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you could almost see
ink flowing through her veins
and how she spread her words
across her heart
waiting for someone to
read them
and she may have been
complicated
but she had such
simple needs
but no one took her
seriously
and she let things
hurt far more than they should
because she truly cared about
people. everyone. everything
because it felt right to her
and she had no idea
how to be anything else
because sometimes she
wished she could
but if you were to pick apart
all these little pieces
and how memories always stain
then maybe you could
see something
special there
 May 2014 Jessica Head
Zead
you feel lonely,
not at home,
don't know where home is,
but you aren't there,
there as in that place,
and reality falls,
your heart can't grasp it altogether,
but it's alright,
*** in the end,
you will find what's right,
like the rope being cut with a saw but the magnets try to meet and drill through the barrier anyways,
my art,
ones ****,
ones destiny,
but can hurt many-goodnight manny
yea. i pulled this out of my face while counseling someone about stufff.
I can see it.

The Skin encasing my heart, pulsating.

It races.

I struggle for air.

I'm no marathon runner – I'm a chronic smoker with half a lung, with a heart in a condition much worse.

I shut my eyes, in a faint attempt to attempt to faint and shut myself off from everything that I have ever laid my eyes on.

But I still feel it.

I press my finger tips against the skin encasing my heart.

And I wince at every beat.
Just One of those nights...
you're bound to be a hater
should people treat you badly
for hate is a deep seated feeling
which constantly gnaws and gnaws

one can empathize
with a hater
they bear the lacerating scars
of pain
which lodge in their reminder chambers

hate is a feature
we are told to repress
yet the hate we possess
isn't easy to suppress
we all hate something
this we must confess
things in our lives
can make a nasty mess

the lectures on hating others
are a waste of time
for those of us
who've been afforded
not such a pretty time

hate is an emotion
which embeds like grime
it cannot be erased
as it is
as profound as a crime

everywhere on this immense planet
haters reside
and the lot of them are barracking
for the hater's side

hate if you will
as you've swallowed
a hurtful pill

for those who've genuine love in their hearts
surely wouldn't keep upsetting your carts
I have a confession
It's called an obsession.
A preoccupation
With my aggression
I feel it building
Like Lego for adults
Doctors say it's part
and parcel of my
Depression.
If that's the case then
All serial killers
and not nice people
are just depressed.
Not obsessed with hurt
or pain or emotion.
Just a little down
Take a pill
Chill.
Don't ****
Don't obsess
You're just depressed.
© JLB
every time I blew out the candles, I wished for you
You are the lighthouse that beacons me toward safety,
preventing me from crashing into my past yet again.
your light keeps me on the right path
instead of plunging me into the eternal abyss that is my very soul
 May 2014 Jessica Head
Margaret
I liked that poem
before it was trending.
Just a little humor to add to my seriousness!
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