I stepped close to the edge
Smoked a cigarette
Close to the edge of no return
Close to the edge of having nothing left
Leaving behind all that I have known
Close to the line of
Don't step over it this time
Close to losing my way back
To the planting of the seed
To being the one in need
Sand in my hand the conviction that I lack
Closer to my finger on the trigger
Placing my mouth on the barrel of the gun
I'm not talking suicide
This is a metaphor for life
Closer to it all coming undone
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
You always tell me the name of your favorite book
Yet the next month you tell me of the one you've read that you like one hundred times better
You've told me your favorite color
But once your eyes have rested upon a new one,
Your favorite color alters to the one you find more appealing
You always listen to your favorite song
But by now you've played on repeat at least hundreds of different "favorite" songs of yours
This is why I'm scared when you call me your favorite
And I constantly fear that when someone better crosses your path
I will be tossed over your shoulder like a piece of trash
And forgotten for eternity
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
You told me to love,
But all I could remember was hate.
"Child," you said,
"What are you doing?
"Get out before it's too late."
But I'm afraid I've tread too far-
My feet are so accustomed to this terrain.
It's like second nature-
Almost like home.
You're calling me
Beckoning me to listen
But I've turned my head away once more.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
I traced your quivering lips
with my shaky fingers
& we stood
speechless,
teary eye to teary eye,
& realizing it was ending,
we parted
for the last time,
turned
& walked away
on our love.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
Maybe, for once, I want someone to tell me that they wont leave me alone.
Maybe, for once, I want a truthful response to my worries instead of a lie or silence.
Maybe, for once, I would like a bit of sense in a confusing circumstance.
Maybe, for once, I don't want to be treating like the helpless weakling that people believe me to be because suicide is on my mind at all times. I may be miserable, but I am not giving up, no matter what ******** people throw at me.
Maybe, for once, I want to be a ******* human being, not a glass figurine with diamond tears.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
You're so broken you're on your knees
You're alive but not living
If I could I'd bring you back to life
And that's a promise and definitely a lie to be told
You are your own resurrection
I cannot help you at all
If you fall I will try to catch you
But how can I catch you, if you are only a phantom of what was?
You'd slip right through my fingers like grains of sand in an hour glass
Just like you did with my trust
It slipped right through your phantom fingers
How did I ever think you were real?
I should have known those whispered words were nothing but wasted air and time
I could have sung songs of whispered broken hearts instead of listening to the nothing that is you
So from now on I will sing of phantoms, phantoms like you
The ones that use souls up and tell lies and break people's trust
***I wish I knew just what you were from the start
But how could I when I was blind from seeing right through you from the heart?***
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
That's what I am
A little rough around the edges,
Because I don't want a perfect figure.
I wear what I want, and
Don't brush my hair
(Mainly 'cause there's no point.
It's so short it'll just get messed up again.)
I don't take kindly to being startled.
I flinch so bad
That people usually say:
"What the **** I wasn't going to do anything!"
And ask me what's the matter.
Nothing's wrong.
At least not now.
I've just learned,
That it's easier to get through life
A little rough around the edges.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC