《Poetry of the Soon Dead》 Stolen Tears I write and my writing brings tears to your eyes. And in a way I feel like each tear that you cry is partially mine. I can''t cry for myself, my pains far too small. But I easily cry for you, one and all. And when I tell you your tears are technically mine, Each one of you doubt and question my lines.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I try to explain I didn''t steal them for me, Ok. . . I stole them only out of dire need. Manipulation, I promise, was not my intent. However, I needed empathy from one or two If I''m being honest, I did not think it would work. But emotions pour out when my pen gets used. People feel what i feel, and break where I do My writing un-buries the pain they fought through Sometimes they cry and sometimes they laugh Each emotion they show repairs a small crack. So truly, I tell you, I''m sorry (a bit) I used your emotions for a very good cause Not one tear was wasted, I promise I used them. Each up and down, you guys helped me through them. Thanks for your help, I bid you adieu Hopefully my confessions won''t stop future you From reading again and wading carefully through The emotion you feel, and growing in love for a younger version of you. I Knew A Girl I knew a girl. Once. She was scared to get close to people And she was the bane of the silence. I knew a girl. Once. She found her worth in her intelligence. Her main goal was to prove someone wrong. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. I knew a girl. Once. She had very large dreams. She was much weaker than she seemed. I knew a girl. Once. She always looked tough. She was scared that she wasn''t enough. I knew a girl. Once. She was always running from her mind. Never letting anyone see her cry. I knew a girl. Once. I haven''t seen her in some time. Oftentimes I wonder how she''s been. I knew a girl. Once. Now I only ever see her at night. In mirrors, in puddles, and in reflecting light. I knew a girl. Once. But I pretend she never was. Yet still, she lurks when I cry. I knew a girl. Once. She craved long hugs. The love she was given was never enough. I knew a girl. Once. I think she''s happier now. Than she ever was. I knew a girl. Once. I Dont Take Pictures Anymore. I Don''t Take Pictures Anymore I don''t take pictures anymore. It makes me sad. I don''t take pictures anymore. I want them back. I don''t take pictures anymore. Google photos reminds me of that fact. Taking me to see times that have passed. Stolen novel; please report. I don''t take pictures anymore. I don''t have horses. My life doesn''t feel alive. I don''t take pictures anymore. Not because I can''t. There''s just nothing to show. I don''t take pictures anymore. I think it is because I''m not fighting anymore. There are no impressive fights or wins. I just don''t take pictures anymore. I don''t take pictures anymore. But I want to. I don''t take pictures anymore. But maybe that will pass. I don''t take pictures anymore. But maybe I will start. I used to take pictures. When I was proud or amazed. I guess now I''m numb in a daze. I will take more pictures. And notice how I feel Instead of seeing through a dark black veil. I realized why I don''t take pictures. It''s because there''s no one to show. Mom isn''t there anymore when I come home. I realized why I don''t take pictures. It''s cuz I feel alone. Nobody cares anymore. No one knows. I realized why I don''t take pictures. No one listens to my stories. No wants to hear my dreads. I realized why I don''t take pictures. I fear I maybe never will. If I can''t find someone who cares. Hurt People Hurt People Maybe he was important to her story? But she never knew his name. And he never kissed her face.. . So it probably didn''t matter, who knows? But maybe he was important to her story. That guy she can''t picture. Who never met her, ever. But holds half her DNA. And maybe he was important too. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Like the man he tried to replace. Almost her father In name and in face. But he wasn''t perfect either. He cracked her fragile shell. She wasn''t sure how it happened So she felt she couldn''t tell. Maybe he was important to her story too The first guy she thought she loved. Who kissed her face, called her names And touched her until she was surely DONE. Maybe he also mattered to her tale. The first man to fight the bullies In her head and out of doors Who told her not to put up with them any more. He gets a mention too : The one who said she was a stunning work of art Who gained nothing from his saying But closed a crack in her small strained heart. Maybe he deserves a chapter here Who let her learn that weakness can be strength. She learned to cry she learned to fight Accidentally, in the shelter of his wings. Hey! She is in here too : The person who knew everything about her. And still said with a hug and all her truth, ''I wanted you to know, that I am proud of you.'' You might have a chapter too Without you even knowing. Which she may have written down with no emotion showing. Hopefully this story ends with a smile on her face Because she deserves it, and you do too. Just like everybody else In this broken hearted place. Im dying. I''m Dying. I thought you should know. It''s terminal. Nothing can be done. I''m dying. I may not make it through this year Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Every minute brings me closer To my final breath. I''m dying. Bit by bit. Day by day. Scar by scar I''m dying. There''s no guess For when the moment comes. But it is undeniably true. I''m dying. As I look back on my time I see a million things I wish, now, I had changed. I''m dying. I love you. You made my days happier. Goodbye. I''m dying. I''m sorry. I just now realized. I''ll miss you. I''m dying. What will people say. When my family comes To lay me in my grave. I''m dying. And I''m never coming back. I think my heart is breaking Crack by piercing crack.