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Coal Black HeartMaybe if you didn't call me--Excuse the language here,--A slut or a whore or a prostituteOn a daily basis, I would like you.Maybe if your glare wasn't soAccusing, judgemental, stone coldI would open up to you andLove you for once.You ask me every single day if ILove you like a good sister should,And I think the answer should beObvious behind my lie.I tell you, of courseI love you with all my heartInside, my heart is screaming at youTelling you how much I hate you.
A Sip of Pity for MyselfDespair sits heavy in my stomachAnd I'm not quite sure why yetIt's heavy and dark and greasyLike a riverstone coated in algaeIt coils and spins like liesIn my stomach, it is a bundleOf baby snakes yearning for meTo spit them up and set them freeDespair sits heavy in my stomachAnd I want to fall asleep whenMy head is telling me storyAfter story of of horrible pity
How to Grow a PoemTo write a poem is a challengeBut here are some easy stepsThere is no fear in dark black textAcross your computer screen.Step one, take a deep breath,What you're about to see can be scary.Step two, open your eyes,Crack by crack let the sunshine into your head.Step three, let your mind speak up,It has an opinion too on what you're seeing.Step four, remember things about the world,You never know what may spark a train of words.By now you'll have a sticky handfulOf sugary sweet words and phrasesSo carefully place them on your paperAnd whisper, It's alright,Because lets face it.We hate our own work.
I Am A HumanI am HumanI am a complex being made of flesh and boneBlood rushes through my every vein like a race trackI am made of cells that named themselvesI am HumanI am made of the same materials as starsWhether it is the ones who fly high in the skyOr walk down the red carpet with flashing cameras.My building blocks are complex and joint together with certainty.I am Human, and I like it that way.
Fame is a bottled Poison..I suppose I got my rockstarsOf the artist community by seeing that they haveMore than my lesser experience.More work doneMore fansMore friendsMore complimentsMore time served in this eternal cell block of fighting to find beautyBut even so they have lessThey have lost friendsLost familyLost timeLost competitionsLost love as they searched for the person that was truly them all alongSo maybe I should stop comparing me to themStop comparing the sapling to the treeAnd look more at how they were born:Living and aspiring to grow.