but, But, BUT, how am I suppose to know?

Yes,
Thirteen Years.

That's how old I was.
Dropping us girls off, waiting for the light to change, and that right turn.

Did J know what was happening when he got dropped off?
Did anyone else wake with that sick feeling in their gut?

Thirteen years, a long time ago.
Twenty-Seven, here I come.

Lets make sure it hurts in the end.

Nothing

Nothing stays buried forever.

You should know that best.

how, How, HOW

each way you type that, a new meaning comes forward.

how am i suppose to trust people who have lied in the past. that is your honest face. i would know!!

if only you could hear me.

there is not that much left to yell at you.
it's no longer coming from the heart.
this is rage and hate.
the voices are slowly dwindling
the pain is more deep
from a place i'm not familiar with, yet.

thirteen years.
it's literally been twice that.
my soul hurts.



you cursed fool!


*here's your sign

Sometimes.......

sometimes i wanna ask the mexican


where does the anger and rage stem from

sometimes i wanna ask the white side (as racist as that comes across)

where do i get the right



im no better than them.
what makes me think otherwise?!


parent o'mine

you fucked up
you screwed  your children into something worse than denial




those poor souls........



I AM SORRY