Beautiful lies
that were thought out so well.
Beautiful lies
that watched as she fell.
Beautiful lies
never meant to do harm.
Beautiful lies
made the scars on her arm.
Beautiful lies
that got worse each day.
Beautiful lies
that tore her away.
Beautiful lies
that danced through the hall.
Beautiful lies
with no truth at all.
The poor girl,
once strong,
now weak,
could do nothing more,
for she'd reached her peak.
The beautiful lies that once filled her head,
that once left her speechless,
that now left her dead.
Beautiful lies,
nothing to be done.
Beautiful lies,
have had their fun.
Beautiful lies,
forgotten and erased.
Beautiful lies,
bitter to the taste.
It was the pretty one, with big green eyes.
Yes it was her.
She was Beautiful lies.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
This poem is for the insomniacs.
This poem is for the people who can't accept the fact that they're fading away.
This poem is for the people who remember every little detail of their childhood.
This poem is for the people who can't remember what they ate for breakfast.
This poem is for the people who starve to watch their children thrive.
This poem is for the people who cry during every movie.
This poem is for the people who gamble their lives just to feel alive.
This poem is for the people who write in the margins of library books.
This poem is for the people who lock their keys in their cars.
This poem is for the people who consume their thoughts with words of wisdom.
This poem is for the people who wander the streets of big cities in search of an absolution.
This poem is for the people who have had their hearts broken more than once.
This poem is for the people who have forgotten how to love.
This poem is for the people who fight for a better tomorrow.
This poem is for us.
The people with weak flesh and strong minds.
This poem is for us, the people that try harder each day, even if they don't get the outcome they originally desired.
This poem is for us, the people who are still waiting to live in "the land of the free.."
This poem is for us, the people who will do anything to be noticed.
This poem is for us, the people who find it difficult to cope with life and death.
This poem is for us, the people who trek on unappreciated.
This poem is for us.
The people who are simply human, just trying to stay alive under the pressures of humanity.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
Do you ever find yourself
slowly slipping out of the grasp of reality,
and into the embrace of insanity?
Silently hoping for a miracle,
or maybe just a change in humanity?
The world is numb to our silent tears,
they say that we're weak because we have fears.
But I know that's not true,
and I know they are wrong,
for they are the weak and we are the strong.
We stay up every night staring into the void,
our minds erased, and our hearts destroyed.
For what you may ask?
And we will reply;
This is my mask, behind which I cry.
The pain we endure you may never know.
The pain we endure we may never show.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC