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broken faithi.we made wings out ofsaran wrap and twigs,simplicity at best.ii.we prayed for theautumn winds to blowus away like seeds.iii.we reached towardsthe never-ending skyand jumped.iv.our wings stepped on,our bodies crushed,we faced the darkness.
for NanaN urtured my best frienda nd I from when we were 5 years old untiln ow; 15 years later, you were a faithful pal (even when you were in pain)a nd now, it's time for you to enjoy doggie heaven - you deserve it!
war with myselfechoes of "hello?"and rings of a gunshotreverberated in thelittle bedroom upstairs;a simple surrenderwas made, concludingthe many years ofnever-ending battles.
letter to those like me to whom it may concern:i strung my dreams on a kite and ran with them against the wind,only to realize that outside forces are stronger than i'll ever be.as expected, i got blisters all along my dry hands from the thick rope;guess faith kept them from bursting open and bleeding out.these dreams were chased away and ripped off from my grasp,yet things we lose have a unique way of coming back to us.storm clouds will fade someday and the wind will cease to exist;now to climb up that tree and get my broken dreams to repair them.you see, i've learned no dream is out of reach if you have themotivation to chase them through life's obstacles and yes,they will be there;they will be thereto attempt to trip you, hang you by your toes, call you names,anything to stop you from chasing your dreams - don't let themstop you, don't let them stop you... don't let them stop you.promise me,promise me that you'll bandage up your bliste
ain't no Barbie for youmy body will not apologizefor its small breastsfor its wide hips and thighsfor its (somewhat) huge ass.my body will not changeits dull brown eyesfor baby-blue ones,my body will not changeits brown-ish black hairfor dumbest blond strands.just because you don't like plus-size girlsjust because you love your girls like you love your trees,tall and skinny and branched wide open,just because anorexia and bulimia are common in girlsages 15 through 20 (years old),my brain refuses to let my body go on a strict diet of starvation.i'm no Barbie doll,i'm no famous model,nor is anyone who is healthy and normal.after all.real love - it's not measured by physical weight or beauty,but by the size and goodness of one's heart;that's what really counts.so if you were looking for a girl of perfectionto be yours always and forever,good luck finding her, it ain't gonna be me.
to go backwhen we were younger,we raced towards theclock, wanting tospeed up the time,moving the handsfaster and fasterforward;when we are older,we try to catch upwith the clock,wanting to slow itdown, moving thehands slower and slowerbehind.
isolated bullyingmake themstop.please.these voices.please.stop.these namesthey callme.these threatsthey make tome.no,i won't.i won'tkill myselfjust foryou.i rather becalleda queerstrangefreakya dyke,than to everlet you win.just please,stop.i don't deserveyour nastiness.andyou don't deservemy time.stop it withthe names.stop it withthe threats.quit beinga parasite.
proofa nosebleed.how typical.least it showsthat I'm stillalive.stain my chin,stain my neck,stain my shirt.i won't stop it,i'll let itdripdripdrop.my very ownpersonalmurder scene,excepti'm stillvery muchalive.