Everything Is Falling Apart.If I'm gone don't, don't look for me. I'm probably in a better place. Don't wake me, my dreams are probably better than reality. I'm lost at sea on a raft that's barely floating, drifting into unknown territory.
ToxicityYou kiss me to draw the words from my mouthOh whut a sweet sin this taste is.If I slit my wrists would I bleed out red?If I died right here,Would you love me instead?
Lonely RainAs liquid drops form on everything,I look around,The whole world becomes anew,I can feel the darkness being washed from me,Slipping away drop by drop,Slowly,In this lonely rain,
A LetterIt's been a while since we've spoken; eleven months maybe? The days seem to go by, the seasons change, but it still doesn't feel the same. I'm getting better slowly, it doesn't hurt as much as it used to but I still find myself crying at night. There's someone new in my life; he's amazing, but I still feel my heart ache for something I can't have. Death is sadistic thing. It haunts you until you can't take it anymore and drains your life of happiness. Maybe in eleven more months I'll be okay again.
LostI wish I could find myself at the bottom of an empty bottle,Or the pack of cigarettes lying next to me,But it doesn't feel right without you,Nothing could ever stop this pain spreading from my chest,An ache from the deepest depths of my splintered soul,Part of me left with you,But who am I now?
Trapped TruthThe truth is, I can’t get close to anyone because I know no one will ever truly understand me. No one will take the time to understand my demons. Talk to my monsters. Soothe my raging beasts. I’m alone in my darkness and I always will be. Trapped forever and no one will ever love me.
Maybe One DayThere once was a girl, a girl and her best friend. She was madly in love with him and he never knew. It was better that way. Her, silently dying inside. Him, obliviously in love with a sin. She forced herself every day to remember that he could never love her like she did him. He remained in the dark about her love until the very end. Every sin ends one day, she wanted it to come so badly, but at the same time she didn’t. Two hearts, both intertwined, both torn. Two sides of a broken piece that one day may fit together to form a new one. Only time would tell.
I Need YouI hear your voice in the distance,But it's too far away,All I can see is darkness,All I can feel is numb,Just the intake of breath is difficult,And with each step I get nowhere,I’m lost within the darkness of my soul,Where are you when I need you most,I hear you,But with each word you’re farther away,Don’t leave me here,I can’t do this on my own,I’m fading away slowly,Please save me,Soon everything I am will be gone.
Moments.So here we are again,Laying in silence,The regret on these sheets is self evident,But not from me,You fall asleep and I just lay there,My thoughts race back through my memories,I realize I've never been this happy,What's swirling around your dreams is a mystery,I may not see this again,It will forever remain in my memory,Your sleeping face is calming,You're even smiling,But even behind that is chaos.
he saved me, but he killed me._i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest. it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes you walked out, your five year old eyes greener thansunlit saplingsyou reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me."what's your name?"daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.I looked at the rose in my hand."Rose."you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.i didn't understand but I knew.ii. i forgot about you for 1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,you shoutedmy name, but i didn't recognize youuntil i saw your eyes.iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.i screamed, and you carried me home.iv. i didn't talk for a week. i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.you sat next to me in the pouring rain,your war
Ugly Scars“Why do you cut, dear?”“Doesn’t it hurt?”Of course it does –It hurts more than I’m worth“Why do you cut, dear?”“Aren’t you ashamed?”Of course I’m embarrassed,But I’m used to the blame.“Why do you cut, dear?”“Why don’t you stop?”Can you stop a dead bodyFrom starting to rot?Because, darling, you see,I’m not even here.I’m only a corpseWith no hope, and no fear.“Why do you cut dear?”Well, don’t you see?There’s a pain insideSo deep within meAnd it’s coming to the surfaceBut no one understandsSo I put that painInside my hands.And I lay it outFor all to seeOn wrists so redAnd forearms that bleed.“Why do you cut, dear?”“It’s ugly, you know.”Ha.“ugly” is exactlyWhat this is meantTo show.
Anxiety attackAs the attack begins,I feel myself slipping away again.And I question things that are better left unsaid.And contemplate if I am better off dead.My anxiety is killing me,I feel my hands shaking.And I am sobbing.And am I dying?I am just trying,To get a grip.But I feel my reality slip through my finger tips.Nothing is real,Except every bit of pain my mind forces me to feel.Every memory that I had shoved away.Is now racing around my brain.It's driving me insane.And my limbs turn to jello.Every time my head hits the pillow,Before I go to bed.I start to panic and I am wide awake instead.More thoughts are swarming around like a hurricane.Please,Make it stop!And just like that,The attack is gone.
Self-Harm Isn't a HandbagPick at the scabs of the ghosts of scarsOn the insides of my wrists,White hot pain memories shoot up my veinsAnd the tear vapour creates mistsIn the lenses of my glasses.My world narrows down to thoseWhite stitch marks that keep thePatchwork of my forearms and thighsTogether,Keeping the dark ugly hurtOn the insidesForever.How could I have done this to myself?Could I blame you?And him?And her too?No.I’m a big girl now,And the blame rests on my wrists,That flicked the bladeAnd sprayed the blood,And the mind that forbadeMe to ask for help.I’ve said it beforeAnd I’ll say it again;It isn’t beautifulTo put yourself through such pain.When your head is buzzingFrom the hit of the highOf a new cut on your thigh,Or your mind is lost in a mistOf ecstasy from a new sliceOn your wristAnd you’re dependent on itA junkie needing a hit,It isn’t pretty or cute or special.No amount of kissesWill undo the cutsOr absorb the scars.No
The Wrong Side Of MidNightOn The Doctor's TrainI Met The Princess Of The Dawn,But We WereOn The Wrong Side Of MidNight.
God's PaintbrushI've learned that God's paintbrush is incredibly flawed,with lashes picked at, and bristles torn nearly off.I don't think everybody likes what God paints,because we're always trying to smear it away.We cut off a few pounds, or cut up some skin,when we soil the paper, we throw it in the trash bin.I think His paper has been sauntered with tears,or blood, and vulgar language from our peers.Like others have taken His brush and dipped it in oil,and have painted themselves, in a way that's soiled.I knew that God's paintbrush was incredibly flawed,but that doesn't mean that we should change it at all.“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” they say,perhaps it would be better to keep it that way.I'm incredibly certain that God makes no mistake,I think that we do, when we try to be fake.When we take His art into our own hands,and when we ruin the strokes that He carefully commands.I don't really think that God wants us to be perfect,if so, then He wouldn't take th
concrete doesn't exist without waterwe dream about the nightswhere your head is restingagainst my chest,fast asleepwith blankets sprawled,our legs intertwinedyou right hand lockedwith my left,and my right handplaced on your lower back.and while i see these thingsin my sleep,i lie awake imaginingthe fragile moments too. not your clichestanding-in-the-rain-missing-my-flight-back-home-fragile,but when i say somethingwithout thinking and it hitsyou in the place where i sworei’d protect with my life.when i say somethingthat means the world to meand it’s nothingbut a scoff for you.when someone’s loved onefinally meets metaand we have to be therestill dealing with the physical. i think of those momentsfar too oftenand how we’d handlethem when we’re just strongenough to be fragile. simplicity is intentionaland humanism is concreteuntil life hitsand it isn’t what you imagined.
For those who are teasedPity thosewho throw knivesat your back,for you'vedevelopedsteel armor,and they're leftwith porcelain skin,and broken knives.
Fall Poem...Winter you selfish bastardFuck it's cold-The End
ConnectionAs I fall asleep,I dream of you,The way your smile makes my heart soar,The way your words make my mind's trouble sleep,The way your soul collides with mine,As we form a connection,That stretches across time.