trapped in my mind
stuck in my head
no where to go
so I lay in my bed
why did you leave me
why did you go
i would **** just to hear you say hello
yet, your gone
gone up in the stars
i swear for you i’d travel so far
if i could just hold you one more time in my arms
even though you aren’t here
i still dance with you my dear
there’s a ghost that haunts me
but I have no fear
cause I know it’s you, my darling
that’s crystal clear
Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 6:10 PM UTC
You throw up every time you think of what you could be
Of what you once were
Always longing for distant memories
Yet I’ll tell you now dear
Do not dwell in the past
Yet focus on the future
Because sometimes friends become enemies
Boats get lost at sea
People will get put in the ground,
only now just a plain wooden cross under a tree
Cast out those demons that crawl beneath your skin
Set a spell on the evil within
For the darkness will not eat you alive
You’re not a corpse that’s dead inside
But a wandering soul looking for a peace of mind
Every second of your life is just like a hand on a clock,
Tick tock
So live in the moment because one day this house will become ashes
They will scatter as the wind blows
Along the fields and the meadows
You might just feel like you’re a dead rose
Yet your vines, they keep on climbing
Just as you keep on fighting
For the day you finally won’t feel sick
At the thoughts that make you tick
So don’t throw up every time you think of what you could be
You are not a ghost
You are not a distant memory
For you, yourself are the only one who can truly set you free
- N.N
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
She's like a book on a bookshelf
fragile, broken, alone
Her thoughts are fulled with words
that line the edge
of each page, yet
the shade of black ink
that drips off her tongue
stains her own bold-faced font
She's like a book on a empty bookshelf
In an empty library
In an empty city
In an empty world
Alone
She's like a secret book on a bookshelf
filled with genius passages that do not
make sense to her
for she is a silent author
that can only sit in front of a old wooden desk
and wait for ink to spew
from her fingertips
to create a masterpiece
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
It’s 4:07 am, all that was on my mind was the thought of your voice and then my phone lit up with your name displayed across the screen
It’s 4:31 am, the house is almost completely silent except for the rattle of the fan that probably spun as fast as my heart throbbed, drugged by the poison that oozed from your lips
It’s 4:46 am, it is dark and I am alone, yet I still feel your warm strong arms wrapped around my cold frail body, reminding me what it felt like to feel safe
It’s 4:51 am, the fan shakes, it rattles so loudly and I am so cold and your warm strong arms are not wrapped around me, your gentle voice is not whispering in my ear telling me everything is alright
It’s 4:49 am, my phone is dark and silent and my heart won’t stop throbbing I think I might puke I do not feel safe and I don’t think everything will be okay because it isn't and it won’t be and I am cold and you are not wrapped around me
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
It’s 4:07 am, all that was on my mind was the thought of your voice and then my phone lit up with your name displayed across the screen
It’s 4:31 am, the house is almost completely silent except for the rattle of the fan that probably spun as fast as my heart throbbed, drugged by the poison that oozed from your lips
It’s 4:46 am, it is dark and I am alone, yet I still feel your warm strong arms wrapped around my cold frail body, reminding me what it felt like to feel safe
It’s 4:51 am, the fan shakes, it rattles so loudly and I am so cold and your warm strong arms are not wrapped around me, your gentle voice is not whispering in my ear telling me everything is alright
It’s 4:49 am, my phone is dark and silent and my heart won’t stop throbbing I think I might puke I do not feel safe and I don’t think everything will be okay because it isn’t and it won’t be and I am cold and you are not wrapped around me
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
and yet, how many people live their lives in the full knowledge that the self - the
core of their personal identity - is an illusion?
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
you were the hallucination of water I saw as I was roaming the desert
you were the crevice in the paper that I never could keep straight
you were my moon and I was your sun
I loved you endlessly; I loved you with a love I have never loved and will never love again
You unearthed my roots and placed me by a windowsill that never received enough sunlight
you watered me and cared for me as much as you possibly could but never could quite understand why I was dying
once I was gone you knew and you,
you took that dead flower and tossed it
because once something gets to **** difficult you always quit.
You said it yourself, so I quit too.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
I will always wonder if you remember
that bleak night in December
you took my soul into a dimension
so far away from this awful attention
I couldn't even fathom your beauty
for you are a midnight goddess
and I'm just a noble artist
I took my lips and gently placed them on your forehead
then your petite little nose
and then finally leaning in for a kiss
you don't even resist
that moment was like ember
because of that moment I will always remember
that cold bleak night in December
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
my life is slowing slipping out of my grip and is dripping from my hands, splattering like when a paint ball hits the target with each horrifying drop
and I can't
do anything
about
it
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Why is there such thing as pressure? Social pressure, air pressure, blood pressure, peer pressure, sinus pressure, life pressure
We are pressured by every element ever created yet I am not a diamond
I am not a sparkling gem
I am not perfect
But I am something
I am a soul in a body that isn't truly mine and a pine tree in the middle of a cornfiepld and a bird who has to be fed by it's mother because it doesn't know how to live on it's own;
I am the waves that crash into the shoreline and I am the duckling who is always left behind and I am the broken voice who never yelled hallelujah because I didn't believe I could; I am a guitar that is improperly tuned and a book whose spine is destroyed and I am the child who yelled for her father that never came;
I am a unfinished painting and a crooked portrait and the broken record player that repeats the same groove over and over and over;
Yet I am not perfect, because if I was I would be able to answer your question but I can't and if I could, I know wouldn't be able to stand here and tell you who I truly am
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC