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How can I hate those who raised me, When I am their baby? And I know that they hurt me, But I have been learning, That they are people too, There's a bunch of fucking shit that they went through.
For the victims, I’m sorry. I’m sorry because your country has failed you, as it has failed countless others before you, and unless we make changes
I awake with a scream, my ears still ringing from the gunshots and yelling, the hymns we were singing. We march in the streets and we all yell some more. But it falls on deaf ears
In some places, scars are The most goregous, glimmering things you've ever seen. Intricate designs telling of forgotten pains And forged of blood. They speak to the strength of their owner.
I am the rotting composition
Her smile shines like the bright sun Teacher's plush pink lips Move fluently as she speaks to us "How about we play a game, class?" My face lights up I love teacher's games!
Dear victims, Dear that kid in the corner , who is afraid to raise a hand Dear that girl in the locker room, who is afraid to dress again Dear that boy getting punched from a so-called " friend "
CAN YOU IMAGINE? YOU WATCHED IT. BUT, DID YOU FEEL IT? BAM. BAM. DID YOU HEAR? THOSE WHERE THE BODIES HITTING THE GROUND AFTER WAVING GOOD BYE BEFORE JUMPING OFF THE BUILDING.
Smoke clouding your sight, your vision
Some nights, I can't sleep! I wonder why? Some nights, I wonder where I stand in life. Other nights, I feel afraid, almost destressed. Resting nights, angels soars at my presences.
What is war?
Think of me as delicate, crippled and easy for you to destroy; crawling on my hands and knees, a burned and sickly looking toy. Think of me as enslaved, trapped inside your hands
When I was thirteen, I had my first f***. Sex has this positive connotation Of being greatly enjoyable by both participants The guy’s feeling fly, girl’s feeling high And for this feeling,
Caw, caw, caw! The crow goes. Boom, boom, boom! My heartbeat grows. I stare at my window Waiting, waiting. Fear enveloping my mind and soul.