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Marina Morales Sep 2014
I am ****** to repel my lovers.
I am ****** to love more than the other.
I love too **** hard. I give too much of myself.
I splatter myself on walls and my excess dribbles though the cracks

and spills over great spaces.
I don’t know what it is to be subtle or gentle.

All this hurt that I’ve known to be a constant truth                        
has made me timid and infantile in nature.
I’m impulsive and thoughtless…and shaken.
I love too **** hard. My hands are covered in grime from the guts of all the beautiful butterflies that I have crushed in my life.
I cannot wash the guilt  from my encrusted fingers.
I’m trembling. I beg, I plea for the butterflies to perch here.
Even though I know I am not a safe place to stay…
Time and time again I can hear my beloved ones crunch in my grasp
I wince with guilt and do it once more.

Yet still I try. Yet I still think I can make myself better.
Who am I to believe such lies?
Who am I to drag someone into this sick, selfish, and perverse mess?
Who am I?
Did I ever have fingers in the first place? Perhaps they were claws.
Maybe I’ve been a malicious spider from the start.

Born from hatred and ****** to give into hunger.
I’ve been fooling these poor creatures that I can be something else.

It is now beyond question what I am.

I am rotten at my core.

Let justice be served for those who have been burned.
I am rotting.

Let the insects take me over.

Let them exact their revenge on my corpse.

I had it coming all along.
Another thing of writing from a year ago.  This is me struggling on how to love myself and not be a burden to my loved ones. My struggle to not suffocate them with what I thought was love, but was actually desperation. I think part of this lends itself to my past  experiences of being abused by my own mother, and not knowing how to love someone else. I was drowning and I felt like I could not be "fixed". I feared following in her abusive footsteps.
ALSO:  I actually really like this one a lot, even though it still hurts me to read. I am better now though. :) Always working towards recovery and self improvement.
Marina Morales Sep 2014
I really wish I didn’t give a **** about so many things.
    I care about things and people that I really should not care about. It isn’t good for my health.
    It’s  absolutely exhausting.
    It wears down on my soul.
    Over time I’ve realized that my soul is like an old ***** dish rag that has been tossed and burned and wrung out too many times by too many people I’ve cared for.
    I’ve had many people go down the wrong road in life and become shells of who they once were
    …I’ve had too many die.
    I’ve reached out far too many times and each time my hand gets burnt.
    I’m absolutely exhausted and I can’t learn from all the times I’ve been burned.
    I’m becoming uncomfortably numb to these situations.
    Someone may die tonight…” oh…”
    Yeah, You know what they say, right?
    ”You can lead a horse to water, but you cant make em’ drink.”
    All my life I’ve been trying to force horses to drink the ****** water and I have to sit there and watch them shrivel up and die right in front of me. Time and time again.
    "Get up, ******* it! PLEASE get up! All You have to do is ******* drink this! Do you hear me? I’m trying to help you! PLEASE GET UP!"
    …Do you have any idea what that’s like?
    I feel like a fool who should stop fighting.
This is from a year ago...Pretty sure this isn't a poem, but more rambling, than anything. This something I wrote during a moment of depression and feelings about giving up on people in crisis, because I usually got hurt in the process or lost them.  This is about my personal experience losing friends to toxic people, drug/ alcohol -addiction , poor decisions, and worst of all...suicide.. It wears on you after a while trying to save people who slap your hand away. You become tired and jaded. You just want to sleep forever and never worry about another soul again. (God, I  am so emo)

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