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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Same Old Thing.. Different Daydots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: jackz
    ASL Info:    24/F/OH
    Elite Ratio:    3.76 - 591/623/381
    Words: 239
    Class/Type: Fanfic/Depressed
    Total Views: 447
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1802



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsSame Old Thing.. Different Daydots
    -------------------------------------------


    I wish to take these emotions of
    Hatred, Rage, Loneliness, Uselessness
    Box them up throw a bow on it, put it in the mail box
    Ship them to some godforsaken place
    Where no one ever has to live this constant pain
    or same old struggles and memories of drug addiction
    Memories of the night I decided to take my life, but obviously couldn't even do that right
    Now forever living with the scars from that gun which did not do its job!
    Feelings of wanting nothing more than to be "Daddy's Little Girl"
    or the wishful thinking I had for so long...
    Hoping that by allowing my step dad to "show" his love for me
    in the way he did, that then I "Would" .. I "Could" be Daddy's Little Girl..
    Ohh but how wrong was I?!

    Instead I live with nightmares I cannot recall yet I wake others up from
    I live with constant feelings of worthlessness
    Never will a man love me for me..
    No they will only love me for the sexual things that may happen between us..

    I am nothing but a piece of trash
    a piece of property..
    Use me, Abuse me, Discard me..
    And, when your tired of me throw me out
    everyone else has




    Submitted on 2011-12-03 08:59:33     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Aw, I'm sorry you feel this way, sweetie. This is a very powerful write, and sadly I can relate to some of it too. Reading stuff like this makes me want to give your dad his comeuppance. He's the worthless one, not you.

    Hugs,
    Amy
    | Posted on 2011-12-04 00:00:00 | by cuddledumplin | [ Reply to This ]
      this reminds me of the emotions i felt writing "Best Table"

    give me one face while stabbing me in the back...love and abuse in the same breath...

    it hurts to feel worthless...i was here...i had to think of a reason not to...i felt the real "me" was not worth existing..and no one could really love me for me...that that person wouldn't want to....

    but we are worth something even if others don't always see it...others sometimes don't look hard enough..but self-esteem once it is destroyed is hard to rebuild...that is for sure.

    could i borrow one of those bows?

    next to last line..."when you're tired"

    but a poem that really comes from the guts of a heart.

    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-12-04 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]


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