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Literature Text
You yearned for friends,
You get them, (too fucking many)
Threw them away.
You ached for love,
You got it, (had it and fucked it)
Destroyed it.
You longed for a reason,
You got it, (too many damn reasons)
Now despise it.
You wanted help, care,
You got it, (got more then you deserved)
Didn't even try.
You needed an escape,
You got it, (took advantage)
Now, it's a mere addiction.
You get them, (too fucking many)
Threw them away.
You ached for love,
You got it, (had it and fucked it)
Destroyed it.
You longed for a reason,
You got it, (too many damn reasons)
Now despise it.
You wanted help, care,
You got it, (got more then you deserved)
Didn't even try.
You needed an escape,
You got it, (took advantage)
Now, it's a mere addiction.
Literature
Hate.
I hate myself.
I mean someone has to.
I look in the mirror and all I see,
Is someone ugly.
No matter how hard I try,
And no matter what I say or do,
I mess everything up.
Nothing goes right,
Everything goes wrong.
I can't do anything right.
I want to please everyone,
If I can't be happy then
I should at least make others happy.
I mess everything up.
I can't make anyone happy.
I hate myself.
So do me a favor,
And hate me too.
Because if you hate me,
Then I don't have to hate myself.
Literature
A Happy Ending
A stranger walked by a crying little girl,
Tear and blood stains on her sleeves
He asked, "Darling are you okay?" She nodded.
He took her heart and then took leave.
A small boy crossed the little girl,
Mascara crawling down her face,
He asked how she was and she sighed, "Fine."
He grabbed her toys and left with no trace.
A lonely mother glanced at the girl,
Bleeding out in the middle of the street.
She asked her nothing, too weighed down with grief,
And stole the shoes off the young girl's feet.
The girl's soul mate was crawling by,
Bleeding, in pain, with a fever hot.
When the girl lied and said she was okay,
He kissed her and
Literature
Held
When you took me from my petal
and cupped my frailty
between your hands,
it was like my chrysalis was back
and I am changing again.
It was just as warm as I
paintbrushed your palms
with my monarch wings.
You opened up your smallest fingers,
and I saw five hundred facets
of your child's eye.
I saw every angle of your innocence,
I saw the sheen on your corneas
when you flitted those threadbare wings.
I saw the shoebox with corners
like a prism.
And your call was so loud
when you carried me home.
And I witnessed
your five hundred pins,
and five hundred books.
With five hundred fingers you
pinched me out,
and held me to brutal surgery.
I can
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wow....