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Description
You liar.

How could I ever believe someone like you? How could I trust you? How could I have loved you?

Fool me once, Shame on you.

I had always thought you were one of the greatest people alive. Your talk of Fairies, of magic. I saw the world with an imaginitive light. I saw how beautiful the

world was, how the Goddess gave each of us woman such great gifts. Of course, I also thought you could do no wrong.

Fool me twice, Shame on me.

What I fool I had been, to think all of that. You wanted my affection, you bought things. Things i never wore, or played with. And the little electronic things, like a

Furby. What the Hell? I was the child who would undress, then redress the Barbie, nothing more. My sister is the one who played house with them. I was the one who

wanted to help in the kitchen, who wanted to assist in things because it made me feel important. When my sibblings were born, I backed away a bit. They were my hope,

because I looked at them, on saw innocence. I saw, joy.

I suppose, you making me a big sister was one of the best things you could have done for me. Although, trying to make my sister and I 'Twins' was kinda lame.

Seriously, I was two year older. But I didn't care, i would work with her. We would talk, in hushed voices, in near-silent ways. She couldn't hear very well, and knew

I was sensitive to sound. That's why she only screeched when she was truely angry. She would make a grunting sound, at least, that's what you would hear. I heard the

words, almost barked out. I would repeat them for her, in my strong, loud voice.

When he was born, you pushed him away. My Sister was your object of affection, I was too, but I had that habit of ignoring it. Ignoring you. I played with him, I was

the one who taught him his alphabet. Dad and I always made sure he knew we loved him. Now-a-days, my sister does too.

I'm still afraid of magic, did you know that? So afraid, the word sends shivers down my spine. When I feel the magic I harness, my breathing cuts off. Sometimes,

because I never use it, it closes around my heart. In a silent revenge. Ever wonder why I suddenly go silent, and squirm a bit in my seat? Oh that's right, you aren't

there to see it. My sibblings do. They think I don't notice, but every time I grip my shirt, over that beating organ, I'm watched.

I cry in my sleep. Yes, I have the ablity to cry. Aren't you learning all sorts of new things? I cry, sometimes I talk. I know my dreams, I beg you, implore you to

return. In the end, I get angry. Livid. I swear that I hate you, and mutter that I wish that you never existed.

Lies. I suppose I am the liar too. Because I still love you. I still wait, hoping that one day you will see the bruises, battle marks, and scars. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I

WEAR THEM ON MY SLEEVE!

Believe it or not, I'm rather open. Well, I am now. She saved my life you know. From all the way up north. At the time, she was a complete stranger. She even loved

someone else. And she saved me. Probally without realizing it. We met simply by me talking to her. About issues she was having. And then we just became friends,

talking and she brought many silent smiles to my face. I waited for each of her messages. Even now, her messages are sacred, and when I recieve them, I smile just the

tinest bit? Why?

Because she does what you didn't. She turned, saw the blood I've shed. She noticed my existance.

And I had never asked her too.
At the time, I hadn't wanted her too.

But she made her way, without me noticing, into my heart. And later on, she had told me, what no other had.

'You have a heart of glass.'

Her words, not mine. They weren't ment to be poetic. It was an observation.

One that you never made.

She's known me a year.

you've known me Fifteen.

Why is it, that I can break down, and cry, to someone I have never yet met face-to-face with,
but can't shed a tear in front of the woman who birthed me?

You must be doing something wrong.

Because I love her more than I will ever love you.

Or maybe.....

Maybe I'm wrong.

But,

Am I supposed to cry in my sleep, over someone who gave me away?

Who am I to know?

I suppose I can ask my Girlfriend or Mom.

Oh, and by the way,
Jamie,
You aren't my mother.
You might have birthed me,
but you don't love me.

And if you do,

then you've fooled me three times.

Who do we shame now?

Description
You liar.

How could I ever believe someone like you? How could I trust you? How could I have loved you?

Fool me once, Shame on you.

I had always thought you were one of the greatest people alive. Your talk of Fairies, of magic. I saw the world with an imaginitive light. I saw how beautiful the

world was, how the Goddess gave each of us woman such great gifts. Of course, I also thought you could do no wrong.

Fool me twice, Shame on me.

What I fool I had been, to think all of that. You wanted my affection, you bought things. Things i never wore, or played with. And the little electronic things, like a

Furby. What the Hell? I was the child who would undress, then redress the Barbie, nothing more. My sister is the one who played house with them. I was the one who

wanted to help in the kitchen, who wanted to assist in things because it made me feel important. When my sibblings were born, I backed away a bit. They were my hope,

because I looked at them, on saw innocence. I saw, joy.

I suppose, you making me a big sister was one of the best things you could have done for me. Although, trying to make my sister and I 'Twins' was kinda lame.

Seriously, I was two year older. But I didn't care, i would work with her. We would talk, in hushed voices, in near-silent ways. She couldn't hear very well, and knew

I was sensitive to sound. That's why she only screeched when she was truely angry. She would make a grunting sound, at least, that's what you would hear. I heard the

words, almost barked out. I would repeat them for her, in my strong, loud voice.

When he was born, you pushed him away. My Sister was your object of affection, I was too, but I had that habit of ignoring it. Ignoring you. I played with him, I was

the one who taught him his alphabet. Dad and I always made sure he knew we loved him. Now-a-days, my sister does too.

I'm still afraid of magic, did you know that? So afraid, the word sends shivers down my spine. When I feel the magic I harness, my breathing cuts off. Sometimes,

because I never use it, it closes around my heart. In a silent revenge. Ever wonder why I suddenly go silent, and squirm a bit in my seat? Oh that's right, you aren't

there to see it. My sibblings do. They think I don't notice, but every time I grip my shirt, over that beating organ, I'm watched.

I cry in my sleep. Yes, I have the ablity to cry. Aren't you learning all sorts of new things? I cry, sometimes I talk. I know my dreams, I beg you, implore you to

return. In the end, I get angry. Livid. I swear that I hate you, and mutter that I wish that you never existed.

Lies. I suppose I am the liar too. Because I still love you. I still wait, hoping that one day you will see the bruises, battle marks, and scars. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I

WEAR THEM ON MY SLEEVE!

Believe it or not, I'm rather open. Well, I am now. She saved my life you know. From all the way up north. At the time, she was a complete stranger. She even loved

someone else. And she saved me. Probally without realizing it. We met simply by me talking to her. About issues she was having. And then we just became friends,

talking and she brought many silent smiles to my face. I waited for each of her messages. Even now, her messages are sacred, and when I recieve them, I smile just the

tinest bit? Why?

Because she does what you didn't. She turned, saw the blood I've shed. She noticed my existance.

And I had never asked her too.
At the time, I hadn't wanted her too.

But she made her way, without me noticing, into my heart. And later on, she had told me, what no other had.

'You have a heart of glass.'

Her words, not mine. They weren't ment to be poetic. It was an observation.

One that you never made.

She's known me a year.

you've known me Fifteen.

Why is it, that I can break down, and cry, to someone I have never yet met face-to-face with,
but can't shed a tear in front of the woman who birthed me?

You must be doing something wrong.

Because I love her more than I will ever love you.

Or maybe.....

Maybe I'm wrong.

But,

Am I supposed to cry in my sleep, over someone who gave me away?

Who am I to know?

I suppose I can ask my Girlfriend or Mom.

Oh, and by the way,
Jamie,
You aren't my mother.
You might have birthed me,
but you don't love me.

And if you do,

then you've fooled me three times.

Who do we shame now?