it's hard to close your eyes and sleep,
when your innocence is no longer yours to keep,
or your dreams are louder than any scream,
and your screams hold more detail than any dream.
so how am I supposed to be,
a girl who wants to go on a shopping spree,
when the thing I most want is to be the one that buys,
what was taken when he opened up my thighs.
yes he, and they, and he,
the ones who took for free,
the one thing I miss the most,
and for which I payed the cost,
so now I need and cherish those,
who instead of the thorns give me the rose,
whom are few for flowers share,
the bond with thorns as biased is bound to fair,
and I'll think of all the ways,
to rub out all those days,
from my memories and all my thoughts,
because they always come back to these spots,
when pain was unbearable and raw,
like Pandora's box but a door,
like a crow's song and a caw,
like the pageants that rule out your flaw,
my eyes will always be the one who saw,
a tragedy written and a broken law,
so when you notice the scar on my jaw,
remember it wasn't from a claw.
it's hard
to close
your eyes
and sleep,
when your
innocence
is no
longer
yours
to keep.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
we're low on self-esteem,
dreaming of nightmares,
but nightmares are our dream,
your hopes our affairs,
your fears our anthem,
and our music always louder than your scream,
our troubles more ghastly than a phantom.
painting roses black or red,
our faces more sombre than a killer,
with all our victims shed,
drinking gin with a blue caterpillar.
you see our hearts are coal,
and our hands are gold,
our knives shine brighter than our soul,
avoid our gaze or you'll get real cold,
behind our eyelids are mountains of ice,
and behind our mouths are rivers of blood,
and of this I won't tell you twice,
we'll then get drowned by the flood.
if you manage to sneak a peak at our hearts,
you'll find the maps of hell,
more dramatic than all the arts,
so you wish you'd known me well,
before you'd looked at my devils,
and all these will only worsen,
and no man will sink to the levels,
of the brain of a depressed person.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
there is no room for light,
yet we try and give in some might,
shallow hearts try and put up a fight,
as if we have the right,
to complain about the night,
we were born;
like the thunder in the storm,
or a crazy monster swarm,
trying to follow the norm,
and keep our insides warm,
or avoid the scorn,
that falls from somebody's lips;
like a sail on sunken ships,
useless as burnt scripts,
or the boys that chase your hips,
trying to get the grips,
of your lady brains;
jumping on run down trains,
to rid us of the pains,
that are tied to us like chains,
or tear apart our veins,
dark and forgotten lanes,
in the streets of the town;
an emotionless clown,
a pretty girl about to drown,
a ****** ghost in a gown,
or a queen without a crown.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
maybe
this is
how
its supposed
to be.
maybe
happy endings
were never
for me.
maybe
a life
with pain
and no gain
is the life
i'm living
and will live
when
he finally
admits to himself
that he
loves me no more
when he
realises
i'm a no-good bore
when he
decides
I've had enough
of her cries
I've had enough
of her brown eyes
i can't deal
with what she is
i can't deal
with how
i give her bliss
she's a needy *****
who only wants attention
which is why
her arms
are full
of lines
and on her thigh
is my name
and i was stupid
to do the same
once
because
she cared for me
when no one else
dared to
she loved me
and i thought
if she thinks
i love her
i'll get between her legs
and tell
all my friends
i got in
the impossible
and then
i'll leave her
on the floor
face down
and trample
on the heart
she put
on the pavement
for me to look after
because
she trusts me
because
she thinks
i'll never hurt her
intentionally
yet
why does it hurt
so much
why don't you
want to talk to me
why don't you
text me
when you said
you would
why don't you ask to
see me anymore
why don't you
why.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
is it true that pain is beauty
will it make me seem off duty
and relentless, free or perfect
maybe a pretty face flecked
with carvings of angels
will clean up the broken cables
and broken fables
spitting over the floor
that came from the door
that has opened in my head,
will make sleep easier in bed
to beauty this is a love letter
will a new face make it better
will a new face make it better.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 6:27 AM UTC
i get lost in my head and there's no way hence,
i'm like a street that's got no pavement,
stuck in a prison that's got no fence,
sometimes my mind cracks,
and i don't know my name,
my opinions are put in sacks,
and i start to play a game,
i like to call madness,
where the rules are set by cruelty,
and the prize is set by sadness,
and you'd think i'd have immunity,
seeing as i've been here before,
but when the visions come flooding in,
my screams get loud by more,
but they're silenced by the pillow i cry in,
my shakes stopped by the bed i lie in,
yet my closed eyes see in perfect colour,
and i look at my hands and they aren't my own,
i don't know where my honour has gone,
i look in the mirror and there's a stranger looking back,
then my mind freezes and all i see is black,
then sounds and feelings are in my room,
they turn my sunshine to gloom,
and it's all so real and so painful,
and i don't know when they're coming or how plentiful,
they'll be,
they could last a minute,
or maybe,
to an hour from a minute,
could it be,
my head is a maze and the only way out,
is by reminding myself of who is going to shout,
to lead me through the dark,
and who caresses the mark,
or the plural of mark,
that rests on my wrists like a shark,
waiting to bite at whoever wishes to embark,
on a quest to turn me into a lark,
and rid me of my dark,
ness.
i'm such a mess.
i wish i could be ruthless.
less insecure and useless.
because when this **** happens to me,
i become a demon,
and i need someone to lean on,
to make it all a little better.
and i won't come a trend setter,
for depressed suicidals.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
The devil once asked how I knew the way in hell,
I said I don’t need a map for the darkness I know so well.
Red; under my sleeves, fills my vision and makes me faint,
My mind could have guessed at the colour of paint.
Lost not found, stolen not taken,
Forged my lies and leaves me shaken,
Calloused hands grip at my veins and tug at my heart,
Bring Guns and Roses to my place for a start.
Then listen to my curse as I recite my poem, a void,
Understand how my head is filled with red destroyed.
Read my scars like lines in a book,
To the river that flows at the end of the crook.
Pray that my truth would come out fast,
Or my body and soul could be separate at last.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC
i know of someone who fights battles,
and tears me apart when there's a shadow of sad,
that melts apart like candles,
filled with crippling bad.
i know of someone who is scared,
of creatures beyond their power,
it fills their heart with dread,
and burns their lovely flower.
i know of someone who feels so alone,
they carve their tears on their skin,
which scar upon like stone,
and bend down or break in.
i know of someone who feels,
like there's nothing left to wish for,
and death is all they reel,
sell their nice on a store,
and pleases my mind with softness,
makes my breaths worth while,
like balm their name is kindness,
and moulds my face to smile.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC