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I put away every sharp object: pin and blade and dangerous edge. I still don't trust myself with scissors, even these days. Part of loving oneself is knowing how far that love extends. Part of being a family is knowing you'll have to leave. How far I've come, to stand here and to hold myself up - courage, pride, strength. I break so easily - tears to drown me; rage to scream at you endlessly - because I'm guilty of knowing that these days are numbered few. Regret sits on the back step with the pumpkin we didn't carve this year, because I wasn't here - unwanted, unaddressed and necessary. I'm not your little girl anymore - I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to go and grow up and go away. I stare at my wrists hating time for dragging me on through life; for tearing us apart and casting me into future. Oh, how I want to remain - I'm not your little girl now, but I'll always be your daughter and I'll always be your big sister; I'll always want this house; I'll never leave. I put away the scissors, and my ink and all my words. I chose to live that night, years ago, for you, so now I have to go. Part of being a family - however torn, however mad - is knowing you'll never have to leave, right? I'll always have what you gave me: courage, pride, strength and love; and I'll always be your daughter your big sister - always belong. |
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don't know why words like snowflakes fall no reason but to speak of the coming tide subtle beauty night calling I desire only words like sunlight piercing to warm me bitter season winter winds now rending words from me like boughs from treetops to scatter on frozen earth like snowflakes freeze still the cheerful spring of poetry my white forest empty, silent, brittle, waits no warmth in words to thaw us don't know why words like snowflakes drift unable to tempt summer back to this place. |
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I don't want numbers they blur the page before my eyes a body count even less do I want names the missing the grieving another night to mourn and days of sorrow coming fear and fire on the blue green planet as we slaughter our people ourselves mass devastation brother sister torture, terror we do not forget rest in peace you die not in vain rest in peace rest in peace and may peace take you home we do not forget they cannot forgive my apocalypse slithers near waiting to strike watching you tearing the beating heart out of the world. |