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Literature Text
"I am me.."
Who ever that may be.
Made by a world,
Not easily understood.
I am what I am.
Of race ethnicity or a sexuality.
A loner, an outcast, or unappealing you see.
Popular and attractive or just plain carefree.
I think what I want.
Not what they tell me.
With their tubes and their lies and their tricks
To try and bend me.
I am who I am.
But this is not by choice
Nor is it something given quite like an invoice.
Being me is simply a feeling
That I alone know.
Even if its something I can't easily say
And not knowing the answer straightaway.
Which starts with the words, "I am me.."
Kirsten Z. Jacob
Who ever that may be.
Made by a world,
Not easily understood.
I am what I am.
Of race ethnicity or a sexuality.
A loner, an outcast, or unappealing you see.
Popular and attractive or just plain carefree.
I think what I want.
Not what they tell me.
With their tubes and their lies and their tricks
To try and bend me.
I am who I am.
But this is not by choice
Nor is it something given quite like an invoice.
Being me is simply a feeling
That I alone know.
Even if its something I can't easily say
And not knowing the answer straightaway.
Which starts with the words, "I am me.."
Kirsten Z. Jacob
Literature
Suicidal
Blood flows from our wrists,
Making our hands turn into fists.
We only feel the pain and sorrow,
Have we given up hope for a better tomorrow?
The rope is hanging from the ceiling,
Helping us end that miserable feeling.
The pills are scattered across the floor,
Maybe we need to swallow just one more?
Others might refuse to see the cruelty of life,
While others try to end it by the knife.
Trying to get out of this cruel dream,
Sometimes all we can do is scream.
There are others like you out there,
You might not yet know where.
But they try to overcome it,
That's something not all will admit.
Every one of us needs a helping hand,
Literature
Wish for Privacy
I live behind a locked door,
And no one has the key.
It has been years, maybe more
Since someone talked to me.
The solitude was nice at first,
The quiet let me think.
But soon it took a turn for worse
Now all I do is blink.
So be careful, my dear friends,
When you wish for privacy.
Count to 5 when patience bends
Or you'll end up just like me.
Literature
Silence
Silence is the slowest form of suicide
Silence is what keeps us apart
Silence is the scream that everyone shouts
Silence is the lost dream we all have
Silence is the blood we all have spilled
Silence is what keeps us together
Silence is god in the air
Silence is the death you can bear
Silence is the reason you care
Silence is what creeps upon you at night
Silence is the chills in your spine
Silence is the reason
And the only reason
Why you haven't said these words yourself
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Author's Notes.
This piece is about one of those questions we all ask when we look ourselves in the mirror. I tried to make it relatable to everyone. (:
*This piece cannot in whole or in part be reproduced, altered or claimed in any way without my explicit permission. ~Kirsten Jacob
This piece is about one of those questions we all ask when we look ourselves in the mirror. I tried to make it relatable to everyone. (:
*This piece cannot in whole or in part be reproduced, altered or claimed in any way without my explicit permission. ~Kirsten Jacob
© 2012 - 2024 KirstenJacob
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I am ever changing like water flowing. Yet sometimes I crystallize. It is then I'm most fragile.