I tried so hard.
I swear I did.
So hard to impress you,
So hard to gain your respect!

But all my trying and all my dying.
Was worthless to you.

"I can't do it!"
"I'm trying!"
"I tried"
"Goodbye"

Holding it out.
As one lie on the ground, somewhere they can not be found.
Not alone, but this place is empty, eyes breaking, as their lids are shaking.

Spotting the blur that was blessed upon them, a person? With a hand to take? An offering to help one awake.
Although the time, it didn't seem wrong, though not right.
For one was young, and still had something.
But it wasn't for them, for another took it for the taking.

It was for someone else, as one disappeared.
Fading away as their heart made flee.

Once again, this hand that they can hold.
Bestowed upon them.
A gentle smile in their direction, almost like a peck of intimate affection.

Reaching out, further and further, clutching the gift of what he had in store.

How does one say “*******” politely?
Because personally I do not wish to offend, but I’m in need to defend.

To defend my actions and what I said, or did, to protest against the way you all want me to live.

I’m rude, I’m mean, I’m a bully. Call it what you will but I will always see it as honesty.

Why, must I be the one in trouble, when no one spoke to me
Why, must I be beaten down violently when I didn’t know what to do
Why, must I be tortured mentally that I want to break my own skin open and let everything out.

All the, emotions and pain, suffering and sleepless night that I spent crying.

I mean no offence, but seriously...
*******

Another world rules our own
We are all pawns in a board game
We all fight against an enemy, or one another.
Together, we try to rise, but die in this tide of life and death.

Like a Survival Game.

One day. It'll be a beautiful day.
And I won't be able to see it.
I'll be blind.
Blind by grief, or regret.
Or possibly other emotions
Maybe so many emotions, I can't handle or understand anymore!

All I know is, one day.
I'll be blinded.

So many questions, so many tales and stories they tell.
Plenty speak. Any, will listen.

But not all do. But they do not know the true.
Your true intentions.
Your true thoughts.
Your true nature.
Your true heart.

For they can not hear, for they do not listen.
All they hear is their own,
*voice

He.
He is so kind to me,
but his heart is filled with sorrow.
Him.
For it is him who makes me smile everyday,
even though I see his eyes hide pain.
His.
A castle could be his, that's not even the least he could own,
but I wish there was something I could offer, to repay for my tow.

And, now.
Me, myself, and I.*
I, am not special.
Myself, am alone.
Me, I wish to be someone else.

To be in peace, is to feel a release.
A release of built up tension in any and all ways.
We can find this peace through the illustrious brushing,
which brings young men to *******.
But that is only one way, and isn’t what you think I’m trying to say!

Anything can envoke peace in ones mind, body and aching heart.
We can find this peace through the relaxation of sleep,
drifting quietly against the water of our dreams.

We can find peace through the steadiness of nothing,
not a soul to speak up, or a mouse to scatter along.
A peaceful day of nothingness.

We find this peace through different things, taking off the leash of what’s going on, and just sitting quietly in our own field, like a trusty dog.

I’m alone, that I can not change, but I can for my tone.
I’m hopeless, I’m stupid, I’m a pitiful being, whom is so tired of weeping.

Night, after night, tears streaming down ones face, always ending up in a similar place.
The pillow.

I do not wish to drown in my own sorrow, my own broken tears and shattered dreams and the burning wishful thinking.
I do not want to be that child, that girl you say is too young to love, too young to feel any emotion, but what I feel is real and what you’re doing to me feels like you’re trying to choke me.

You’re strangling me with your words, though you think that you’re being nice, or not too harsh at all, it felt like I had just been punched in the face. A dull, numbing sensation of the after taste, from a fist once in the air, then crushing me down with despair.

I do not wish to be weak, I do not wish to feel in pain, and I do not wish to feel lonely.

That is my greatest enemy, the crippling anxiety that stomps down on my fear, my nightmare, my little trouble that I resent.
I have to go through this because I am unable to leave your grasp just yet, but once I do I’ll be free, and maybe, just maybe.

I’ll be okay.

A lackluster perspective of us pessimists, we create the monsters inside our brains, but we only wish to be awaken from our nightmares.
And the introverts hide behind the music to avoid the lies of others, they fear attachment because the rest of them already left,
nightmares.
We all want to wake up.

"Dance! Dance my darling!" He cheers.
Her gloved hand fixed in his, as her dress swirls around.
The space is cleared, as the audience goggles.
Masked and fake.
His triumphant smirk bright and wide, as he focuses on her eyes.
Emerald
A gorgeous green that makes her stand out, her brunette waved locks curling out,
and her red dress, beautifully painted.

As the sea of mysterious eyes of masked viewers watch intently.
Around them seems dark, a circle of light is where they dance.
And now,
the final stance.

Releasing her was unthinkable, breathless as they were.
He was certain he'd ravish her.

Enduring the torture that my own body gives me, cramps and stings and knives that bleed me.
A flood of red liquid many know as blood, I imagine it on my wrists when I feel the tingling warming sensation at the bottom of my arm.

I’m lost in a current when I remember back to being with the bright blue sky, but then I think to now and how I’m pushed under your ocean deep octaves, and dark brooding ground eyes.
These waves that crash over me take a drastic turn as my own stomach churns, constricting me, bleeding me, killing me.

Like my own thoughts weren’t enough to drown my head with the sights of him, but it would continue and I’d see her there too, and then I’d imagine finally finishing it.
But how do I do it?

Do I slit my wrists? And let my body dribble dry.
Do I swing from the ceiling? And let my body sway from side to side.
Do I jump off from a high place? And let my body crumble from gravity.
Do I swallow and choke down pills? And let my body bubble and grumble.

I can’t eat, I can barely sleep, and the stress keeps letting me get depressed. More and more I sink.

Underneath the deep blue sea

Her tears make fled, on her pillow head.
In the darkened night, she holds her pillow tight.
As she tries to be quiet.

everyone that surrounds you, already knows who you are, but not all know your story and what has affected you in your past.
break
I want you to leave behind anyone I despise, or do not trust, but I can not control you for you do not wish to hear my intuition that is right, somewhere deep down.
break
Okay. I get it, you two become a happy couple, I'll question why I went through the trouble of trying to keep you away even though I admit it wasn't a brilliant attempt.
break
"Bid your *** adieu"
If you wouldn't mind, thanks
Sweetie how will you react when you realise that she is smitten, and you didn't accept another's, oh do tell me why?
Invite me to the wedding and after your vows where they double check, I'll have something to say!
break!
I'm trying to see the light by taking a break and avoid the sight
taking my time. Because the words that follow after anything I say about myself with follow on
And trust me they're not good ones
break!
I can't wait for the bad things to happen, is that bad? cause if they do happen, I'll be reminded why I never crossed the bridge, and I'll drink to that.

Drink to my guts, congrats again, you were ****** right once again!

"Cheers Boys!"

How do I put this?
What do I say?
I guess I’ll just lay it out this way.
You’re gone, and I can’t do anything about it.
I’m sad, sure, angry, not really..
I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve just passed the stages of grief,
within a day?
Maybe less than that.
I did not experience denial, I tried to keep calm, and wiped the tears from my eyes, so I could see what I was putting on the screen, and what you were sending back to me.
I did not feel anger inside me, I was civil and respectful of your decision, and did not lash out with any kind of rebuttal.
There was no attempt to convince myself otherwise with bargaining,
I still have hope, because you presented it to me.
I did however feel sad, lonely, empty, depressed,
Because you left me, just like that,
Cry I did, but I can’t really help that.

I met acceptance with shy little steps, and a quiet introduction,
even though I’d much rather be confident, but I know that’s difficult.

The future holds either so much or so little for me.
I do not know which, but I truly do hope, that maybe,
possibly.

We might be okay again some day.

I do not care to give a crap
I do not care to share my words of advice
I do not care what you think of me.

I’m done, that’s it!
End of this story between you and me, the end that was always meant to be. You walked with me, and I opened the door, then you walked out on me and left me while I rested in blissful sleep.

I awoke to an empty bed, and the thought of drugs in my head, my body stripped bare to the bone, as you had walked out with everything I owned, least that’s what I thought.

I had no material goods left, I had no skin, no muscle and no blood. Just bone.

I thought no one would ever love me, because it was the same **** again and again just with someone new. I was losing hope in myself and everyone else around me thinking I’d be alone forever.

But then I caught a train.

For reality's sake, we can say
That Life Is Never Complete Until We Die
Because for reality's sake, we do not know, whether there is an afterlife,
So for reality's sake, why try to not die, when we do not know what lies on the other side...

A quiet room, only a pencils words to be heard.
But it's all secretly a riot. A tranquil, and amazing place that some yearn.
Truth be told, they scramble, and scribble. Biased to one thing, but feel like it's missing something. They search and search, looking for it. A plot, a story to tell.

But everything is a rush. In a single ring of a bell.

I’m constantly being thrown across, and dragged by my own thoughts, back and forth, back and forth.
I’m broken and tattered, my arms have imaginary scratches, and I’m bleeding out, bruises covering my body, blood dribbling from my head like a baby’s spit onto a bib.
My tears won’t stop, they ache and sting my eyes,
heavy, lifeless, sleepless.

Tearing into my skin as my nails scrape against my neck, trying to rip something out. So I no longer speak.
My eyes are too weak to stop my tears from leaking out, giving me no sleep.
My body is frail, and failing me, the wounds are just too deep, I can’t move, the lack of eating is revealing my paling skin and sickly broken bones, the pain.

I don’t want to feel it anymore,
I don’t want to feel anything anymore,
I just want to die.
Eternal slumber to envelop my being, taking away any form of feeling.

But my brain never seems to stop moving,
not for long anyways.
As my demented thoughts, pick me up and throw me all around a room, letting my dead eyes reveal something that might be fake for all I know.

My head, never, shuts up.
Make it stop!
Make it stop!
Overthinking everything ruins me, my thoughts have become like this because I can’t stop hoping, and then pulling myself down from the clouds of wishful thinking, and they rip and tear and destroy my wings that I once had.

I hate all these people around me,
they have plans for the future.
Knowing what they'll do, and what they'll be.
But how can you choose something like..that so quickly?
Mine is going down, I don't know exactly what I want,
nor what I want to be.
I'm not good at anything, where will I be able to go?
The slums, the street, outside a bar smoking ****!?

Yes everyone goes through something, and everyone has problems,
but some of them are so strong.
They get through it, and live their life.
I'm not one of them, I'm not a team player, and I'm not a problem slayer, and I'm not a prayer.

I'd rather change. Be something new, and needed for the world.
To have a purpose.
But I can't change, and I'm not a machine.
Even though I'd rather be.

Frankly, I hate living
It's filled with so much, ****.

I hate being me, I hate being this thing, this person that I've grown so accustom to, I hate her.
I loath her, yet . . . I can not stop her, she is just there.
Eating away at my past, and forming my dreadful so called future.

I fear what she is capable of, and what power she truly has over me,
But who is Me?

I'm truly lost and broken, torn away from that little girl,
that short little girl that was so happy and ready for anything, always voicing her opinion, standing up for herself and others.

Dear God, what happened to that little purple flower?
Why did she wither away, and fray into a navy blue?
The tendrils of her roots sinking themselves deeper into the earth, her vines not strung up on thin string, holding her up like a puppet.

Music drones out her demonic thoughts, but then the lyrics touch her heart, and she quickly darts, changing over to her Electro, blaring it strong into her eardrums.

Boom. Boom. Boom.
Finally . . . Peace.
Until the next song.

constant thinking, never stopping.
A Woman's Brain.
Thoughts and questions, staring into spacious milky-ways and into the abyss of black holes

scheming and thinking of a fantasy land that may never exist,
probably won't, but I'm a sinner that prays for an ounce of hope to bless the idea

But! I do not tend to believe in happy endings, because no matter how happy I try to be.
I never am, it never ends up how you want it to, even if you're desperate for that favorable latter.

a life has no meaning, even if we try and believe and strive to achieve, and prove that there is, it's all just a chemical, it's all artificial in our minds.
love is not real, fear is a trigger, happiness is a drug, pain is just a reaction and when we die that's it.
Nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to attract us to lies and scams anymore that surrounded our once breathing beings that were choked out.
We sink down under the waves and the ship dies under the moonlit sky, the stars mocking our decent beneath and the world pretending to grieve after we lost our privilege to breath in suffocation...

Even if my dreams will never be real, I even if I'm beat down and kicked in the teeth, I've manged so far, I'll be okay. I invite the pain to wake me up from this fantasy, this pitiful and unlikely belief, this prayer that I secretly beg for all the time when I think of you.
A smile in my mind as the image of you fills my brain with things, but then I'm set free with a punch in the face and a foot on my back.

A nice reminder.
I only wish and crave your arms around me, and your smile and laughter to be heard and seen by me, and I want to hear the beat of your broken heart. It may leak out, but I want to care for you and keep you safe, but you do not.
Avoid it at all costs, because we're living for today, and I am not wanted for the next to come, as the swings are directed to me, braking me down with their fists and feet.

They're still hurting, but I'm trying to push this ignition down so the flame runs out, but who knows.
I'm waiting.

He holds me.
In this pleasing squeeze.
And keeps it from touching me.

Sanity.

Insanity.

Which to choose?
Why should we choose?
How should we choose?

Why...why do these things happen to us? They make us angry, fierce, crazy!
Borderline, bipolar psychotic.

Therefore, I believe. That someday.....someone will reach out there hand before me, and say.
"Let me show you this world of insanity"

I thought everything was fine,
I thought we were okay.
But, I guess you changed your mind,
since you went the other way.

No more colours flourish within beneath your skin, they all swirled deep and the darkness bubbled up, and when you cut your finger, ink drips.

Your heart seems dead, though the problem has passed.
The truth is still there, and it’s dark, oh so dark.
I’ve been choking back my tears, especially when you smile at her.
Talk with her, laugh with her, hold her, kiss her.
I do not want you to touch her.

Why did you try and leave?
I do not understand why you would do such a thing,
Such a disgusting thing.

This has made me feel sick to my core, and I’m too scared to go it alone, though I do not want another to dare come near my dreaded soul.

I Hate You.
I Had Forgiven You.
But I Shall Never Forget What You Did To Us.

*Why, Oh Why, Did You Ever Think It Was Okay To Cheat?

Hey.
It's that time again.
Once every year, some have people come and cheer, or go grab a beer.
Whatever you want, it's your special choice.
But I can not carry on, for I feel it is pointless. And not at all special, because it's the same for many others as well, new and old.
It's become sickening to me, to look back at those bad memories.

Congratulations to you, and you.
And ...me too..
Hip, hip, hurray...
Hip, hip...hurray
Hip. Hip. Hurray.
...
..Happy Birthday..

Early bird, early bird.
The sun comes out to play.
At 5:58.
In the morning rise, I can see my life change everyday.
Oh so cold, oh so cold.
The morning breeze.
Thank you air for helping me.

Mum...Dad...
You probably don't want to hear anything from the ****** of the family, but I'd just like to say thank you for guiding me and helping me when I was down, even if I get mad and frustrated with you for not understanding my teenage self.

I wish things weren't quite this hard, but I don't want you to be mad at me anymore, I'm sorry I never made you overly proud with anything I did.

Night is a time where I lay awake and overthink about things again and again, the same things, different day and familiar tears.
I always wondered why I didn't get support for little things, cause it seemed you didn't care for them or what they meant to me, did you feel scared possibly? I can't ask because you don't hear my words.

Pondering back and forth as I pace around, waiting for a response.
I've written too much its not even my own anymore.
So I'm going to stop for a while.

Test here and Test there,
too much Stress to bear.
Let me write, let me type.
Because I know. . .
I Can Not Fight.

Scribble here, and there.
And all the way over there.
Enjoying her words on the page.
Her feelings on a stage.

Mistakes are made. And that's a fact.
The past is the past.
And you can not go back that far.
All you can do is adapt, and take your life back!
Move forward.