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Literature Text
Daddy, daddy, why are people oh so very cold
Why can't I have what they have, a teddy bear to hold
Something I can fall asleep on, somewhere i can stay
Some place where the roof above keeps us from skies so grey
Daddy, why can't we be one of those who have a home
Why were we the ones to walk the empty streets alone
Daddy, why won't anybody let us find a place
It is getting cold, I hate the look upon your face
Daddy, please don't fall upon the icy, frozen ground
Daddy, one day we will find a place, so safe and sound
Daddy, please don't die here, please, we'll find a place to stay
Daddy... please don't leave me here, just please don't die away.
Daddy, let me sit there as you know you can't be saved
Next to you as we both rest inside our lonely graves
Let us dream of somewhere warm and somewhere oh so sweet
Daddy, daddy, tell me.. why was everyone so mean?
Why can't I have what they have, a teddy bear to hold
Something I can fall asleep on, somewhere i can stay
Some place where the roof above keeps us from skies so grey
Daddy, why can't we be one of those who have a home
Why were we the ones to walk the empty streets alone
Daddy, why won't anybody let us find a place
It is getting cold, I hate the look upon your face
Daddy, please don't fall upon the icy, frozen ground
Daddy, one day we will find a place, so safe and sound
Daddy, please don't die here, please, we'll find a place to stay
Daddy... please don't leave me here, just please don't die away.
Daddy, let me sit there as you know you can't be saved
Next to you as we both rest inside our lonely graves
Let us dream of somewhere warm and somewhere oh so sweet
Daddy, daddy, tell me.. why was everyone so mean?
Literature
The quiet ones
The Quiet Ones
It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for:
the ones who sit in class, doodling in their notebooks.
Alone they're harmless and keep to themselves.
But don't be fooled, their brains are a flurry of activity.
Put two or more of them together, and you'll wonder what the heck happened.
These "quiet ones" start talking, start plotting.
They've planned each other's brutal deaths....multiple times.
They've discussed the zombie apocalypse....and how they'd start it.
The end of the world has four backup plans....to ensure its demise.
And you can almost guarantee your death has been penciled in for next Tuesday.
So be caref
Literature
why we pity angels
to him;
you are afraid of phonecalls. you
are afraid of your own voice, and
opening your ribcage to let
your heart come live on your sleeve.
you are afraid of living without caffeine
or alcohol, whatever the day calls for;
you are afraid of being real
without laughing afterwards, becoming
everything you worked so hard to get
away from, acknowledging all
that you still are. know this:
I am afraid of loud noises.
I am afraid of honesty and drowning,
people I don’t know and words
I won’t say. I am afraid
of growing old and living alone and
you not accepting me. I am afraid
of myself. In that, we are the same.
to her;
I have the
Literature
R.I.P Words
Do you know what it feels like?
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have not
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about a dying homeless girl.
comments?
comments?
© 2012 - 2024 MikkiMarie
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I didn't cry. What does that tell you about myself?