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Literature Text
Help Out,
My instincts scream at me as I watch my sister struggle with yet another chore,
Lend a hand.
Is my craving need as yet another errand has to be done.
It shouldn't matter if I'm not getting anything in return.
And it didn't...
At first.
I sunk below every level of acknowledgement until I was down to being labeled 'lazy' and 'ungrateful.'
For every thought not vocalized, was yet another punishment of praise mixed with deceit,
As every 'Thank you' was poisoned with rolled eyes and a disparaging tone.
I took it all in with closed lips until I burned in the purity of shame of not saying everything.
I'm still ashamed that it took me to a breaking point to decide that I was worth more than your snide insults and dirty looks.
But I guess everything is alright now.
After-all...
I hear that you won't be holding that against me anymore...
My instincts scream at me as I watch my sister struggle with yet another chore,
Lend a hand.
Is my craving need as yet another errand has to be done.
It shouldn't matter if I'm not getting anything in return.
And it didn't...
At first.
I sunk below every level of acknowledgement until I was down to being labeled 'lazy' and 'ungrateful.'
For every thought not vocalized, was yet another punishment of praise mixed with deceit,
As every 'Thank you' was poisoned with rolled eyes and a disparaging tone.
I took it all in with closed lips until I burned in the purity of shame of not saying everything.
I'm still ashamed that it took me to a breaking point to decide that I was worth more than your snide insults and dirty looks.
But I guess everything is alright now.
After-all...
I hear that you won't be holding that against me anymore...
Literature
The Girl Who Was Afraid To Be
She speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
apologises
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
by ignoring
her beautiful words
and telling her to
shut up,
keep it down,
nobody cares.
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
Literature
never become a writer
i.never become a writer.
you will become a perfectionist,
picking life apart
with a magpie's eye,
hunting for the beautiful bits
until you can make yourself
a sparkling throne
in the center of a junkyard.
ii.you will write when you're sad.
you will write when you're happy.
whenever you feel something,
you will vomit the emotion out
into some sort of literature.
when you're finished,
you'll be empty
and surrounded by
pages and pages of
everything you once were.
iii.you will try to make
pain sound delicious,
painting over the ragged wounds
with pink paint
and candy-coat lies.
you will learn
how to decorate graveyards.
everyone will play
Literature
It's okay to be different
Fitting in's a trap:
they put you inside the box,
and then close the lid.
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Starting to get over this part of my life but it doesn't help to hear out of the blue that someone who treated me so harshly has the nerve to claim that they are no longer angry with me....no longer...angry with me....for removing myself from the situation....that's all kindsa special.
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An impressive, well-worded, thought-provoking piece. Wonderful work, dear!