Our
                        Whole
                         Lives
                         Are made
                         Of blades.
                         We couldn't
                        Live without
                        Them. It's the
                        Sharpened steel
                        Doctors us to bring
                        Us into our life.
                        It's the cool metal
                        That cuts the
                        Wood to build
                        Our homes.
                        We taunt with
blades keeping such deadly weapons in our homes. To cut our food, and groom our faces. But the greatest irony      
                 comes from life itself,
                for the very blades we
                     Use to protect and
                       Keep our life,
                     Turned around
                     Destroy our very
                     Being and cause
                    Our lives to bleed
                 From the fatal wound
                      Making the end  
           Harmonize with the beginning

I'm in the bold.
He's in the italics.

"Well, you haven't spoken to me since xmas so I kinda figured you were done wanting to hear from me."

"Yeah, I regret that."

"I usually make it into people's regrets, oddly enough."

"Don't say that"

"I'll say what I want."


YOU LIAR.

Steps to taking the easy way out

1. Take the bullets out of the gun. Leaving your family is harder than one thinks.

2. Love your self. For some days the hate will have ****** dammed into your sub conscious, convincing you of your futile existence.

3. When hanging yourself, forget how to tie knots. Loosen your pain. Use the rope to anchor yourself, stand your ground.

4. Repeat steps 1-3. These situations will occur again. Don't be afraid to memorize your worth.

5. Keep the medicine cabinet closed. There are demons behind those double doors that want to dissect you.

6. Breathe.

7. Stop running. This isn't a marathon.

8. Take the bullets back out of the gun, you are not in season and so refuse target practice.

9. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat step 9 until enlightenment occurs.

Yeah, just tired.

They threw me from heaven
when the pearly white of my wings
Faded to ashen grey
and darkened further with my mind.

They say the white feathers mirror
an angel's purity and righteousness.
That my blacked feathers reflected
a rotting heart and malice in my mind.

But what righteousness is there
when one being decides
the everlasting fate of many?
What is right and what is wrong?

An angel with blackened feathers
is no longer welcome in paradise.
For once I understand,
There is no justice in faith.

The fallen shall remain fallen,
The disgraced angel shall not return,
But shall instead find the truth and
take comfort in knowledge no longer forbidden.

I'm a passerby
     On this road of life
    Sleeping all day
        Zombie by night
  No purpose
      No reason
           No rhyme
   In this winter season
       The only thing
     I want to find
          Is a quiet
  Lonely place
To slowly waste away
        and
             **die

WHAT IF WE HAD A SUPER BOWL, MEANT ONLY FOR GOD?  AS HE MAKES A TOUCH DOWN INTO THE ARENA, EVERYONE WILL START PRAISING THE LORD.
IN GOD'S ARENA, HE HAS ONE PURPOSE IN MIND.  HE WANTS EVERYONE TO MAKE A GOAL, ALL BEFORE HALF TIME.
IN GOD'S ARENA, AT THE LINE OF SCRIMAGE IS WHERE HE'LL START.  THE PEOPLE WILL BEGAN WORSHIPING HIM WITH ALL THEIR HEART.
IN GOD'S ARENA, THE DEVIL CANNOT PENETRATE.  EVERYONE IS WELL PROTECTED, UNTIL THEY REACH THE PEARLIE GATE.
BY, AUTHOR & POET,  SANDRA JUANITA NAILING