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I _ _ _ _ MY MOM...I hate my mom for being stupidingly softhearted
I hate her blindness
I hate how she sees the "good" in people who are just evil
I hate how she forgives even if betrayed again
Only to forgive yet again
I hate how she sacrifices for someone not worth it
I hate that she cares so much
I hate how she worries about someone
who is not even worried about her in the slightness
I hate how she continues to support someone
who failed her a thousand times
I hate her warmth
and her brightness annoyingly blinds me
I hate that she is that kind of a mother.
I hate her really hate her really really hate her!
But most of all I hate myself for being hateful
For being cold hearted,
For being stubborn,
For being selfish, and self-centered
And for loving her despite of that
I **** MY MOM
me, myself, and iRENeI miss me
The lost me..
The old me
The simple me
The shallow me..
The innocent me..
The child in me..
Where are you?
Where am I?
Can you find me?
Or shall I find you?
Will I ever?
A world where I scream
The infinite words of silence
Where no one hears
Yet they understand
Where people walk
Upon their eyes fall behind
Speak this world where
Only I know
I can't comprehend
This meaning of this
An everlasting mistake
As my days become my nights
My nights become days
I realized time sleeping
In the depths of nothingness
What do I do?
What do I have to do?
To make things
Things on my mind
Be like those of numbered alphabets
Leave behind the baggage
I didn't even know what's inside
Or go on and move forward
For things that may come but hide
Seek what is time?
Or seek what is in front of me?
Find me for I am lost in the darkness
Blinded by light
Eyes on me
Stare and love me
Why don't you see?
In my eyes I want to be
I like you
But do you?
Twisted in the arms of somebody
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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