tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9253593044517774152024-02-02T15:58:38.754-08:00Shades of Green and Grey.Taking notes on paper boats.P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-37969063815691227602014-03-01T17:59:00.001-08:002014-03-01T17:59:12.476-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And I know you won't ask me <br />but I'd say yes every time.<br />You hide your hands<br />ashamed of the damage<br />they could do<br />but I tell you to go ahead<br />there's nothing you could do<br />to me that I haven't already<br />done to myself.<br />Once is not enough<br />I need to love you everyday<br />to the moon and back<br />and further<br />til my eyes are blazing with it.<br />Don't worry about your own hands<br />mine can tear you apart<br />just fine</div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc;">(this image is not mine, I couldn't find the original source)</span></div>
P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-10360844362919566532012-11-27T00:50:00.002-08:002012-12-01T23:38:09.461-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mary Oliver wrote 'he is exactly the poem I wanted to write' and it's true, there is no-one else that could be made into a poem as intriguing as him. <br />
<em>If I could write him as a poem</em>, I would start it with one letter, because I think the fact that his nickname is a single letter is fascinating and I think about being called <em>M </em>and hearing the sound of my initial curling from his lips. <br />
<em>If I could write him as a poem</em>, I would put something about us having mutually curly hair and the fact that he has no pictures of himself in his profile pictures and I'd marvel about what that means.<br />
<em>If I could write him as a poem</em>, I would mention that we sat next to each other in a graduation ceremony over a year ago and how I thought his nickname was his actual name and how interesting I thought that was. <br />
<em>If I could write him as a poem</em>, I would write about how he works at the video shop near my house and how he's always so lovely there. <br />
<em>If I could write him as a poem</em>, I'd finish it with <em>Yours, M.</em><br />
<em></em><br />P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-20311554934270301452012-10-29T04:53:00.000-07:002012-10-29T04:53:22.471-07:00Back to normalIn four days I will be finished Uni for the year and I can post things on here again. Things have been so hectic the past few months so I just can't wait to be free of the work :)<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I was afraid to post writing on here because if I then submitted it as part of an assessment, the university assessment submission would say that I plagarised it from myself...and I didn't really feel like explaining to them.</span><br />
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P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-67938612208926745742012-06-05T04:59:00.001-07:002012-06-05T05:03:36.699-07:00Baby photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Helping dad fix the lawnmower :)<br /></div>
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I got really sick when I was little and had to stay in hospital for a while :(</div>
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Little monkeys :)</div>
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<em>I just love looking at old baby photos, there's nothing like the feeling you get when seeing your younger self looking so happy, and I was a pretty cute little thing I must say haha :)</em></div>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-52864350721835655912012-06-05T03:49:00.000-07:002012-06-05T05:02:25.687-07:00<div style="text-align: left;">
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Yesterday I bought myself roses,</div>
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because everyone deserves</div>
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to be given flowers</div>
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every once in a while</div>
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even if</div>
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they have to buy them</div>
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for themselves.</div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">( I accidently took these motion photos on my phone while trying to take a photo of the roses and write an essay, but I kind of like it :) )</span></em></div>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-8995479818019034152012-04-11T23:26:00.002-07:002012-04-11T23:30:45.595-07:00If I could have the names tattooed on my skin<br /> of all the people I have ever loved,<br />whether fiercely or simply<br />because of a single glance<br />exchanged across a crowd,<br />or the brush of fingertips<br />accidentally exchanged<br />across a table.<br />Then maybe when I die<br />they will look at my body<br />and say she loved many,<br />and if the reasons I loved them,<br />were there as well,<br />then my entire body<br />shall be covered with ink -<br />evidence of love<br />and being loved,<br />proof of a life<br />lived in love<br />shall be written<br />all over my skin.P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-23749254492681115252012-04-01T05:29:00.002-07:002012-04-01T05:33:06.248-07:00I will show you fear in a handful of dust.<br /> - T. S. ElliotP.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-83801970952639396772012-03-18T04:44:00.000-07:002012-03-18T04:45:10.056-07:00<em>I will love where I am right now.</em>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-46265036576163557332012-02-10T04:26:00.000-08:002012-02-10T04:33:17.802-08:00My parents have been<br />tiptoeing<br />around me<br />for the past few days<br />walking on eggshells<br />handling me with kid gloves<br />and all the other cliches I can think of<br />it's as if I am a tiny bird<br />they are afraid of crushing<br />or glass they are afraid of breaking<br />'How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?'<br />'Have a good day okay?'<br />'Be happy.'<br />Maybe it's working though<br />because I feel<br />better<br />within myself<br />and really<br />that's all I wantP.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-13643263016439771972012-01-21T23:21:00.000-08:002012-01-21T23:35:09.298-08:00Reading List<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF0dM4heL5O3vFxU84ZXOXhplRJoQ3sgjyEi6M4bWW-aoo06StLKqT97nwQdbNZbB0rse3gF21Or2-Q3LzXqnLj5G02SN4enzCptp7WBt7aFZbyg7LaopA-pmhVCsiadkb5QtDx9Dm6RQ/s1600/Book.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 216px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700356026410929538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF0dM4heL5O3vFxU84ZXOXhplRJoQ3sgjyEi6M4bWW-aoo06StLKqT97nwQdbNZbB0rse3gF21Or2-Q3LzXqnLj5G02SN4enzCptp7WBt7aFZbyg7LaopA-pmhVCsiadkb5QtDx9Dm6RQ/s320/Book.jpg" /></a><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div>I am writing a reading list for this year. Any suggestions on books to read? :)</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/21510023">Image here.</a></span></div>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-87386424919769072812012-01-18T04:29:00.000-08:002012-01-18T04:47:25.051-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkM2aIWJ54_JVblxc33YH2p5PNSTQnxrhtlm3lu2hoq4JPOT_JFDcfQUtKDr1IkYvO7kxtrfTQB80pMRJHREVdreKpvvpCkbIzLSOP1dF75SdwMnUU-jmVfs89rDxadxf6l7dzWm3Ri84/s1600/Stars.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698952134404470946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 195px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkM2aIWJ54_JVblxc33YH2p5PNSTQnxrhtlm3lu2hoq4JPOT_JFDcfQUtKDr1IkYvO7kxtrfTQB80pMRJHREVdreKpvvpCkbIzLSOP1dF75SdwMnUU-jmVfs89rDxadxf6l7dzWm3Ri84/s320/Stars.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Calibri;">I’d like to hold your hand under the stars</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">While we rename constellations</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">And watch shooting stars </span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Carving their way through the sky</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Leaving trails of light</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Wondering if we saw them</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Two wishes</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">But I forgot</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">And which ones are planets?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Do they sparkle?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">Or flicker?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">'That one looks red.'</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">‘I’d like to be made out of stars.’</span><br /><span style="font-family:Calibri;">‘You are.’<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></p>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-56264913527651769182012-01-02T01:49:00.000-08:002012-01-02T02:18:10.115-08:00I want to write about things like orange trees and feathers and that moment of darkness within before you can fall asleep and brown shiny seeds and tangled wire and the hopeful look in a dog's eyes before you close the curtain and lock the door and the shapes of clouds and the way a page sometimes falls out of a book unexpectedly and the way weeds can be beautiful and how sometimes chickens pace and pace and pace even though they won't be let out and how sometimes you find cuts and bruises that weren't there before and you don't know how they got there.P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-33736962696092597322011-12-16T02:58:00.000-08:002011-12-16T03:26:06.146-08:00Paint the town.<span style="font-family:arial;">Tonight I fell in love with a boy who let me buy my drink before he did.<br />Tonight I saw him them waved and told myself that I'd get his name or number before I left.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Tonight a boy hugged me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'Who are you?' I slurred.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'I love you.' he said.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'That's really nice,' I replied. 'Give me a hug.' </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So we hugged again then left.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Tonight I danced with a bearded boy as he spun me around and sung Adele badly.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'What do I do!?' I asked her.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I can't remember what she said but I didn't kiss him. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I kept looking for the boy I fell in love with all night but didn't see him again. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'Who was the guy you were dancing with?' he asked.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'The boy with the beard? I don't know!' I laughed.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'Did you kiss him?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'No.' I laughed again.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'I hate you.' she said when we had to leave. 'You're not my friend anymore.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">'No you don't.' I said as we left.</span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">(Not even sure what this is. I wrote it a few days ago at 3 a.m. after I had been out for the night haha)</span></em>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-50941891391021178812011-12-12T04:02:00.000-08:002011-12-12T04:37:30.021-08:00Please give up on me.I just want you to know that it wasn't for you. Since then it never has been. And I'm trying so hard to keep history from repeating itself, but even now I can see that it's happening. Is it so impossible for us to just be friends? I can't be friends with you without hurting you, and that hurts me.<br /><br />I am not going to let this happen again.P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-81297029303475219252011-12-07T20:28:00.000-08:002011-12-07T20:36:35.195-08:00Perry.It was my mother who decided on naming me <em>Perdita</em>. My father tried to talk her out of it, <em>Jessica sounds nice dear, or how about Emily?</em> But she just smiled at me and shook her head.<br />And so I became <em>Perdita</em>, but I preferred <em>Perry</em>. My father held onto the notion that once I was old enough I could change my name to whatever I liked. He told me so late one afternoon in May. <em>Now Perry</em>, he said taking both of my hands into his, <em>You know that one day, when you are older and wiser and have seen more of the world, if you still don’t like your name, you can change it to whatever you like.</em> I stared at his wrinkled, calloused hands, covered with an array of scars, going this way and that, they were a map of his life. <em>Really?</em> I asked him, and I looked up as he smiled down at me. <em>Do you promise?</em> I said to him with my chin raised, determination moulding my face into a pair of crinkled eyes and a firm mouth, just daring him to say no.<br />But he promised. And ever since then I’ve tried to figure out who I could be.<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">(This is something new. I've been having trouble writing lately, but I am attempting to change that and this is the result.)</span></em>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-21461191532156782032011-11-18T01:58:00.000-08:002011-11-18T02:12:34.623-08:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I said I wouldn't write about you but then I saw what she wrote and my heart just dropped and my shoulders sagged. What I want more than anything is just to talk to you again, to get to know you better, and for you to see that it's not her, it's me okay? I want to scream it to you at the top of my lungs IT'S ME IT'S ME IT'S ME so that it sticks in your head and so you don't forget. I haven't let my hope get this high in so long and what she wrote just brought them crashing down on top of my head. Now everytime I read it my eyes fog up and I hate her I hate her I hate her all over again. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;">This isn't very poetic or even well written, but it's emotional and that's all that matters.</span>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-1451320381420772532011-11-09T00:08:00.000-08:002011-11-09T00:16:03.385-08:00I am no longer absent. The words are slowly returning to where they should be and so am I.<br />My exams finished today, and a typewriter arrived in the mail. My formal is on Friday and I am 18 in two weeks. Everything seems to be falling into place.<br />I am tired, but content. Things are going to be stressful over the next few days as I also have a few parties and things that need to be done, but hopefully I will cope and everything will turn out fine.<br />Hopefully I can post more soon.P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-39297826687379796882011-10-14T04:20:00.000-07:002011-10-15T01:38:51.423-07:00Look what arrived in the post yesterday :)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbxF1JXXYzdhAaDAWiFSsALMkaZw6mktB-YAngA1QuyRkmnNt8ZjSWgdS7aFL8EaeA2w4aEoBkhAUsh1iPbZTPCyvgojCYN-hVxxquCRDxV5UJWWDeJw7YuubWVPn6JoRyPe4JJ8VOAo/s1600/IMG_2687.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663307927484909618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbxF1JXXYzdhAaDAWiFSsALMkaZw6mktB-YAngA1QuyRkmnNt8ZjSWgdS7aFL8EaeA2w4aEoBkhAUsh1iPbZTPCyvgojCYN-hVxxquCRDxV5UJWWDeJw7YuubWVPn6JoRyPe4JJ8VOAo/s320/IMG_2687.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWns7BXMpxDjrsYfr3GsYDX7yFQdEQR4NgjL_9SEwupftb7E5t8CKUX2JHJglUsM0DoPvb48zXzR6Do_GcodGyt1TiF3O1YZHWNvl0a7IsJLaSod5-i5grvwam6ZoQDKo-QBbQZvLIp8/s1600/IMG_2687.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><div><span style="font-size:78%;">P.s. I'm sorry to the people who's comments I haven't replied to yet. I am studying and absentminded at the moment.</span><br /></div></div>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-79847317085564644642011-09-29T04:51:00.000-07:002011-09-29T06:14:06.842-07:00Adjusting.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I haven't posted anything in what seems like forever and I haven't written anything in that long either. I don't know why the words have stopped coming, I can only guess that it's because of the pressure of the coming exams. The last thing that I wrote was a letter to her explaining things. It worked. She replied and things are better now.<br />I haven't seen any of my friends in days. Seen as in spent time with for longer than twenty minutes. I picked up a friend from the bus station today and we talked, but it's a strange feeling being cut off from everyone. I saw another last night when he gave me some religion notes, a cute letter (which I discovered later) and a kiss on the cheek. I miss our chats.<br />People always said to appreciate the last days of school, I didn't and only now I'm just starting to realise that I won't get to see certain people everyday, or catch up with people at lunch or annoy teachers with our endless chatting. This is supposed to be the best time of my life, but if that's the case, I don't get all the hype. Why wouldn't the rest of my life be better than this? </span>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-9908656527825571252011-09-12T16:58:00.000-07:002011-09-12T17:08:38.487-07:00Just understand okay?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You have to understand that I don't do things like this often. Usually I just sit back and quietly get upset over things that I won't change. But not this time okay? Please understand that I won't do that this time. I'm not an entirely selfish person, and I'm sorry if this hurts you by me making this decision. But I'm losing you anyway. Ever since you had him I've felt like you didn't need me anymore. Yes, maybe I've pulled away, but you've forgotten about me. You may not realise but you do that often. </span>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-49348530721823925832011-09-05T23:45:00.000-07:002011-09-05T23:47:55.334-07:00New followers<em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To the dear people that have recently started following my blog, it saddens me that it won't let me see who you are so I can't view your blogs or follow you back :(</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">If you could drop me a comment I'd be very grateful :)</span></em>P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-48213983565412565502011-08-29T03:01:00.000-07:002011-08-29T03:13:02.309-07:00Close Call.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJTDpvvACIl74v7OYDAEI5sPs71-hRG1WUs2CKIHJD-GdGEv855MRsSFWNBBQ9GItb9YUE29ai7TtMM71UPnNdMxhcEFEpiAK9F2Xzz7muRVfgoRbrh55oNuUYTM8W4Ci6PQpwmrvugs/s1600/Road.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646218167481429794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 391px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJTDpvvACIl74v7OYDAEI5sPs71-hRG1WUs2CKIHJD-GdGEv855MRsSFWNBBQ9GItb9YUE29ai7TtMM71UPnNdMxhcEFEpiAK9F2Xzz7muRVfgoRbrh55oNuUYTM8W4Ci6PQpwmrvugs/s320/Road.jpg" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><p></p><span style="font-family:arial;">She’s at a party and she’s drunk.
<br />Can in one hand, beer in the other.
<br />‘The innocent one.’
<br />Never kissed a boy before.
<br />She’s dancing
<br />Laughing
<br />Singing to her friend in a cubby house
<br />All the while
<br />Oblivious
<br />To how close she came.
<br />He’s wearing a dress
<br />(It was a themed party)
<br />He’s kissing her
<br />Borrows his friends keys
<br />‘I got a girl; can I have your car?’
<br />They go out the front
<br />She doesn’t know what he’s thinking
<br />‘We’re only going to kiss’
<br />She tells her friend
<br />The friend tells her not to go with him
<br />She says no
<br />A boy comes up and abuses the boy in the dress
<br />‘He’s a creep!’
<br />He tells the innocent girl
<br />She doesn’t listen
<br />Two girls come and yell at the boy in the dress
<br />‘You stay away from her!’
<br />‘Get off the road’
<br />Someone says.
<br />She is picked up and moved off the road
<br />‘No, we’re only going to kiss.’
<br />‘Do you seriously think that’s all he wants?’
<br />‘I’m strong enough to fight him off’
<br />‘No you can’t, look at the size of him
<br />And look at the size of you.’
<br />‘No!’
<br />‘Listen to me!’
<br />‘But I can’t just leave now, I’ll look stupid!’
<br />‘Grab my hand, I’ll drag you and you can pretend to resist’
<br />She is dragged away by her friend
<br />‘No, stop it!
<br />I’ll be back soon’
<br />She tells the boy in the dress.
<br />‘No you fucking will not’
<br />The other nice boy tells her.
<br />They go back to the party.
<br />A girl walks up to the boy in the dress
<br />‘I’m watching you’
<br />She says.
<br />The innocent one still doesn’t know
<br />How close she came
<br />To the things we hear about
<br />And think
<br />‘It will never happen to us.’
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<br />P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-4394444986015277192011-08-27T00:45:00.000-07:002011-08-27T00:47:35.047-07:00<em><span style="font-size:85%;">I have changed to using a comment box. I have been unable to comment on some of my favourite blogs and fear that others might have had the same problem with mine.</span></em>
<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">xx</span></em>
<br />P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-39337990325393696402011-08-21T04:28:00.000-07:002011-08-21T04:55:56.061-07:00Enough.
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<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I don't know I don't know I don't know</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">All I've been doing is saying the same things and nothing changes, nothing ever changes. </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I don't feel any different.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I drove away from her</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I just keep telling my self that <em>she deserves it she deserves it she deserves it</em></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and she does because she never changes</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I told her that she takes me for granted and that <em>one day I won't be here for you and you'll be sorry</em> </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I don't know why I said that I was just angry </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">but I meant that one day she won't be able to take me for granted anymore</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and I want that one day to be today</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">because she just doesn't appreciate me</span> </div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and I yelled and yelled</span></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and the whole time she just kept saying <em>thankyou thankyou thankyou</em> </span></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and patronising me </span></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and I could tell that she didn't give a shit</span></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">then after I left her and drove away I got scared and I just keep seeing things out of the corner of my eyes and I don't know if that's okay so I just turned the music up and wiped away the tears</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">stayed angry for a while</span> </div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">then I got home and it all started</span> </div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and now I feel bad even though it's her fault</span></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I always do</span></div>
<br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and now I'm just listening to the same song over and over </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and trying to forget the things that hurt me and keep me up at night</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">and I'm just hoping that <em>she</em> won't do something that will make me hate myself</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">even though I tried</span> </div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QRHVPH9TqdNJ1HoXb9HWeNXT0_XrHVilrKr9KWKf1Hr1JbsmFijuYGJWkn_4gPLjmjMfTwQfxDH4t1CYD38cKJryBkEDu9cJmj0yBFTo6iw5kOIluMZu8HVk_bwH0Mptbf8wHe7JV7Q/s1600/Explode.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643275776719914882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QRHVPH9TqdNJ1HoXb9HWeNXT0_XrHVilrKr9KWKf1Hr1JbsmFijuYGJWkn_4gPLjmjMfTwQfxDH4t1CYD38cKJryBkEDu9cJmj0yBFTo6iw5kOIluMZu8HVk_bwH0Mptbf8wHe7JV7Q/s320/Explode.jpg" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><div>No one's really listening.</div></div>
<br />P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925359304451777415.post-90075607582928555852011-08-21T04:07:00.000-07:002011-08-21T04:21:54.077-07:00Loveless.<em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></em>
<br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Listen.</span></em>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when your time has come and gone</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when your final race is won</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when the flowers kiss the trees</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when the king is on his knees</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when your eyes don't speak the truth </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and denial is your muse</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when your life follows a plan,</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">your convenience is banned</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you're loveless, it's okay you,ve planned it well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you will be happy to know that I've moved on as well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when a lion has it's teeth, </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and the sword rest in it's sheath</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when the liar plays the fool and the fool makes every rule</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you're loveless, it's okay you're planned it well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you will be happy to know that I've moved on as well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you're loveless, it's okay you've planned it well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">it's seemless, i already know you well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when you're alone with every one,</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">know a place to call the sun</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">there's a feeling in your bones, </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you just might end up alone</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when you're just so self assured,</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">now you're rotting at the core</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when you're challenged by the truth,</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">find some friends who lie to you</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">you're loveless, it's okay you've planned it well</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">it's seemless, I already know you well.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>
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<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCZhYf9hPCE&feature=related"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCZhYf9hPCE&feature=related</span></a>
<br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(I couldn't post the video, but I love the song.)</span></em>
<br />P.s. I am Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00894306731762203151noreply@blogger.com0