

MotherWake up in the dark of night to strangers in my head turns out you cling to lifeMother
as I'm called from my bed.
You seem to have forgotten your daughters in their room and how we always love you even when you use the broom
Bruises and the screaming are two different kinds of pain I can lie about the physical but the latter makes me feign
No matter how you hate yourself I think I'll always hate you more For the little you find to love the more of you I tend to adore.


Train HoppingShriek of the whistleTrain Hopping
Vibration of the tracks I'm hopping this old train
I ain't never comin' back.
Across the whole country or just the next town over no destinations planned just far from my lover
The wind on my face will dry my wet eyes the cool steel boxcar will never tell me lies
The coal fire smoke will air out my mind I'm hopping this old train and leaving it all behind


The CellmateYou just want to sleepThe Cellmate
and she won't shut up.
She goes up and down,
round and round,
but always back
to the same old thing...
the unknown.
Every move she makes,
like thunder in this hellish concrete room.
Tossing and turning,
she shivers and kicks from the cold. Her coarse uniform
scratching, hissing against the rough vinyl pad "they" call a mattress.
Her only comforts... a blanket small and scratchy, a pillow made fr
Thanks a lot for the fav
Have a great day!
--
Mind on paper_
--
"Life handed us a paycheck, we said 'We worked harder than this!'"
--
"Life handed us a paycheck, we said 'We worked harder than this!'"
--
KEEP THE PENCIL HAND STRONG
1314 OUT
--
We only see starlight because all the stars are bleeding.
--
KEEP THE PENCIL HAND STRONG
1314 OUT
--
my website- [link]
Every good painter paints what he is -Jackson Pollock
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