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Literature Text
His smiling face turns crooked and grey-
Daddy didn't love him you see.
Mommy's pretty face cursed his DNA.
He's a little boy looking for a way,
But he has fallen on his freckled face.
His reality is slipping away-
Beer bottles replace the pokemon cards he once held with such faith.
Cigarettes stain the little boy smell I used to tease him about all day.
He's only sixteen,
And I don't want him to be-
A piece of rotting meat.
He's got skill,
And a personality.
He is more than-
The daddy whom watches him eat.
More than,
The daddy that hurt me.
I just hopes he knows,
He will forever have me.
Daddy didn't love him you see.
Mommy's pretty face cursed his DNA.
He's a little boy looking for a way,
But he has fallen on his freckled face.
His reality is slipping away-
Beer bottles replace the pokemon cards he once held with such faith.
Cigarettes stain the little boy smell I used to tease him about all day.
He's only sixteen,
And I don't want him to be-
A piece of rotting meat.
He's got skill,
And a personality.
He is more than-
The daddy whom watches him eat.
More than,
The daddy that hurt me.
I just hopes he knows,
He will forever have me.
Literature
Childhood Memories
Time became lost,
As i relived the memories flashing through my mind.
Wanting to explode from my mouth,
Poisonous words clawing up my throat, choking me.
The words i had practiced over and over again in front of the same mirror for years
It was dragged back down my throat,
Dissolving into the acid of my belly,
Never to be heard,
But by the ears of my screeching mind.
They could tell that they had gone over the line.
A simple question had been asked,
Then silence clung to the awkward room.
She realized her mistake
Concerned when signs of anguish showed in the flash of eyes
Quickly looking away,
My jaws clenching.
"So, tell us all about
Literature
Angstxiety
I am work weak on Wednesday
in a heap of hangover and hesitation
with fingers on a phone haptically
actively anticipating feedback—
I need that why do I need that.
My angst and anxiety
is constant and courses
and throbs with a pulse
that demands concern
of a baby boomer crooning poetic
in the distance to call me antisocial, or you know,
you could just call me.
If being this busy in an age
of constant communication
feels like having slept
but not feeling rested,
I'd rather cancel my plans
like a responsible millennial
and go to bed.
Literature
-
i fade with
stilted shots, the audience
waits for me. choking. oh god
how could this happen
with my throat
twisted up
and my head bound tight
in ropes i'm not sure i want to
untie? snap my brittle
wrists. i'm losing again,
numbers scaling down to a
place i should not be.
a parasite is swallowing
my energy. tests are negative.
i breathe.
--
just as i drift
into
pale, fading sleep,
his fingernails
claw through
the
material of
my skull.
i don't know who he is but i remember
the wooden floor beneath me
the length of my hair
catching under my back
as i struggle
and
how it felt when he
left me on the floor,
limp
tear stre
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Just some thoughts; worried about my little brother</3
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Comments68
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Very good! I love the ...metaphors? you used.
Favourite lines:
"Mommy's pretty face cursed his DNA.
He's a little boy looking for a way,
But he has fallen on his freckled face.
His reality is slipping away-
Beer bottles replace the pokemon cards he once held with such faith.
Cigarettes stain the little boy smell I used to tease him about all day."
Favourite lines:
"Mommy's pretty face cursed his DNA.
He's a little boy looking for a way,
But he has fallen on his freckled face.
His reality is slipping away-
Beer bottles replace the pokemon cards he once held with such faith.
Cigarettes stain the little boy smell I used to tease him about all day."