Only the eyes of an artist could see
the mistake I am,
and yet still think of me as his masterpiece.
Flaw by seemingless flaw
I was created.
Sewn together with intricacy and care
from my delicate skeletal structure
to my foundation of muscle and fats.
Knowledge and hard logic
corresponding with feelings
and favorable decisions.
Pain and tears,
blood and sweat;
is what I am.
And who I am
depends on the crowd I'm in.
Aligned perfectly in body and soul
just like the planets dancing around the sun.
And in all of this
he signed his name
in MY fingerprint;
looking past all my flaws.
Making it obvious
that I am his
and he, truly is, mine.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
I'm a thinker; master over my own mind.
Engaged in the intricate way words spindle together
through my ever racing mind.
The room is beautifully silent but in that created a scene so loud
it was unexpectedly ear shattering;
maddening it was.
Now I'm no longer in control of my thoughts
but instead a slave to the voice that no one else hears.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Depressed
but I still sit here oppressed by you
and your ******** of how I'm suppose to not **** up.
The consent and ideal mentions of how to be strong willed
fade into the background when I find out you've gone and drank yourself silly and got high to numb the pain.
I'm stressed
but who wouldn't be?
It's been three weeks and it shouldn't be,
without you, there's only two;
my brother and I
but where were you?
Like I've said to you before I'm done
and can't keep playing these games anymore.
You hear what I'm saying but it's like you don't understand.
Then again I guess you never really understood how I worked as well,
but in all honesty
I'm sure as hell not like you.
I'm a mess
but who wouldn't be?
I do my best but it couldn't be,
without you there's only two;
my brother and I
but where were you?
Like I've said to you before I don't care
but whenever I say that, it's like I fill up with despair
Look inside-- my head aches from anger and my heart from forgiveness.
I'm overwhelmed by these emotions and either way I get hurt.
It's you or me
always has been, always will be.
Suppressed
I lay here,
and with doubt I play fair
thinking maybe one day you'll come up to me and say
"sorry."
With emotions so strong,
maybe then I'll buy it.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
As quite as the room was
my thoughts began to make noise
as my thoughts and actions took
each other by hand and hand
the symphonic, bittersweet harmony
arose from my thoughts and onto my skin
colliding with a blade of steel like a
horse-hair stringed bow to the copper
wire on a delicately crafted violin
getting louder and louder, the scene does,
with every vigorous sawing motion of hand and tears streaming,
the symphony came to a stop with one
sharp note and a crooked smile.
She rest with corrupt joy as a reward for all of the hard work done; as
the notes were written down-- not on paper,
but on skin.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC
Silence says
a thousand words
to the people who cannot see,
but falls upon the ears of deaf
in my final hours' plea.
As I drown in my thoughts
I look up in hate
to you who does not give way
to the girl who would take a gun to her head
and count:
1...
2...
3... BANG.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
Don't tell me that no one will care
because they will.
Don't tell me we'll move on
when you know we won't.
Don't tell me that you're okay
when you have the rope in your hands.
Because,
Death,
is felt by all those who care.
You'll say I'm only doing this to myself
or I've felt pain much worse than this
or give yourself some other ******** lie
to cover for your exit,
your escape,
your stairway out of hell.
Well guess what?
If death is grief, hatred, tiredness, and
disappointment in what you've seemed to fail at doing, then I guess I've all already dug my grave
Right
Next
To
Yours.
Because I'm not letting go of the people I care about.
And I'm willing to fight for every second
they breathe.
You say you're pulling me down
but I'm the one holding my ground
not willing to let you sink
to the bottom you think
you've already hit.
Death,
is enviable,
And I feel it everyday
when I talk to you.
But I don't mind.
I like the pain
just like you.
It may not be the same kind,
but it definitely feels the same.
And,
I
Love
It.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Life.
Time is all it is,
where us humans create
unnecessary events to fill our empty schedules.
To fathom a purpose out of electric currents running through our brains for us to do something for that one moment...
a singal time span; starting, and then ending as quickly as the thought came.
It's funny.
It's funny that we have to set goals,
so that we don't go crazy.
We need something to do.
Everyday,
And every second of the day,
we have to do something.
And while time is in play,
as it always is,
when will it stop?
As soon as I die?
No, but then if not then,
then when?
Because just like my life will end,
so will life in gerneral;
come to an end.
Everything has a time span of when
it will come to a stop.
It's only a matter of time.
And a question of:
when?
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
Why do I care so much?
Can I not say what's on my mind,
when it needs to be said?
It's frustrating.
But you wouldn't know,
since all I ever talk about
is the fake ******** I know you wanna hear.
Because who would ever want
to know what's on my mind?
No one.
Anyway,
don't you remember?
You said "it's **** well obvious.."--
it's **** well obvious
that I'm done.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
And while I sit here
near the fire
I wonder how the electric
movements of the flames
would feel on my
skin.
Captivating as it dances,
just drawing me in closer.
I guess it's good that I'm not alone right now.
But it's beautiful.
Not the flames,
but the thought of pain.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
This emptiness
fills my being like blood,
running through my veins.
This loneliness
holds me
like no one ever could.
This poison
infects my brain
like a deadly virus
slowing killing me
without anyone knowing.
I feel trapped
and I'm scared of what might happen,
I'm scared of what I might do,
but most of all--
I'm scared of my thoughts.
Because I'm a hostage of my own mind
and the worst part is;
no one can hear me scream.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC