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Literature Text
Let me tell you this my friend
And I will tell you no more
If my passion is your crime
Then your love should be my law
I’m the exception to the rule
And the end of this blood line
I should hang my head in shame
I am repulsive by design
Allow me to elucidate
And I will tell you no lie
I am charged with being charmless
And I have no alibi
Feloniously you broke my heart
One chamber at a time
Though I’d expect nothing less
I am repulsive by design
Beware of the broken hearted
Indeed consider with caution
Repulsion cleansed my sorry soul
Such a spiritual abortion
But when a full term of sorrow
And low self esteem combine
I still remain unloveable
I am repulsive by design
And I will tell you no more
If my passion is your crime
Then your love should be my law
I’m the exception to the rule
And the end of this blood line
I should hang my head in shame
I am repulsive by design
Allow me to elucidate
And I will tell you no lie
I am charged with being charmless
And I have no alibi
Feloniously you broke my heart
One chamber at a time
Though I’d expect nothing less
I am repulsive by design
Beware of the broken hearted
Indeed consider with caution
Repulsion cleansed my sorry soul
Such a spiritual abortion
But when a full term of sorrow
And low self esteem combine
I still remain unloveable
I am repulsive by design
Literature
Lately...
Lately I've been thinking, if the steps
That I've taken were meaningful at all
I'm not sure if my conscience helps me anymore
Maybe faith is guiding me through this storm
My heart feels like it's being torn
By the one who I've cared about the most
Literature
The Poet
The Poet:
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wonderin
Literature
Seventeen (In Phases)
1.
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
2.
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday wh
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no i meant equius from homestuck