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.

Medicate it Away

I step on another pill, as I try to get out of bed.

So dizzy, I hardly feel it crushing.

Walking on shells.

Can't remember how many pills I took yesterday.

Just like thy father before me.

One was supposed to get me to sleep,
But my nightmares kept me wake.

One was supposed to get me to wake up,
But no reason to get me out of bed.

One was supposed to settle my ADHD,
But no  direction to focus on.  

One was supposed to stabilize my mood,
But no way to feel.

One was supposed to take the pain away,
And trust me I've taken them in handfuls,  
But I'm still hurting.

But I'm still hurting.

Woke this morning and forgot where I was.

Can't remember how many pills took yesterday.

Too depended, I just lose track.

Too desperate, I just lose care.

Tell my father, I understand now.  

But I can't medicate it away.

They say I’m cold and hard.
That I don’t know how do love.
They say have a glass heart.

A heart people can’t hold.
A heart that only collects dusts.

But let me share a secret about glass hearts.
They are easy to break.
And if you try to clean the mess.
You’ll cut your finger.

What is it like to die young in a date?
Is there complete quiet with no uproar?                                                                          
Or could there be music, that is one great?
For that the dancing tale that I must gloar.    

Her ball room is seen by the candle lights
It's dark and cold yet kinda of painless
The great music, from the middle age nights
She walks among a lifeless and black dress

She'll take your'll hand to dance in her gain
A dance you won't know, cause there you have no right
You spin not knowing the cause of your pain
Then you fall, eyes closed, the light of white

Now, a ghost remembering my last breath

I tell about my dance with lady death