Cancer is cruel
like an hourglass that refuses to slow down
it cares not for dreams or ambitions
of finances
Cancer doesn't care about prayers
of well-wishes;
of tears behind closed doors
or the hurried reassurances
like a plea to an all-powerful force
we struggle to believe is even real
or the people you'll leave behind
Cancer takes and takes and takes
until there's nothing left
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 11:49 AM UTC
If I had to describe life,
it'd be a hallway.
A narrow hallway.
Void of doors
Void of windows.
Nowhere to turn,
No end at sight.
Just pointlessly moving forward.
"It's just a straight path,"
they say
yet why do i feel so lost
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
Tired.
That's all I can think of
to describe the hourglass I've trapped myself in
the same old routine
every flip
ends up the same
and I'm in the bottom of the pit
The sand piles up
and I try to desperately
try not to be buried under it
Isn't it so much easier
to just let it envelop me
to embrace my lungs
and to stop me from staying alive
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
I may be empty
I may be lost
and I may be scared
of what's to come,
of what's happened
and of what is happening
sometimes I wish I could eat happily
sometimes I wish I had a map
sometimes I wish I'd stop trembling
whenever I had to face things
I didn't want to face
I wonder how many smiles I've given
that were as fake
as Made in China products
I wonder how many times I held out
instead of succumbing
to the weaker,
much fragile side of me
I wonder how many times
I gave me a reason
to love me
Maybe sometimes
I deserved that pat in the back too?
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
(tw: self harm)
excruciating pain,
drowning sadness,
overpowering happiness,
elated disposition
i am but indifferent to these
much rather
i cannot feel
every nerve in me
refuses to let me feel
my own skin refuses to
be drunk with warmth,
my muscles stiff,
and a smile
which refuses to brush my features
so i use force
i cut and i cut
i linger the blade inside the wound
that way more blood comes out
did you know a wound gets harder to close
when you twist the blade?
oh, dear dear
i need to find knives,
none sharp, none too large,
paint my skin
with my blood
allow the blood to drip
allow my trembling figure
to be accustomed
to the pain
the pain that wont end
the pain that takes away the numbness
i can feel at last
i can feel the blade against my skin
and i can see the blood dripping down the bathroom floor
what a mess, what a mess.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
it is but
fickle reasoning,
a minor blow
separation between capable
and mediocre
months and months
of impatient grumbling
of sour expectations
the sudden slap of the sober reality
strikes repetitively against my skin,
creating a wound,
a daily reminder of my failure
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
i am the pile of dishes that keep piling up,
a stack people are discouraged to clean by the mere glance of;
i am the smile that fades soon after
a passing acquaintance greets cheerily;
i am the tears that refuse to be shed,
the salty droplets indicating weakness;
i am the small wound,
too thin to cause scars but still enough to bleed;
i am the song to listen to,
when feeling sad and alone:
not a remedy, only an aid
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
i don't deserve
the tears i once was able to shed
the reprieve
of screaming to my lung's content
i don't deserve
the fleeting remarks
of admiration and trust
i don't deserve food
not a vessel of satisfaction
not a privilege to withhold
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
[tw: some graphic stuff yo]
sometimes i imagine
using razor blades to stab my eyes
sometimes i imagine
that with a slick knife,
i am pinned down
and slit open
i imagine lines and lines of blood on limbs
limbs that can't be soaked
no not yet
not right now
not today
i imagine
getting beat up
fresh bruises blooming my features
swollen black eye,
split lips,
teeth knocked out
i wish to suffocate
to be crushed
and to receive all the wounds i deserve
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
you wrote me a song
a song i didn't want to hear
but it kept playing and playing in my head
like a broken record looping endlessly
your words and promises
entangled in my head
now they serve
as mere thorns
still wrapped
and wounded tightly
as i cling to them stubbornly
memories brought back
to a mind that persists to forget
yet shows no signs of letting go
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC