My mind races without a finish line

Storm clouds form and I see red.

I open my mouth to sceam but no sound comes out.

An  unfulfilling ******.

Seeing red. Seeing red.

I fear, one day I will let my rage out and my eyes will be red.

An innocent hand will reach out and I will impulsively bite it off.

Seeing red. Seeing red.

I fear, if one person saw what was inside, a hundred would turn on me.

Seeing red. Seeing red.

Please rain down on me, so that the water will cool me down.

Seeing red. Seeing red.

Lock me up in the dungeon,

Make me scream until I can breathe out silence.

Seeing red. Seeing red.

Until my mind crosses the finish line.

Are these brown eyes really mine?

Did you hear the news about little orphan Annie?
She sold her soul to the devil. And now she’s his instrument. Because she had to ask him this.

Tell me what’s my father’s name,
And when will my mother be,
A reflection of me
I want to please blame my DNA
But what does blood mean, anyway?
Are these brown eyes really mine?

My grandmother said, your skin may be light,
But your soul is black.
But she don’t tell me what the **** that means.
There’s something really wrong with me.

God knows she tied to save my soul,
But it’s no use.
She sees everything in black and white,
But I’m red all over.

Are these brown eyes really mine?

I have been told that I’ve been doing it wrong.
It’s living in a song
But no one sings along.
Light or dark, it’s no use.
What does blood mean anyway?

Blood is only red, anyway.

Are these brown eyes really mine?

Exorcism  

If I am a child of God, then I think he disowned me.
God must hate me if he made this way.
This demon is unstable.  I think I need an exoorcism.
Please bleed me dry, so I can feel clean.
I cry in the shower, bathing in holy water.

Maybe I'll feel better after the exorcism.

Demons dragging me, up and down, and all-round in my head.
Demons screaming at me, I wish you were dead.
Yet even if I died, it wouldn’t save me from the ghost.
They have drained me, I’ve become a shell of their human host

It’s dark in here
But I can feel you stare
You back away and I understand
You say look she’s going crazy

She needs an exorcism.

But to be beautiful, is to be is covered in blood. But the demons have already possessed me.

It’s too late for an exorcism.

Crystals

My father said the only thing that can not be replaced is crystals. Good friends can be replaced by bad friends. Love can be replaced by pain. Hope can be replaced by despair. Life can be replaced by death.

I asked him as he sorted the white powder on the glass in front of the mirror.

Why can't crystals be replaced?

He sniffs his nose and says, because crystals are, at the best rocks. At least are plastic.  Because crystals are illusions. Illusions of light. Illusions of color. Illusions of beauty. Illusions of meaning.  You cannot replace what is not real.

It’s too late
There’s no place to run
There’s no street to cross
There’s no solution

It’s too late

Too much damage has already been done.
Too much heart already has a big enough hole.
  Too much soul already has a big enough crack.
No way of fixing it.

It’s too late

You can’t change the past.
You can’t heal blood deep scars.
You can’t make fairy dust out of dirt.

I’m too far gone
It’s too late for me

I found my rainbow after one of my life’s storms. I followed it for the promise the tale of gold.

I followed the ray of red, opening my heart to love people I wanted to hate.
I followed the ray of orange, kneeling at a false altar.
I followed the ray of yellow, battling with my own good nature.
I followed the ray of green, respecting other lives, while dying inside.
I followed the ray of blue, staying loyal to those who cheated me
I followed the ray of violet, severed my time and energy

I followed this rainbow, to get to the gold
I thought I was doing right, I thought it was worth something
But when storm clouds stuck I looked around to see  my rainbow fading away

I  had to look back and asked myself, “Where is my *** of gold?”

How many tears can one person cry?
I wonder because I think I’ve reached my limit
There’s nothing left.

How long can range last?
Because I’ve throw everything out the window
There’s nothing left.

Shot a few holes in my heart.
Made it easier to slice it open.
I was left so vulnerable.
That everything inside was stolen.
Now it’s hollow and empty.

There’s a different kind of pain
It’s not anger. It’s not sadness. It’s not happy.
I don’t know what I’m feeling, because it’s like I feel nothing
I’m just numb.
Like there is nothing inside.
What should I do?
Should I cry?
Should I scream?
Should I cut myself to see if I would still bleed?

I tried to cut deep but nothing comes out.
Then I remember a time when I was bleeding.
I was such an angry young child, but my fire bleed out.
I've become numb.