A dam cracked and leaked.
On this paper, through this pen.
And they bleed
To the minds
So closed and sealed shut,
In an attempt to break the locks.
I speak to the hurt,
And I speak to the healed.
My words are a rehab with arms open wide.
We are together.
