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Let your heart holdYou'll find be at the bottom
Watch at how my bones shake
Caged by the blazing bars of shame
Watch at how my heart awakes
Not to shatter under pressure
When your safety's on the line
And when your thoughts begin to fly
The way you act is how you're defined
I'm not the one to fight
When I'm at the head of the crusade
holding the beast that lay inside
with the worries that come cascade
I started to surender
when the light began to run
I was controlled by massacre
I had to chase the fading sun
When I'm on a faulter
Or on the end of dejection's blade
Walking a tightrope with one last thread
I still wont let my heart fade
I'm sent down onto my knees
Last words the last thing to shed
But yet when death is a charade
Backing down is the last thought in my head
Show me to the shipwreck
Watch at how my lungs collapse
Without a remedy or herb
Stay and watch my self-worth relapse
Ill never s
To the Feminist from the Battered ManIt would be so easy to wear my emotions on my sleeves, to wear my pain on my skin and display my feeling publicly for all to see like a newly painted canvass in public museum.
When I would think of their hands roaming my body, their words of hate and cruelty piercing my soul and their fist cracking my bones, I’d love it if I could just break down, tremble with tears and erupted into sobs.
Exactly like a …like a girl.
Don’t get me wrong ladies; you’re not all like this. I’ve seen you too when you’re corned, when you want only what you deserve…Justice. So you blame me for what another man did to you , besides, what one man does amplifies what we all do, does it not?
According to your standards it does.
So if I cry and scream, will you think differently of me? Will you think for just a second, that I’m human too? Will you finally believe me when I say that I’m not the man that hit you, not the man that raped your or beat you, not the
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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