A lost soul searching for its counter part
Amidst the heavy morning fog, I gaze out into what seems like an endless haze, just waiting.
Waiting for my better half
Wondering why not me?
Countless romances ending in despair
Excuse after excuse as to why our spirits arent meant to be
It leaves me asking myself why?
Leaves me wondering,
Why not me?
I've been told that chemistry is easy, but timing is the hard part
But why is this so?
If our paths cross and chemistry ensues how is this timing not right?
How is this timing anything but perfect?
For it takes perfect timing, perfect chemistry, and a perfect match for sparks to ignite
So please do tell how our timing was nothing but perfect
Why not me?
Poor timing is an age old excuse, but we have all the time in the world
A whole life full
For what is poor timing compared to an eternity?
If I can find the patience to give to you then time will never be an issue
For I can find patience for perfection
I can find patience for you
So now tell me, excuses set aside
Tell me really,
Why not me?
Why won't you let me give you my all?
Why won't you let love warm your heart?
Why won't you let yourself be happy?
Why not with me?
writers arent writing as careful as goethe
nowadays we write to discharge
our emotions, and shut down
for a bit. does it work?
we don't have rhyme schemes
or endless metaphors
we just have lonely nights
and our laptops
i never would write until the night fell
you laugh at me from the light
and every smear of honesty
and you stand a thousand stories tall
but i have to leave my shoes
in the door way
the stars arent your eyes any more
they are only the fire
the flame that scorches my rib cage
its as though i payed a mask maker
if everything was in its right place
my reflection wouldnt seemed so skewed
a lemon is a fruit
with every car parked aside the avenue
all lanes free
you can run
in the turn lane
beneath the big sign
that changes colors
that blinds you with its fascism
with its charges against you
that youre given ninety to life for
snuff and beanie weenies
a cats purr
the writings of a mystic
and the mask maker
and a sneeze
to stretch out
to cuddle up
to fail at cartwheels
we cant loose
i hear you cheese over the phone
every single hormone
cresting and waining
here i am
the mind of the eye
or vica verse
if you cant
then i will
all the things you say you will do
all the things you don't
all the ways you are different from two
all the ways you arent
all the words you convey so well
all the ones you choke
all the promises of whats to come
all the doubt they provoke
fearful of falling into the same rut
scared of how this will play out
i cannot express myself more clearly
i cannot communicate anymore than i am
you want my voice
you want my opinion
then listen when i tell it to you
no no no
not just listen
ill be waiting
I have finally come to see that no matter what I do...or what I become my mom will still say its not good enough and im just some worthless bum.
She makes me feel like im worthless and a waste of human skin.....she keeps the depression inside of me churning and to regain my sanity for it will never ever win.
She doesn't even remember things as they have taken place....and when u explain your reasons why...she looks at you as if she may say.... "really?" with that look on her face.
She doesn't try to understand you or take into consideration how u may feel.....its always just some brush it under the carpet and pretend were all happy and make it seem real.
But in the meantime its only doing more bad then any good.....parenting should automatically come with manuals so you know that what ur doing is what you should.
Ive been crying for hours tonight...cus the way I am treated by them~it just aint right....you don't treat one child different then the others.....like one set of rules for each ....its just absurd and if it was u being treated uncool ...youd want them to practice as they were to preach.
But not in this house ....they have different rules for each kid...which is complete shit....I never should have moved here like I did.
Being here has made me think a lot about suicide....its really bad if a persons worth had been\
suppressed by all the tears they they've cried.
I wish I could turn back the clock so I wasn't infact here....then maybe just maybe I could be given a little repair...since love in my heart from them .....hasn't ever really been there....
i stare at old pictures that
arent so old and contemplate
how the people who say they
love you eternal always seem
to fade and follow a different
break in the stream while i still
wait at every crossroad, hoping
that they never, ever left.
cold coffee and hot tea
little kittens plush fur
the smell of old books
complete with the sound of turning pages
some people love these things
sadly it doesnt include me
i cant stand the smell of coffee
or the taste of tea
little kittens arent as fun as puppies
old books smell worse than gym socks
and paper pages are obnoxious
why people romanticize these things
and assume everyone will agree
is far beyond me
and why people get angry
over innocent opinions
that differ from theirs
makes me wonder
if thats why there isnt world peace
speak louder i cant
hear what you're saying
why are you screaming i dont
understand what you are trying to tell me
do you see the shadows move in the
same ways i do
how are you singing in my head even though your
lips arent moving and you arent even here
what is wrong with me why do i hear you when
you dont exist
They're fighting again
It seems to be the only language they speak
they being them choose a smart selection of words
they dont shout
but simply use
constantly mentioning their sacrifices
in the darkness
their once well known pillow talk
is no longer soft and sweet
their midnight confessions to each other
believing that no one else can hear them
they arent as quiet as they think
in their midnight confessions
what they wish they could have
something that they once had
that cannot be returned
the harsh realities
of their marriage
started with their
pinned my arms down
and told me I was worthless
nothing without you
"Look at me. Do you understand? You're a slut."
"You look like a fifth grader with your hair pulled back." You laughed at me, at everything I was.
"You make me want to fall asleep. You're so boring."
I'm quiet, and insecure. I wanted to be taken care of but the only thing taking care of me was the pills and razors.
An overdose and a pool of blood could've ended it all that day in September.
But I realized I had too many things I loved.
Like the storms, my best friend, books, Zack, and my mom.
200+ pills on the table and the devilish tool in my right palm
This is the last time I will write about you, you can't hurt me anymore, you're worthless, you're nothing without me and just because I've wrote about you DOES NOT MEAN I LOVE YOU OR CARE FOR YOU OR WANT YOU OR CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU. BECAUSE I HATE YOU AND I DONT CARE WHETHER YOURE BREATHING OR NOT YOU ARENT ON MY MIND AND I DONT LOVE YOU.
I don't care anymore, and I'm tired of hearing in the back of my head "if you don't care why does it bother you?" Well little mind game, it bothers me, I just don't care. And I can't even explain how that works.
I hope you rot.
I hope you understand what you did to me.
Go to hell
Your ex fiancé.