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Do not tell me I should of been raised to protect myself When you were never raised to respect me. Do not tell me I should of worn less clothes When you wore less than I had on.
Cunning, yet sweet, deceitful, but kind Please don't hurt her glass mind Cold to the touch and clear to understand She hopes no one sees the cuts she has The ones she makes with her very own hands
I am a fucking phoenix. You can tear me down You can burn my body Leave me in the ashes of memories And even blow them across the floor
you are a queen who lives on her throne. it fits her quite nicely. - unique
Dear Oppressor, I would like you to thank you. Your mind may be orchestrating millions of ideas on why I would be saying thanks. Why would she thank her oppressor? Is she crazy?
This overwhelming tension is so blissful. How your soul is not resentful. You're the definition of freedom, unique spirit that's so seldom. Exterior of a goddess, superiority on every asset,
i am more than just an object. more than just a victim of being "DTF". i am more than the label slut.
Once Upon a Time In a castle on a hill Lived a princess of nursery rhyme Who changed her life with an iron will Cinderella a classic story A cinematic hoot From Grimm her tale is gory
Once there were two rival princes Who lived on opposite fences One was named Alex The other Theodore And the only thing they had in common Was that they both were a bore
Between her lack of skepticism... and her incessantly confidence is where I gain my joy. Her sweet proficiency and expertise, something like the mastery, of the chaos of what is surround us is where I get aroused. The juices from her brain that
I am who I want to be. I am a believer (not a bieber fan) I am a survivor. I am a beautiful female. I am a sensible teenager. I am runner.
"I am sorry" was what he kept repeating.
You take me for the weak
Believe it or not I didn’t wake up thinking of you I didn’t put on lipstick for you I didn’t brush my hair for you I didn’t wear this dress for you
I hear that men are better At putting bread on the table and Making dough. But I always thought women Belonged in the kitchen, So when it comes to baking bread
The world tries to sell girls a plethora of lies: “You’re too fat.” “You’re too short.” “He’ll think you’re ugly.” Please, don’t put on a social disguise. Piles of eyeliner, hair dye, lipstick, and blush
These eyes see farther than most They can see right to your soul But most importantly, they see the future I demand This vision is scary to some who cannot understand Power, power is what I have
Track records are damning, They slip into the folds of your skin like bar codes of your past.So that the technology of our future generations may simply blink to download them. Tracks records are the tattoos of prostitution to a prior cause.
1) I may be cheating by counting you. Romance doesn't mean much in the seventh grade. We held hands once during a bus ride, your palms were sweaty. I didn't mind.
Don't look at me with hope.Don’t look at me with the shine of foreveror the gloss of happily ever after’s.Don’t touch me with the ghost of your lipsor the whisper of your fingertips.Not with the gasps
Remember me ? it has been a while since you last glarred you heaven blue eyes into my crystal clear soul years since your devilish grin capture my glance Do you remeber me ? Take a seat, let me refresh your memory
Look at those matted strands upon your head Spots on your face like a dalmatian Your knees knock knocking while you clamber down the street You ! Yea you I see you
She has beads,and they are like mine.