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we could be poets

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read the poem and pass it along... [07 Feb 2005|05:40pm]

My name is Misty,

I am but three,

My eyes are swollen

I cannot see,

I must be stupid

I must be bad,

What else could have made

My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better

I wish I weren't ugly,

Then maybe my mommy

Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all

I can't do a wrong

Or else I'm locked up

All the day long.

When I awake

I'm all alone

The house is dark

My folks aren't home

When my mommy does come

I'll try and be nice,

So maybe

I'll get just

One whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!

I just heard a car

my daddy is back

From Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse

My name he calls

I press myself

Against the wall

I try and hide

From his evil eyes

I'm so afraid now

I'm starting to cry

He finds me weeping

He shouts ugly words,

He says its my fault

That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me

And yells at me more,I

finally get free

And I run for the door.

He's already locked it

And I start to bawl,

He takes me and throws me

Against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor

With my bones nearly broken,

And my daddy continues

With more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!", I scream

But its now much too late

His face has been twisted

Into unimaginable hate

The hurt and the pain

Again and again

Oh please God, have mercy!

Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops

And heads for the door,

While I lay there motionless

Sprawled on the floor

My name is Misty

And I am but three,

Tonight my daddy

Murdered me.

There are thousands of kids out there just like Misty. And you can help. Please pass this poem on because as crazy as it might sound, it might just indirectly change a life. Hey, you NEVER know.

PLEASE send this if YOU are against CHILD ABUSE
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[06 Feb 2005|09:27pm]

[ mood | depressed ]


our bodies shuffle underneath blankets,
the sun spilling on the sheets warming our legs.
our eyes are blinking open gradually
welcoming in the new day.
your arms gather me up; i fold onto you.
and this is where our hearts lay,
hands meeting and palms pressing with fingers intertwining like stitches.
we match perfectly,
aligned with our eyes
and our lips do no talking,
but walking instead
from the creases of your neck, your arms
to the tips of your fingers where it lingers;
and i remember
what it is like again to love.

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[14 Mar 2004|12:17am]

blissfully alone
we're all so blissfully young
beauty to jump the gun.
no thoughts to express
no names and no faces
just bodies to undress.
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it's so dry, from my mouth to my blood [11 Mar 2004|04:42pm]

we could have an anthem,
and dance in the street.
on the hills and highways
and across the nation.

invite all of your friends,
and every one dance,
and we'll dance away our dreams
from the stars to the gutters.

the run off will infect the sewers,
and lower life forms will join us.
we'll all dance into the night
under the ill moon and sick stars

no one will see us, i promise.
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[11 Mar 2004|03:19pm]

Believing in a fairy tale
and ringing every bell,
her truth sells short the
life she lives and
delegates a paintbrush and
and canvas:
She is to fill it with
tender experiences
and callused circumstance.

Time to start anew.

Welcome to the community, kids. Drench your minds in meaning and pour it into your entries.
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