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Higlighted thought

Change is violent

change is violene is the destruction of ones self  to birth a new soul  and that new being is thrown at the world unaware, naive and so prideful sometimes is eaten alive an others it becomes a god but im a woman and ive known violence since the air touched me i refused to come out into the world and held my moms hand (whoever she was at the time) as if it it were last thing i would know for certain that was just self infatuation, like everything else i've loved i know nothing besides violence and my skin is injured by just thoughts but then i learned the truth i must go through change everyday to not succumb to not die with just intent but still, it doesnt make it any less worse to be a know it all  so ive grown into a warrior with a cotton armour and sometimes my voice still shakes but im heard even if the laugh once my statement ends just becuase i know violence, doesnt mean i dont flinch at the thoguh of a fist against my face im a girl and everyday i try to kill this ...
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I loved her (a friend)

i thought id be bitter forever, that in spite my words would crash hearts and end up leaving them wounded like mine was, but the anger, that once was sadness, turned out to be just a phase not like me loving every detail of your hands more like that time i only ate salt crackers for lunch or the time i obsessed over a band i have listened to in months i thought i had forgotten how to love that my brain rewired and my destiny was to be only me and for a while it felt like a relieve i no longer had to try to be lovable or even good i had given up all sense of morality and only worried about myself became self absorbed and felt enaumored by my own words became my own best friend, my own lover even and the nights i would pass convincing myself in front of the mirror while listening to those three same songs that made me feel like a god only contributed to this sense of higness that i had felt before but only that in that time, now dead, me feeling special was given by your pretty hands and...
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Some words of men

he said he can give back something he took love? i have some of that in a little bag hidden under my bed at home his shaky fingers fail at writting my name on the imaginary board not because he doesnt know it, but because he never bothered at learning to spell it he hesitates, as if im a bet and not a woman, and his breath smells like rum all of this i think i dreamt when i was seventeen during springbreak in a cold plain black room without socks on and a little shirt covering my back  i hide from men like they carry weapons on them all the time i avoid walking past them and smile i seem sweet because thats how i was thaught to be around people, not them, but everyone, as long as my mom is around so i stare at his eyes in confussion, because they seem so sure of themselves even when hes about to fail hes aware he can always try hes a god and hes never done anything to reach such a high in life but me i feel embarrased cause a misstep in heels is an act to laugh about and will burn ...
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