The letters coiled beneath her pleading tongue
Griped between the veins with cotton strings like a marionette
Hanging in mid air
Only settling in her nightly thoughts
Still
And
Frozen
Motionless like the silhouette
Concealing a montage of words
That one lived
She was silenced as they haunted her

She was so little
Yet so much as oppression could be
Discovered in her ribs
Pressing ******* the heart
Revealing spark of distress
captured in the beams that cause happiness yet discontent.
Mentoring her own soul
The deep thoughts she wasn't able to bowl
The words that would neither roll
The body kept inside of 4 walls
Angry Phone calls
that came crawling in through her veins
Pleading dismissal
Knocking on the bruises that remain
It still rains
Thundering tears that remain
Unseen.....Unspoken
yet  sensored through damaged parades
She grew up hating herself better than anyone else
Connecting each thought with an elixir
Of confusion
Haunted her own mind better than the demons that lifted off the shelves
Reaching deep into her body
Fracturing the foundations
Remaining each fragment
Shattering the blizzard of joy and
Draining all its impetus
Only as figments of its magination
Her actions that coincide with the alchemist's heartless box of incarceration
but a souless body is one with no purpose

What was her life if she had no control?

It is all there in an envelope
The ****** ink
That defeated the acting demons
Or conserved the acting angels
A play in a theatre that lit up the night sky
Performed by the stars
That form constructional figures
of my future
I ponder
And ask myself the same questions
That now outstretch the oceans
Yet burry themselves beneath
Like anchors
I need answers
To keep me sain.

The letters coiled beneath her pleading tongue
Griped between the veins with cotton strings like a marionette
Hanging in mid air
Only settling in her nightly thoughts
Still and frozen.
Just as still as the silhouette of the painting
Concealing the montage of words
That one lived
She was silenced as they haunted her

Not everyone has the same opinions or perceptions as you. The word 'normal' is what you make it, individually or communally.We are different people with different minds. What may seem normal to one person may seem idiosyncratic to another, but that's the nature of things.

My soul mourns and venom pours
Deadly
fascination as it begins to envy
Imperfections made through stitches  
Broken parts left in a ditch
Fashions a spark of glitches    
dreams weaved true Perfection
Interlinked like a paperclip Chain
No seal can brake its veins
And no heart can overtake
But the One who can remove the mistakes mistaken
And hours it takes
For it to await
Thus good things come to those
Who do wait.