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Dylan Wallace Oct 2018
It's weird
I moved out of my parent's almost 8 months ago
My room was made to be a play room sortly thereafter
That never phased me
It was still mine
Today my parents are finally repainting my room
Painting over the unfinished manic work I had done
My touch-my mark in my space
It is finally hitting me that my room is no longer my room
My parent's is no longer my home
It is just a house
And my room is just a room
Which remains in that house that is no longer my home
Moving away, moving on
My eyes are opening to the reality
I decide where home is
What home means
Why I need home
And when it is time to find home
I now begin my journey
In understanding that
I am my home
Dylan Wallace Jan 2016
Specks of light that linger, darkness consumes
A hushed prayer, muffled to silence
Only gloom remains in a world gone astray
Fallen tears, crystalize to chilling ice
A living Hell that we cannot escape
Fear that teases the weak and strong
Loneliness creeps around laughing
Broken dreams, suffocate inspiration
Is there any hope for a place of pain and sorrow
Lies drown the truth, beneath murky waters
Ashes storm around in whirling winds
Secrets hide in the shadows of oblivion
Was it vein when love was shattered
No lust was just the envious pleasure
A demented joke is being played
Look over there, a way out
Open your eyes and see the past
Torture is but a vacation away
Or is envy palpable
Dylan Wallace Jan 2016
I’m sorry I forgive so easily and never forget
Do you remember that time?
The time I took the blame for you.
I forgave you for doing it again and again.
I still remember it, like it was yesterday.
Actually it was three years ago.

I’m sorry it takes so long for you to anger me.
You can’t stand my self control.
The way I smile through pain and laugh at your effort.
You wish it bothered me, but it doesn’t

I’m sorry I’m not perfect.
That I make mistakes, lots of them.
I bet you heard the time I took those pills.
It was selfish and wrong.
Honestly I don’t regret any of this.
Sorry, not sorry. This is who I am.
I don’t want to be anyone else.
My flaws make me, me.
Dylan Wallace Jan 2016
The Broken

Tears run down my puffy red cheeks
I wipe the tears away replacing them with blood
Scars and fresh wounds cover my arms
The fingers wrap around the dangling rope
I look at my arms


To Be or Not To Be  
                          
The stool stands under my fate
A knock comes from the door
I flinch and look behind me
A sigh slips from my lips
I step onto the stool


Goodnight

I close my eyes
my head slips through
the loop
that tightens
around my neck
the stool falls
and slowly
everything fades
Dylan Wallace Jan 2015
Wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday
I open the cabinet and pull out my mask
Pull my hoodie sleeves over my arms
Sling my bag over my shoulder
Open the front door quietly
Trudge to the bus-stop
Sit in the very front
Close my eyes
Escape
New clothes
Wearing my smile
No need for any sleeves
Wanting my looks to be nice
Skipping out the front door loudly
Dancing to the bus-stop singing happily
Sitting in the back with all my closest friends
Open my eyes and realize again it was all a dream
Dylan Wallace Jan 2015
I stare at my map
My map to nowhere
It's a simple map
My map to nowhere
Some people follow
My map to nowhere
Don't be fooled by
My map to nowhere
For it is not real
My map to nowhere
It's just a reminder
My map to nowhere
That anything is possible
My map to nowhere
I follow my heart
It's my map to nowhere
Dylan Wallace Jan 2015
I'm fine
Slips off my tongue
A simple lie
But it suffocates me
I smile
It's painted across my face
It hurts me
I don't let it show
I'm fine
That's all you know
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