BorderlineI just had to know that they were thereBorderline
Every time I felt a pull, Whenever I noticed a look away, If I caught a scornful mull, I could grasp them with what I say.
If they looked at another,
Could there be a doubt? Might I being an intrinsic smother? But, my blood has binding clout.
Mabye, they looked down on me? Or sneeringly judged my merit. Was there something they couldn’t see? My starvation brings respect inherent.
I never wanted to see them cry Or hear a loving wounded sigh Rip them from a deserv’ed high
The Choice To LiveIs it good to want, If this could haunt? Are we privy to elect, Not a second to neglect?The Choice To Live
Do we endure, by choice Or ignore the voice? The sound to pursue, And incur danger anew?
Play it safe, Or knowingly chafe? Stare into that face, A searing soulful lace?
Go on with mental rhyme Or be willing to sign, A life to that, For which we act?
If we veer, Than there is only fear. It’s a layer so sheer. Shrouding something so dear.
Save Me HungerWith each glance into that mirror, I see a thing that could not be clearer. Inexorable disgust, worth my reviling, And thus a horror so very riling.Save Me Hunger
I am always willing to fight it back, Starving; running, exertion has no lack. The things I once found to be okay, Became the foes standing in my way.
I know how this all came to be, I was young; that pervasive decree. I faced those eyes, that horrid tone, My un-worthiness always shown.
Yet scarcely believed ‘til I fell in love, Then it all came back and fit like a glove. I came to know r
EdwardNot all men are greatly blessed, With truly inspiring means; To be amazing, with spot-less genes. But those without are able to rest, For they are kindly unknowing, And are fine to be but lowing.Edward
This was the case for Edward Vin, A humble man of good intent, To menial worlds he had been sent. For others he would never win, For less than just a simple guy, To them: worth less than rye.
He, at a young and tender age, Was left behind by calloused hearts, In a cavern of pool and darts. To those fools, no better sage, Than the likes of Mil
pretty boys break hearts.sometimes I think I’m just a mess of badly drawn lines. I’m just scrawled veins beneath paper rough skin, I wear poorly sketched scars on my thighs [skin deep red pen lines] and even my smile is lop-sided- but he never seemed to notice. my skin [spread like thick icing over my skeleton] is a monotonous pattern of pores, a stretch of the world the sun never kissed. I can’t see the beauty in multitudes of freckles and chipped fingernails- but he does.pretty boys break hearts.
‘why do you love me?’
‘you make me happy.’
I never could figure out just how. was it
IThou shall take notice of the extent that I have maintained old mores.I
There does exist the souls of many who shall persecute and say otherwise. Take notice of the ways that others have made information available to the rest of the world that was not available until they have spoken with their tongue, though I have never divulged a word that is not already in circulation. Knowledge that can already be found in the many ways of the media, and to re-circulate such knowledge is definitely not a crime. I am not of the many that continue to smokescreen the rest of the populace in an effort to educate those that have no authority to ha
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