Not really untitled

Escape: a short and sweet poem by the petty poet production.

She sleeps by the window still

Hoping the cold will take her breathe

Not a day goes by that she doesn’t await this death

A sweet reminder of times that past

A goodbye forever to those who never had

An escape from the future of which she craves

A slow drag into a muddy grave

But, alas, she slumber on

Wishing to kiss death with all her might

Only to wake to the unforgiving morning light

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I hate challenges and other extreme sports

Ok not going to lie, I failed, I have failed big time. Started to do a monthly challenge and like many thing in life, I failed.

I gave it a good start but then things happened and I just forgot or just had nothing to write.

Not sure why I make these kinds of promises. Was that sentience even correct. I can’t believe that I had to autocorrect sentience.

Goodness me.

I feel like I have much ranting to get in with but I will not. Instead I will stop making promises and actually start doing stuff. Write when I can write. Like actually take the time to do the things I say I will do. Stop saying and just do it.

I feel like I will start babbling soon. It is a special skill of mine. Going on and on about nothing is particular. I am extra good at going off on a tangent. Pretty sure extra good was the wrong thing to say….or put there…maybe it fits.

I am not sure! I freaking failed the grammar portion of every test I have ever taken and that includes Japanese as well.

Yep, I am so bad at grammar that I even failed it in a different language. Is that a skill? I am not sure but I have it.

Day 4

Bullet your whole day

7:00 Woke up

7:30 Woke up once more

7:35 Realised that I really needed to get up

8:00 When I actually got up and got dressed.

8:45 Left house to attend church meeting.

NOONISH!! Left church meeting thanking the Lord that they feed us breakfast cause I had forgotten to eat.

2:00 ish ate Lunch

3:00 Convinced Toddler to lay down for a nap

4:00 Toddler laid down for a nap

4:05 Started cleaning

4:50 Napped

5:15 Toddler woke up

5:37 Started Dinner

6:00 ordered Pizza cause I screwed up Dinner

8:30 Got toddler to bed

9:00 Read a book

12 Remembered to go to bed

2:00 Ish Went to bed.

Day 3

A book you love.

I love a lot of books so this one will be extremely difficult.

I guess to make it easier I can explain what types of books I love. I am a sucker for romance. Not to say I will not read a book without it but 9/10 I am more likely to reach for a book that has some of romance in it.

I love a good book with a believable plot. That no matter how farfetched it may be it can still seem like reality if you don’t really think about it hard enough. There are some stories where something happens that is unbelievable. I am reading a book where dogs can turn into people. There is no clear explanation of why this happens, only that it does when the dog forms a deep and unbreakable bond with their families. This doesn’t happen for all dogs of course. What makes it somewhat annoying to me is just how easily people accept this. All the love interest are totally ok with their S.O turning into dogs. Like completely ok with this. So far, in the three books I have read, no one has really freaked out about it aside from a group of villains. And who wouldn’t freak out when you have a a group of various breeds of dogs coming at your throat and one just killed your accomplice. He had every right to panic.

The thing is, no one else does.

I also read another book. An amazing book that I love where the main character is an artist who suffers from a mental illness. This illness makes it so he has episodes of extreme anger and distrust. He is extremely promiscuous and wishes others to hurt him even if they do not want to. He is all shades of messed up (ha see what I did there) and needs help. He manages to not only befriend some random good person but have them fall in love with him as well. A seemingly straight guy he so happened to find and bone turned out to be this amazing dude who ends up loving him with all his soul. Now this isn’t a spoiler. You could see this coming from the get go. What I do not get, and can’t believe, is how much abuse this guy is willing to put up with for a guy he doesn’t know. No one in this side of reality does things like that. Especially with everything he put him through. Even I, who suffers from the same disability as the protagonist, would have said duces a long time ago. They are complete strangers and took insta-love to a whole new level.

Now despite these little pet peeves of mine (don’t worry I got plenty) I still love this books and their authors.

I love a book that confuses me. That makes me react. That makes me want to throw it down and scream at everyone and everything. I want to cry, I want to laugh,I want that when I finish a book and look up, I see the world in a different light.

It doesn’t have to happen all at once but a combination of the above must be going on for me to want to read it. There are series I never get tired of and there are others I can’t ever read again despite how amazing it was.

I grew up with Harry Potter being my freaking bible. Where Scary Stories to tell in the Dark truly scared the shit out of me. When R.L.Stine made me question my sanity (I was nearly always in love with the bad guy). All that has crossed into my adulthood. If I am not questioning my sanity after reading a book was it really worth It?

Today I am going back to years beyond and am reading The Tricksters Choice by Tamora Pierce. This is one series I can read over and over again without getting bored and still find something new to love about it.

Maybe I will even write a review for it. Who knows.

The Liar in me

Eating a small childs candy shouldn’t make me feel like a monster…but it does. Especially if that child is my own. Most times then naught she will go lookong for said candy in hopes of having it for herself. There are times when I just tell her that she may have misplaced the candy or may have already eaten it.

Of course it is a lie but I do it every time. With Halloween coming around I start to fear for my sanity. Just how many pieces of chocolate will go missing?

How many now and laters will I consume before she starts to take notice?

Granted many of the candies I eat she is to young to have but when will it end???

I often have to remind myself that in only a few short years she will be able to go trick or treating without me. She will be able to count and control her hoard of sweets. I will be left out unless I do the right thing….be an adult and buy my own candy instead of stealing my daughters.

But what kind of parent would I be if I didn’t teach her not to share. At least that is what I am telling myself as I munch on her jawbreakers.

Story of make believeĀ 

Hello, I am black

It is not who I am but the color of my skin

Not my name but what I am known for

Hello,I am black

This is a statement and fact

Something to which I can not change

No matter how much others may want it

I can not dye it a certain flavor

To make it easier for others to savour

It doesn’t change my insides

Though I know how much you want me to hide

Hi, I am black

This fact holds me back

Makes others decide my fate in life

Not allowed to say my piece before it is pointed out to me

That I am, in fact, black

Judge and hated by those who crave it

A rebellious phase to touch

Punished lust, so hide we must

Locked doors with a passion

My skin worn like Fashion

Hello, I am black

This statement brings a bad taste to your mouth

Apology accepted for your ancestors lies

Yet sit and swallow your own words everytime a

Black person gives you a verse

Judge least not be judged

Your ancestors chose a path that you have since denied

Yet you turn a blind eye to what has not changed

Hi, I am black

I am still suppose to sit towards the back

Accept the fact that you are the golden one

Shut my mouth against the hurt and the pain

That you have since spit anyways

But it is not always your fault

See others who share my trait still hate

Still try and hit me behind the stable

Cause I am different and unable

To love someone with the same traits

The same facts as me.

Call me a slave who loves thy master

Stockholm Syndrome spewed from a friendly pastor.

Whose only saving Grace is their age.

Their wisdom behind what truly happened.

Laying with the same face that beats and rapes

Is this what was suppose to happen?

Have I made my ancestors proud?

Hello, I am black

And this fact has shaped my very being

Made me say an do things I do not mean

Made me afraid of change for change sake

Made me hate those who continue to debate the truth

The truth being that I am just like you.

With all my traits, we are the same

On the inside at least

My skin should not be the factor for my future and my past

Should not be the reason I am set back by the classes

Hated by masses who look like me

Speak like me

Think like me

All because I am black

Hated by those who hurt like me

Who are broken like me

Who live their lives like me

Because I decided to ignore the divide

And love someone I shouldn’t

There is a thin line between us all yet I dared to be the bridge

So watch as others shield the eyes of their kids

Watch as they turn their backs on my fact

Because of whom I love and the color that is me

Hello, I am black

This is statement and fact

But it should not define me