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Hey anger, I hate you
You make me do ****
That I never want to
You make me
Scream, yell, cry, and hit
You make me want to break ties
That I want to knit
You make me say words I'll never mean
But with you, anger, I feel seen
This is how I feel after I get angry.
Never had anger issues as a kid but I grew up to realize I did. Anger does make me feel guilt. I hate anger, it makes me want to quit.
The first failure
Is the next step to success
So don't give up now
Something had to be hard before you ever learned it... so don't give up now
Lost amoung love's haze
There is a price I must pay
love left me astray
Love lost... truly.. heartake hearts... I want others... not to be trapped behind these closed doors.... praying to and listing to music to soothe my soul... put this flame to rest.. also a off branch of my first poem "love lost"
 Jul 10 Dorothea Daisy
Liana
It doesn't matter
How deep the water is if
You're drowning in it
"it's not that deep"
"Not a big deal"
That doesn't matter as long makes you feel like **** it matters and you deserve help

You could be drowning in your bathtub
The sea
A bowl of water
It doesn't matter, you can't breathe and deserve/need help
Usually we’re the ones lost.  
To get back on track we must:
Admit that we are.

We’re an exploded star.
Turning into stardust
People are so far—
100 million years light.
They still see us shine.
Not even we see our fight.

It takes courage
to admit the fall
For people used
to resist it all.

You’re not weak for falling,
You’re weak for not recognizing you’ve fallen.

Oh star, you’re growing dim.
But little is that a sin.
Lost the battle, not the war.
Rest today, and then you’ll soar.
Falls.
Never gets up.
Falls.
Pretends it doesn’t hurt.
Falls.
Too much pride to accept.
Falls.
Stops trying— stays alert.

Falls. Falls. Falls.
And
Still
We
Get
Up
Again.
False
                Evidence that  
                Appears to be
Real.

F
E
A
R
Nothing
Unless
Monday to Monday something
Bothers you.
It’s not really just nothing. Because that type of feeling is the most frustrating and awful part of pain. Feeling numb— getting cut by the thorn so many times, it just doesn’t hurt.
When I can’t write
And still I wish to.
Thinking all night
Hoping to see you.

Writer’s block isn’t for me.
But poked eyes, tonight I see.
Paper and pen, Keyboard and screen.
Either way, words fly from me.
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