Thoughts by Lisa Tuter (autobiographies to read .txt) 📖

FIGHT
I wake up at the crack of Dawn
gather my gear, get my game face on.
I look to the left, look to the right,
I see Haji up ahead, I prepare for a fight.
He don't know me, I don't know him.
I fight to stay alive, not on a whim.
Some people are at home, safe in their beds
We're out here to keep a bullet out of their heads


Thoughts Of A Shadow
I go through life, gliding in the shadows.
I go unseen by ordinary people,
my best friend is the night. Death does not scare me.
I have not written this down before hand, I write what
comes into my mind.
The Crystal round my neck feels cool to the touch,
hanging from its' silver chain.
The ring on my right middle finer is warm from being worn,
the snake emblem still shiny as when it was bought.
I go throughout life, gliding in the shadows.
No one notices me, I am very good at hiding.
Every now and then someone catches a glimpse of me
and tries to cage me. I will not be trapped,
I am a shadow, I am free.

Late Night
So many thoughts
Racing through my mind.
My body is tired,
but rest I have yet to find.
THe room smells of paint,
and will again tomorrow.
Of the five walls in the room,
only one and a half are painted.
Handprints on the door,
both inside the room and out.
The paint felt cool,
paint still on my hands
Nostalgiac of some long
forgotten moment of an almost
non-existent childhood.
The tv is on, showing an infomercial.
The overhead light is off.
A lone candle and the tv the only
sources of light.
The candle smells of cinnamon.
Its golden flickering light
contrasting with that of the blue changing images
of the tv.


The Storms
The storms of life rage
againts me,
I long to be free.
I am bound by chains of lead
and burdened by the memory of one
years dead.
The storms rage againts me,
dragging me down in misery.
They rage on against me,
I long to be free.
The skies are dark as night
offering no comfort,
showing no light.
The rain pounds on, all signs of life
are gone.
The storms rage against me,
dragging me down in misery.
The rage on against me,
I long to be free.


Dear Aunt
I am finally happy,
almost four years free,
but still scarred
from what you did to me.
I lived with you
for seven years
all of which were filled with tears.
Any longer,
and I would have died
but thanks to that pain
I am stronger.
There was a time, I would have been afraid
and these thoughts being written for you,
in my mind would have stayed.
You manipulate the town in which you live,
but satcisfaction, to you, i will no longer give
I am re-enlisting in the army.
No one else can hurt me
like you and the five of your little family.
It has been dubbed the "B**ch Club".
After my brother turns eighteen, in your life
I'll almost never again be seen

Hot Wax
Just sittin here,
I pour on the wax
from the hot candle.
Pour it slowly
on my wrist,
then my fingers,
I relax.
It burns, the wax.
It burns, then it cools.
I peel it off,
then start again.
Some people cut
to release anger and pain
or to make sure they
can still feel pain.
I don't cut,
I just pour on hot wax.
It burns at first,
the cools as I relax.
It is different than cutting
you leave no marks.
It just burns, then cools.
It's beautiful, the wax
as it pours from the candle
then ir cools on your arm,
or in puddles on the table.
The pain is beautiful.
And then you get used to it.
So you stop for awhile,
let your skin get tender again.
The on comes the wax
with its beautiful pain.
ANy candle will do
Just light it, pour on the wax
wait till more melts,
pour it on again


A Nightmare
I hear the bombs crashing, see the boy next to me thrashing. He's been shot
in the heart, more bullets take his stomach apart. He was one of my best
friends, said he'd stick with me to the end. Is this the end, I wonder. Will the
frear and anger never go away?? Will I never see the sunlight of another day??
These are dark thoughts, I know. Though I tell them begone, they never go. I
know this was once a beautiful place. What ever happend to the smile on my
mothers face? It dissapeared when a stranger walked through the door. Daddy
is gone, my mother says. She helps me into my dress. We go to the church. The
old women who smell of strong perfume hug me.
The old me who smell of pipe tobacco tell us he's in a place free of pain. After
church I looked and found my brother was gone. Mom says for me to let him be alone.
He's 13 and the only man in our house. All of a sudden I hear mom, dad, and my brother
yelling. I look and look, but see only dark. They shake me, I see their faces looking down
at me, and above them I see the light on the cieling of my room. It was just a dream. Dad's
not in Iraq anymore. Because of an injury he will no longer be fighting in this war.
This is dedicated to all the children who have lost a family member because of this war. I'm
talking about ALL the children in the world. American, Iraqi, where there are casualties , in
the families grieving their lost loved ones, there are also children


Bird Songs

Warm spring,
Hot summer, and
Mild Fall,
birds bring songs
to us all.

Chilly fall,
Freezing winter,
and Cold spring
no songs,
do birds bring

Publication Date: 08-20-2010

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
I dedicate this book to my family, and the people over the years who've had an impact on my life, whether that impact be positive or negative