

f-itIm Afraid of tonightf-it
Unsure of tomorrow
Haunted by what has been
the hands that fed now scratch and choke spewing guilt and fear mirrors scream of self disgust please god, no-one can hear
days go by and everything becomes rituals of pattern...forced habit a need for control what happend to the simple life? AND so here i go...repeating over and over again...
*but we are all ugly- beautiful beneath our own vain skin*  


i cant writeJeans that have gotten to tight make me PANIC my own thoughts tear me limb from limb awaiting the emaciated world while i drown in my paini cant write
...i would BEAT out insecuirty.. if only i could...
Slammed the scale into the mirror Dreaming of the day i'll DISAPPEAR As the numbers go down and the days grow longer
I can feel myself becomming stronger and stronger You look at me with disgust but that does'nt mean i care
&nbs


mirror mirrormirror mirror on the wall why cant i just be me these morbid roles i hate to play things i wish not to bemirror mirror
mirror mirror make me life shun my mask away my painted face is empty my soul beginning to decay
no more ribbons in my hair no more powder blue no more lustrious cherry red its ME i must renew
take my feathers take my pearls give me hardcore real dress up i dont want to play i want..i NEED to feel
my head has floated from the clouds i woke up from my dream no more giggles run from my mouth my eye la


your poetry is horriblei am irrepressible teenage angst. here is my bitchy poem. whine. moan. woe is me. (insert typo here) i can use drastic S P A C I N G to make my point (insert computer shorthand here) my girlfriend just dumped me. whine. perhaps i canyour poetry is horrible
write at length about s u i c i d e (insert trite phrase about loneliness) because i am ohsotouchy
sob.
so, to all you
heartbroken struggling adolescents out there shut the fuck
up
your poetry is horrible. &nbs


TomorrowThe night air hung thick with spice, a breeze, sticky and sweet, danced among the gardens of the palace. India: no nights were more beautiful, more at peace, and no royalty lived better.Tomorrow
She stood at her gaping window, a post in the billowing satin curtains. Tears ripped through her delicate complexion, raping her beautiful skin. At this moment she was not beautiful, but she did not wish to be. All her life she had been famous for the heavenly face with which she had been blessed. The fame, like the people, had followed her like a plague. Wrapped in her prayers were questions, she pleaded to the gods, WHY
--
//Guffy
I lived in river forest for a while . . . well . ..they have jhonny's beef !
--
anger is a gift
--
bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity
--
Rubberband man, yeah he just snaps back
--
bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity
--
bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity
--
.
--
I can hardly catch my breath,
I hope it lasts.
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