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Wind me up, pull my string
Marvel at how I dance and sing
Look at me, your pretty thing

Anything you find inside
you dismiss; I run and hide
Forced obedience, I abide

I see through rose lenses how you are
For you I'd travel near or far
To you, I am a dying star

You bind my hands and cage my heart
This is not love; this is a farce
The time has come for us to part
 

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"Brave"

Wanna talk about brave
It's not how you parade
No one cares if you're a tomboy
If you do or don't shave
Will you fight against the enemy
Threatening to rape your power
Will you beg under the pressure
Use a clothing rack for cover?
You think you're brave
But ask my grandfather,
A certified war vet.
He'd laugh in your flawless face
Go see if cash wins that bet.
 

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"Reborn"

Sent by his master
Far across the land
Just for the purpose
Of death at anothers hand

Reborn in the future
Land distant by ocean
He remembers that moment
Of blood and commotion

But lost is his purpose
His mission in life
Why is that he suffers
From trouble and strife

And then he remembers
The master is love
An end to obsession
He's freed like a dove
 

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"Until It Passes"

Until this passes,
I hope that I can find my strength
Hope I can recollect a time
When something took their place
When I was born,
I think I knew something this grown-up me doesn't
And when I'm hurt,
What I don't know just sits in my head and covets.
I hope I'm through looking for answers
In other confused people.
I hope this time around, I sit alone
And try to dig deeper
I've seen so many women fall apart for something fate commissioned
Losing faith because they don't see
that it's all part of a lesson.

I hope I'm stronger than that.
I know I will try my best
I never miss those who don't miss me;
Only answers on the test.
 

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"When You're Lonely"

When you're lonely
Is when you should be alone the most.
When you're bored with your own company,
There's something you don't know.
You could be home or up in space
But your mindset will stay the same
If you still fail to see the magic;
Your perspective has to change.

There's never been a time in history
When you weren't in control
Not so much of situations
Rather, how you let them go.
The successes of our world
Knew to wait around for no one.
Funny how we think we have to
'Til we do what must be done.
 

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"Atheish"

Maybe perception is something of a ripple effect.
Maybe the vibes we put out influence what we attract.
If I'm a psychopath and hit you thinking I've done what's right,
Maybe what's 'wrong' stops existing.
Onto something more light.
This is to say that maybe people run their own destinies.
You could defend yourself against that same psychopathy.
It wouldn't matter if you liked yourself enough to fight,
Because liking yourself depends on if you have enough pride
And pride is based on moral constructs that, AGAIN, you decide.
In other words, if rapists like themselves,
You surely are fine.
I'm sick of people looking outward to discover what's in
When we don't see behind the scenes enough to make conclusions.
I'm sick of people, fueled by ignorance, exceeding today
Because those with their own minds don't want to add storms to waves.
And most of all, I'm sick of being a culture victim myself.
It's time to break free from the nothings disguised as something else.
 

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FIRE

If some Prometheus would grasp
At empty air, no strength of hand
Would serve to free him from his chains
When hands have nothing firm to hold.
The gods if called on only laugh;
The demons shrug: No more to do.
Deaf mankind keeps his gift; but, no,
In using it, forgets the source.
He feels the sun’s dynamic rays—
They beam on him—and yet the sun
Is out of reach, a kind but dis-
Tant patron, he, who sees and hears
And shines and smiles at good and bad:
Ah, no—no mingling there of souls—
The only solace here must come
From those who share Prometheus’ plight,
That, having risked it all, still give
The vital light, the living heat,
At any cost. Oh you, my love,
Who share your light, who share your heat,
Have broke my chains, renewed my life,
Enflamed my soul so I can be
Your partner, through love’s fusing heat:
Two souls combine when two hands clasp,
Your loving hand has met my grasp.
 

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"Better With A(n)ge(r)"

In my life,
I've found a balance for my cynicism.
When used right,
It harmonizes with my egotism.
The part of me that wants to think
As if there's nothing wrong
And then the part that makes it crazy
Just to bring it on.
I am the chaos theory, just personified.
I know that order won't exist unless I poke and pry.
Just at the perfect times.
I put my pride aside.
I'll never rest because that's what will leave us high and dry.
 

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On a normal day, I would say “it doesn’t matter”. It doesn’t matter that you made me feel less. It doesn’t matter that I sat alone for all these years looking into a world I would never fit into. It doesn’t matter, because I knew my way around and found others who filled my life with joy – because I never actually had a problem making friends.

On a normal day, I would say “it wasn’t anybody’s fault”. It wasn’t anybody who purposely kept me at distance, at least not to be mean, you were all sort of nice. It wasn’t anybody who was directly mean to me, you just wasn’t comfortable – and I don’t know if it was because of me, or some other reason, but I could feel it - and you can bet I thought it was because of me at the time, so I kept my distance. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that I felt so alone for all those years, we all just lived our lives.

On a normal day, I would say “I love being alone”. And its not to say that it’s a lie and even though i like to keep myself company, the truth is I was alone for such a long time I don’t know if it’s a part of me, or something forced upon me. Its not to say that I didn’t have any friends, because I had good ones, but they where not present in class. They where not classmates. It wasn’t them who made me feel rejected. On a normal day I don’t think twice about the fact that I need, crave and adore being completely alone by myself – cause on a normal day, it feels normal, me, energizing and quiet.

But in my dark days I don’t matter, its all my fault and I am all alone. On these days I am not worth anybody’s thoughts, nobody likes me, nobody really wants to be with me and all those unfortunate souls who have manage to get stuck in my life would be better off without me. On my dark days I feel lost, lonely, sad, shameful, unnormal, weird, empty, greedy, heavy and unworthy. And on those day, I don’t like being alone, but every inch of my body and mind craves it. It feels like, if I don’t get it, I will go out of my mind – “loose it”. And I can say that “it doesn’t matter, wasn’t anybody’s fault or I love being alone”, but the aftermath can be seen on those dark days – and that matters despite whose fault it was, that I was left all alone for all those years, by all the same people – again and again – because on my dark days, I’m back behind my classroom desk.
 

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Deluded

All I ever know is me.
I just enjoy your company.
Don't get confused, don't be too pleased.
I don't need your love to be freed.
My time is precious, so I'm careful.
I trust no one, thus I'm wasteful
Of all things disposable.
You can call me deplorable.

But at least I'm not deluded.
 
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"Grave of Sticks"

A road in a town most folks will never see.
Population count no higher than 6,003.
Kids most folks never knew,
Laid in ditches of sticks.
Brushed off by some city goers
As a barrel of hicks.
"They were drinking, they were driving,
They were lit in the night."
And though none of that was true,
Their minds still won't be set right.

A shallow grave full of sticks.
Sun hasn't shone in a while.
Perhaps it sunk with their bodies
In this unnamed 'junk' pile.
 

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I hear you in the winds
Through the mirror’s bevel
There a ripple sags softly
A weight of feathers
That pounds the heart
Can you hear me from here
Mother, the bearer of you so near
Thirty-four knots surround
 

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Free-writing, because I feel like I could use that right now. May or may not decide to actually post it.


Tell me what I have to do.
Tell me what would break me through.
All these visions in my head.
Are they stuck there til they're dead?
I found something that feels greater than love
So I don't want to lose to something above.
How is it that what I feel seems so right
But application ends up in my demise?
I could sit still on my hands.
Make no use of all my plans.
But I've tried that once before
Saw results that left me floored.
I don't want much, just occasional care
To let me know that there's something like me out there.
To egg me on, remind me what I can do.
And maybe I could do the same thing for you.
I've met people who made me want to run
And I've met people who could redefine fun, but
If you were someone in the middle of both
Then I could ride your wave
Somehow stay afloat.
 
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Pretty Is Overrated

Something so enigmatic
In her need to be free
The way she walks the empty streets
As if there's life we don't see
And how she dances to no music
Looking crazy to most
I fell in love with her spirit
I stopped caring who knows.
 

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Once it was and now it isn't
I have to let go
I don't feel like letting go but my heart has done it for me
Already swept you away, out of my heart, just like that
What comes easy, goes easy
But you were never anything but easy
What goes up must come down and so my mood goes with it
For every time that little number gets one higher I feel the failure deep within
Forget me not I might whisper but with nothing to hear it or care does it ever still remain hanging in the air like it had never been said in the first place
Like a never ending story that just keeps to it's repeat
Never can I ever make you mine
So forget I shall, forget I must
And forever making you my never
Just like that
 

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The Record Keeper
And it’s such an interesting, tragic exception
Usually I can take these old, worn books and scribble out the pages
Spilling ink over memories, removing the text of what is past
Until the records are completely blacked out, and I can move forward to a new chapter
With no sense of regret or longing to return
But with this book, I can’t erase what’s been written
My hand violently trembles with the pen, and no matter how desperately I try
I can’t cross the words out
As though doing so would bring the apocalypse, the very end to all that is known
So instead, all I can do is sit here and read it over and over again
Until I’m driven to utter insanity
 

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Magician and Demons

I am a magician after my heart breaks
Sneaking into my bedroom,
softly close the door I self-built.
I cut myself down to bone
carving out what is worth keeping.

Guts explode from my chest,
my execution a murder mystery.
‘You do not matter’
smeared in blood on the wall.
Red caution tape
Sting of a death I barely remember
reverberates through hallways
I spent trying to escape.

Specializing in compartmentalizing demons,
I drag out my treasure chest
hidden under the floorboard.
Pandora rests on the edge of my fingertips
A collection of young and old tongues
camouflaged as a music box.
Is it possible to make wicked sound sweet?

Performing my own exorcism religiously,
regurgitate every nerve interlocked in me.
Her bones cracking,
soundtrack to my suffering.
I am out of body,
watching my soul burn under my feet.

Heart dangling from my mouth,
I spit out what no longer serves me.
 
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