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In my Back, There is a KnifeBefore I begin my story, there is a slight beginning, just a small entrance, just an opening question that will lead you into my world. Make you feel my pain, and see my life the way I've seen it. So here it is: how can a flat chested, nerdy, generally mild mannered girl, suddenly become a 36C, hated, trendsetter, choosing between 3 guys? Well here we go my adventure on how I went from that dork in the corner, to the front page on the rumor mills. Just a warning before we begin, this is not a pretty story, this will bring fear into the eyes of young high school students who may and surely will find themselves in the same trouble that I seemingly have, teens who will read this and then cower in fear from the thought of losing everything they had. Reader discretion is advised.
See, I've finally concluded my predicament down to the overall problem, having friends of the opposite sex is definitely not the problem, throughout my story it will seem that all along that has been the real reaso
juggalo lovei'll push him away but it'll do me no good,
a tough juggalo boy, born from the hood.
he'll put on his face paint,
i'll fall head over heels,
the deal has been sealed.
one kiss and i'm done,
on the run.
they say we wont last,
our religion is dead,
one punch however,
we'll chop off their head.
for a juggalette girl,
who was lost and then found,
down with the clown,
till i'm dead and in the ground.
for a juggalo boy,
flaunting his pride,
we will not hide.
were loud and were proud,
we aint afraid to show it,
were juggalos forever,
and everyone should know it.
down with the clown till dead and in the groundtheres a girl hidden inside the paint, behind the black and white and jagged edges, behind the sharpness of the design and the dignity she wears with it. a different side of you comes out when you put the paint on. a different girl imerges and takes over, shes strong confident and proud. she gets the hate and shrugs it off, she doesnt care what they think, she knows that when she wears the paint she wears it proudly, shes part of a family that loves her. she doesnt know alot of her family (by the hatchet) but she knows theyre there. they respect each other and they respect the hatchet. she takes everything in stride and stays calm cool and collected. shes strong when she puts on the paint, she can conquer the world, life is at her fingertips and she knows it.
down with the clown till im dead and in the ground
lieshe lies, every moment he says he has proof but you know inside, you want to scream, to rip his head off, it's too late though. the damage has been done, you spend the day having been torn apart by your decision. he acts like nothing happened and slowly as the day passes your anger and jealousy grows stronger, eating away at you from the inside out. he didnt even care, he hadn't cared. Finally you snap, you break it all, cut the strings and pull away. He still acts as though he doesn't care, as though nothing happened to him. Nothing had happened to either of you. It makes the pain stronger. Your anger grows harsh and the only thing that can comfort you would be the cold steel and metal of your freshly sharpened blade, pressed against the soft flesh of your wrist. But you had given it to her, to prevent this, to stop this inevitable demise. The feeling of being weak is there, mocking you hoping to make you so insecure you just end it all but then, threw all the dark and sadness, HE is t
My Sweet Midnight.in the Dark night, She was alone, wasting away ,in her very own home.
on her soft bed of shavings, she fought back the pain, but all over her efforts, were sadly in vain.
pressed to the ground, till morning broke threw, her body was found, it could not be true.
barely she breathed, a breath so faint, nothing they did, could save the dying paint.
a whinny marked the end of her life, nothing could save, my sweet midnight.
she galloped to heaven, her soul started flying, her hooves were pounding, the angels were crying.
her fur shone bright, as she stood snorting, under the pale moonlight.
her wings started growing, her halo was gold, she was shrouded in warmth, she shook off the cold.
she lifted her wings, pumping the air, she flew threw the sky without a worry or care.
a shooting star, across the night sky, a twinkle arose in her soft brown eye.
her ears perked forward, as she watched down below, at all the people shed come to know.
her body was gone but her soul s
Creatures of the NightIn the dead of the night there are things humans neglect to see, things so haunting they would forever burn a vision of terror into our brains.
Demented creatures with dripping blood and loose flesh clinging to the jagged edges of their razor sharp teeth.
nightmarish bodies hunched and contorted as they ripped their way through our dreams, leaving a mangled bloody mess in their wake.
Every memory of them in our minds however dissapear the moment we open our eyes, still heavy with sleep,to the seemingly equal fear of reality.
Everyday humans come into contact with these monsters adn they never realize it, they leave the beasts to the depths of our thoughts, never once wondering where they lurk in real life.
they pretend that the creatures remain hidden in our minds but they never realize that the beasts could live right in their neighborhood, stalking their children, following them home, lurking in the shadows of their houses when they leave. Being one of these creatures, the feel of ra
Hand In HandHand in hand
We walk alone
To a place, our home sweet home
He looks to me, with a smile
I can't help feeling it's been awhile
In the clearing in the woods, I think to myself, it can't be this good
Something feels right, something feels wrong,
Being together it's been so long
The way he smiles it cuts me deep, it's something that I want to keep
Something isn't right though, from what his blue eyes show,
The sky is black, he disappears,
I cry out, eyes burned with tears
They flood the rivers, and the streams,
I rise in bed with a hollow scream
My cheeks are streaked, my hands in fists
All along it was him I missed, but something inside me
Way down deep,
Wants it, needs it, to not be a dream.
Splashing Red on My Canvas of WhiteSilver shining in the light
Pressed to flesh
So wrong, yet so right
My mental reasoning as clear as mud
Razor glinting, sharp and precise
My bad comfort in the darkest nights
Blood and tears, hollow cries
Don't reach their ears
The pain makes me high, ready to fly
Want it, need it, when I cry
No one knows when I'm alone,
Splashing red on my canvas of white
The thrill-full bite,
The sting, the chill, my arm to warm
With flowing blood
Let my pain be heard.
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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