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SameHell Jan 2019
How dare someone accuse?
How dare the tainted pay their dues???
The innocent are worse then the guilty.
With their petty fights and stained hands, ever so filthy.

They sit upon their wooden throne,
with the mallet made to strike home.
A lost cause, a burden they won’t bare.
How is that fair?
A soldier strikes and kills on the battlefield,
innocent child, a gun he wields.

Returns home a warrior, a hero.
Then cast aside, nothing more then a zero.
So why, oh why?
When I make people die,
why do there loved ones cry?

Why am I punished?
Why must the verdict be published?
I am only doing what I was meant to.
Yet here I sit in this electric chair.
How is that fair??

One day I will have revenge on them all.
I will watch them crawl, then watch them fall.
They will cry and whine, they will beg at my feet,
But I will just press one button and;
                HUMANITY DELETE
To all those twisted and angry.... Number 11 of Story Of Our Lives.
SameHell Jul 2019
The Yellow Dress has been hung out to dry,
brown laundry twine muffle the neckline.
The black flats swung softly below,
In the distance the boy heard a white raven crow.

The Yellow Dress hangs and hangs, but the boys face must still be wet.
The boy is pretty and cold, despite his nervous sweat.
His dress soon grows bored and wonders what’s taking so long.
Time with the boy had never been less fun.

As the boy started dancing and swinging,
The dress cheered him on, but the rope ended up winning.

As he hung limp the dress grew lonely,
So it tried to smile at something friendly,
Pink fabric flowers wave hello to breeze,
But wind merely weeps and runs off to the trees.

The boy usually left the dress all alone,
Ever since his parents came home,
Until of course, today,
The dress wondered when the boy stopped being afraid.

Maybe he was done,
Done playing the game of hide, then run.
Though his parents seemed to enjoy it.
They were always laughing, especially when his skin split.

Now time has past, and they are both alone,
The boy and the dress longed for different types of home.
The dress is shivering and the boys skin is long past blue, taking over his rosy hue.
It struggles against the laundry line,
Certain it’ll get out this time.

The dress huffs and curses the body.
Why won’t it move? This stupid limp body.
The boy used to be fun and run around playing,
Now the only game he plays is called praying.

The dress looks up at the line more carefully.
How weird… it was never tied this forcefully.
The cord is twisted and oddly thick.
How come its wrapped around his neck?
To all those different and done...
Number 14 Of Story Of Our Lives
643 · Jun 2019
Dry Eyes
SameHell Jun 2019
I never allow myself to wipe the wet away from my eyes,
just because I refuse to believe that there are tears there to dry.
SameHell Feb 2019
I believe everyone has rain,
Everyone has pain.
Everyone has sun,
Everyone has fun.

Everyone has a rainbow,
but mine is lacking color.
Everyone has a rainbow,
just like every other.

Red and orange, green then blue.
Yet all I have is gray, hardly a view.
Every one has a leprechaun, to send them aces of clubs,
mine must be quite dead, or overdosed on drugs.

Either way he is as absent as white is to gray,
he ignores the shine of the light from day.
He hides under the moon,
then laughs when I meet my doom.

Here I am as dead as my leprechaun's soul,
I'm filled with hate, because he lacked control.
No luck? Well ****. I couldn't care less.
Now I raise a rainbow, I am a leprechaun, I won't bless.

I guide someone over their life,
just because I can, I'll lead them to misery and strife.
As my leprechaun led me to the end of my rainbow without color.
I will do the same, ruin her pretty reflection, exactly like every other.
To all of those who feel as if they have been ******* over....
Number 13 in Story Of Our Lives
SameHell Apr 2019
A dismal king sat with his deadly crown,
Upon a bejeweled throne he continued to frown.
Meaningless wars over petty grounds.
Screaming swords, normal sounds.

A lonely queen sat with her unwanted crown,
Upon an isolated throne, land broken and brown.
Horrific fighting over ghastly gold,
She longs to lay down her deck and fold.

An empty prince sat with his hollow crown,
Tied to a wife in a fetching ball gown.
****** battles over pride and power,
Every second, misery hour.

Each one at war with the other,
Forgetting that they were sister and brother
A dismal king, a lonely queen, an empty prince,
They haven’t loved, their childhood since.

Simple struggle for poisonous sovereign,
Now they lay in an abandoned coffin.
Now again, they are together,
Without war or fighting or battles just them and forever.
To all the families with to much to lose and to much to gain....

Number 9 in story of our lives.
271 · Oct 2021
The Elephant In The Garden
SameHell Oct 2021
I’m going to
                                         I Burn
Light

Her garden on
                                          for
Fire

Make love to her
                                         her
Flowers

They’ll burn for
                                     flowers
Hours


I’m going to set myself on fire I’m going to

Burn.
SameHell Jan 2019
Am I crazy? Would I know if I was?
Do I belong here? Amoungst the common screams and constant buzz?
Next to the white hospital beds?
Where they put tubes in your throat and drills in your head?

I have screamed and I have fought,
I won't spend another minute here, just waiting to rot.
I'm losing the sanity that was once mine,
the difference between science and madness is a blurred line.

Now I'm running down long white corridors,
I'm a rat, in which they can lure.
Why was I foolish enough to dream of escape?
There is no leaving 'Asylum Estate.'
To all those insane and innocent....
Number 7 in Story Of Our Lives.
235 · May 2019
Rico And Knight
SameHell May 2019
Pokémon cards all day long.
Puff the magic dragon is a very good song.
Curly hair and unbrushed teeth.
Toys everywhere, bedroom not so neat.

Cheeky smile and innocent eyes.
In that a tiny demon lies.
Mismatched clothing and barefoot feet.
Always wants to eat!

***** fingers and 6 years old.
Warm brown skin, almost gold.
Likes to talk; brag more like!
Blames things on his brother, that’s not right!

They are growing fast, but not enough.
Older and wiser, rather than faking tough.
For the love of god! STOP FIGHTING!
No kicking, no hitting, no biting!

Rico and Knight.
They love to fight.
Happy days.
Shining rays.
194 · Jun 2019
Tree Bag
SameHell Jun 2019
Rage makes me roar my loudest.
All around me demeaning chuckles.
So I walk off into the forest.
Then I return with ****** knuckles.
Do you ever feel like you might just **** someone with all the anger inside of you?
SameHell Jan 2019
I live in a house.
That looks like a home.
With silver tongues,
and eyes that roam.

With 4 walls,
and fake smiles.
No one could guess,
Our tears go on for miles.

A barking dog, a purring cat,
a chirping bird, our voices fall flat.
A picket fence, a lively pond.
Yet when they ask we don't respond.
To all the shattered families....
Number 2 in Story Of Our Lives.
SameHell Jan 2019
One, two, three.
"Would you like some tea?"
Drip, drip, drip.
Rip, rip, rip.

One, two, three.
Don't cry for me.
Drip, Drip, Drip.
Leave my sinking ship.

One, two, three.
You may mend your heart,
though not for free.
Leave my body behind,
for the wind and crows to find.

One, two, three.
Goodbye, I have sunk down into the sea.
In it's cool depths now I lay.
"Will you be okay?"
"I will be green, though now I'm gray."
Yes, I will be okay.
To all the people dealing with loss...
Number 10 in Story Of Our Lives
SameHell Jul 2019
The Beautiful Lie


Here I am, standing there.
Watching existence, without the weight I should bare.
I was spared from the ugly truth.
Torn from reality’s crooked noose.

He told me he did it,
He didn’t say why.
He told me he did it.
Then he said goodbye.

Out through the window, abandon the door.
Bait with something bitter, yet better, irresistible lure.
Leave behind, a ****** mess.
Leave behind, the lonely best.

He killed them he did,
I’ve heard it all.
He killed them he did,
Both short and tall.

Then when I crept, the racket was done,
He laughed and told me all for fun.
He murdered my brother and the rest in floor 19.
He murdered my brother, then ran off unseen.

He saved him for last, my 18 year brother,
Waited until after he shot my mother.
The thief spared me and I don’t know why.
The thief spared me, what a lie.

He told me he had done it all.
He told me in the late fall.
He beat the old lady, he stabbed the landlord,
He sliced the babysitter, the children so bored.

At least that’s what he told me, I know it’s not the truth.
At least that’s what he told me, the thief with one silver tooth,
I believed him, and I still do,
Only because without it, I might fall black and blue.

Off the roof of building number 3.
A bird is the best thing to be.
Forget about floor 19.
Forget about the things I should have seen.

Forget how it wasn’t his hands that killed my brother,
Forget how it wasn’t him who shot my mother.
Forget that it wasn’t him who wreaked havoc and left this world unseen.
Forget the truth and believe the lie, about the things that went on in floor 19.
SameHell May 2019
June 24th was the day that I died,
Casting the line, to my mother I lied.
Standing at the edge of the dock,
It wasn’t as sturdy as I had thought.

I felt a tug at the end of my line and leapt up,
A fish that was finally mine!
The poor fish was caught and set on the floor,
I giggled and spun, then demanded more.

I didn’t notice the creaking beneath me,
The old dock collapsed, and fell into the sea.
My mouth had opened as if to scream,
But it was too late, I was sleeping never to wake, forever to dream.

If you asked me what it was like to die,
‘”cold,” is all I would reply.

It feels as if your freezing, every part of your body going numb,
Slowly giving up, realizing the struggle is done
All the while you’re awake inside your mind,
Begging to no one ‘I want more time!’
SameHell May 2019
The Man of the Forest

Beyond your Earth, across the galaxy
Resides a boy, rather unhappily.
He has a name, they call him Solis,
He imagines he is The Man of the Forest.

A place with strange human-like aliens,
With glowing white skin, and black souls hiding in.
With dormant wings and sharp teeth,
With rainbow eyes, and smart brains beneath.

On a planet where each town is exactly the same,
Acting like their given name.
The town of purity with placid faces and plain smiles,
Jobs given at birth, an unlikely life style.

One duty is to hold their sins.
The Sinner keeps them beneath his skin.
Never can a word leave Solis’ mouth,
Or lay his fate, facing the south.

Doesn’t matter how bad the crime,
He can’t talk, he can’t mime.
Once they come and speak
They forget about their disgraced feat.

The burden is left for him to bare.
Bare it alone to avoid a judging stare.
No choice, disobey the Priest he wouldn’t dare.
Too many tears he has spilled that aren’t his,
No choice, it is what it is.

But as the years went by and by,
He got up and learned to fly.
Like a bird, all through the sky.
Each day he practiced more and more,
Until he reached the clouds to soar.

Then with joy and little care,
He dropped their sins from the air.
Solis was finally free,
He shouted and laughed then screamed “Whoopee!”

But as he watched them fall down and down.
He saw them heading towards his town.
Like seeds they burrowed beneath the ground.
They spread their dark and sticky roots around.

It happened quickly and with no mercy
The once pretty town, now broken and *****.
Gone were the strange people that lived there,
Their bodies and minds unable to handle what he had bared.

The tears that dripped down his face were only his.
To sin, what a sorrow it is.
The guilt that weighed him down was from his own creation.
Solis fluttered down from the sky and landed in the housing station.
The place he wished to burn so many times,
Was finally gone and all he felt was the need to pay for his crimes.

He stretched his wings and shot up into the stars,
To search for a planet with trains and cars.
But as he reached the moon he found he couldn’t breathe,
All of his tears had left him lonely and aggrieved.

He fell back into the darkness
Until the light was less and less.
Solis is now nothing but space
Gone was the last hope for his race.

Beyond your Earth, across the galaxy,
Lived a man, rather unhappily.
He had a name, they called him Solis.
He once imagined he was The Man of the Forest.
To all those with a burden they'd rather leave behind...

Number 8 in Story Of Our Lives.
147 · May 2019
Sorry Not Sorry 14
SameHell May 2019
I’m sorry I killed you.
I’m sorry you’re dead.
It was not my intention

I’m sorry I killed you.
I’m sorry you’re dead.
Am I really though?

           I’m sorry I killed you.
           I’m sorry you’re dead.
           It was my intention.
Story Of Our Lives #14.

To all those with nothing to regret.
SameHell Jan 2019
Can you hear me?!?!
Standing there...happy, content, normal, three things I wish to be.
Do you know what I'm saying?!?!
Faker, liar, your the sinner, your just playing.

I could scream...
You can't even see me, your too clean!
The next time you shove a bible in my face,
You'll go back with a hell of a lot more then ****** lace.

When was the last time you didn't try??
When was the last time you said the words 'I'd rather die?'
Never! Am I right?
Fooling everyone around you,
proud in the day, yet scared in the night.

I'm right here, yelling your name,
You can't here me...this is all just a game.
I'm the falling star, and your the shining beam.
You won't listen, I could scream.
To all the perfect people...
Number 6 in Story Of Our Lives.
138 · May 2019
I AM Emotion(less)
SameHell May 2019
This nameless thing is a quiet friend of mine.
It has been there since the day that I turned fine.
It is the reason why my face is all set in stone.
It is the reason why I’m happy through the phone.

It is the reason why I always feel blank.
Or do I feel blank?
No, I don’t, but what do I know?
Only that I am capable of faking a pretty show.

Whilst you talk about your day, I will listen with rapt attention.
Whist you speak about your sorrows, happiness I will mention.
But do I really listen? Do I really sympathize?
Partly empathy. But I don’t know why, so I just tell lies.

What does guilt feel like? Regret? Grief? Love?
If you asked me how I felt about my family, then I would say all of the above.
But is that really true?
I don’t know, do you?

I know I would miss them, and I would surely cry.
But why?

I know I am comfortable, around us and with us.
I won’t bother trying to hide,
The emptiness I don’t feel inside.
But it’s hard to be that way.
It’s hard when I can’t explain how I felt about my day.

Frustration, anger, and annoyance are easy to read.
But happiness and sorrow are harder indeed.
Did I feel sad when the husband overdosed? Did I feel grief when the wife was murdered?
Did I feel wrong when the rose was lying in a hospital bed?
All I know is that there was something off when 2 were dead.

On the outside, I’m sure I was uninterested.
I am aware it’s odd, my expression and emotion seem to be separated.

I wish I could say what’s going on inside.
But how could I tell, when even from me it hides?

Relationships are complicated.
And friends are hard to keep.
Yet dreams are simple, and undemanding.
So maybe I should sleep.
Humans have to many words and to many explanations and yet not enough at the same time.
134 · Aug 2022
The Vermonter
SameHell Aug 2022
Driving manual
You let me shift the gears
The way I felt so important

you
Put your hat
On top of my head
The way I felt so wanted

Silent driving
And staring out the window
Listening to your ****** music
The way I felt so content

The lazy morning laying in your bed
Pretending to sleep so you don’t get up
So you don’t move the arms that were wrapped around me
or the head that was buried in my hair
The way I didn’t know I would miss it

driving home not talking
Holding, but not talking
Leaving us hours apart
The way I felt about everything we did
the way I couldn’t stop feeling about you
SameHell Feb 2019
What is the point of the things between?
Can't we just skip to the end? Where all the lies are seen?
It's where the eyes cry, and everyone dies.
It is where you learn and grow.
But I would much rather skip that row.

What is the point of all the middle?
Skip the rhyme, skip the riddle.
Take to the end where it is warm and safe,
leave behind the lonely, empty space.

My end is very far away.
As alone as I feel today.
It really isn't an end, more of a fall
Right into the end of the beginning,
straight into the middle of it all.

So I suppose, if I must,
Then I will trust, trust the middle.
I'll stay for the rhyme, stay for the riddle.
Endure the lies, the crying eyes,
even though everyone dies.

I'll stay to learn, I'll stay to grow.
I will sit and listen, rather then skip the rows.
I will wait for where it is warm and safe,
I will wait to be alone, in my empty, peaceful space.
To all of those impatient to reach the end....
Number 12 in Story Of Our Lives.
125 · Apr 2019
Painting A Whiteout
SameHell Apr 2019
My skin is the base, for it is the cloth of creation.
Next is the first piece, made to cover my innocence.
Then comes the denim, sliding over my legs.
When I receive the top, I find it is a case.
It hides away the childish side but other days the bind does not try to hide.
The shoes are the choice because as I learn to take them off I also learn to put them on.
I am dressed and ready to go, but wait and stop at the door,
Because these clothes do not fit any more.

Soon comes the bands to tie up my hair, after I have gotten all of my new pairs.
Frames are places upon my face. They are a cage and the beginning of my change.
Then the spikes are added bottoms of my sneakers because the race is beginning to start.
I stop again, another interference,
The weather has begun to change again.

I head to the room and peal everything off only to once put it on again
The one thing remains, and it is my layer of skin, it is the one that will stay even at the end.
Soon new clothes cover, the bottoms and then the tops, still in the same order.
Then stop once more because something has been forgotten.

It is too late now, they go over the shoes.
Throw on a hat to cover my tangled locks and a scarf to cover the marks.
Later is the paint, to cover the mistakes.
I walk out the door and realize I am different.

My socks are on, but over my flats. Sorry, I missed a step and had to go back.
It’s too hot for my scarf so I take it off. Then underneath is all the paint.
I used it to cover all of the mistakes but it itself was one in the same.
I can feel the stares although none existed. I hid in the bathroom to change my reflection.
There is no chance now because what I wear is now all that is there.
I go back out and hold my head high, after I covered myself, from the human eye.
This is not mine. My sister wrote it, she is not interested in creating an account but I felt the need to share it.
117 · Apr 2019
Always
SameHell Apr 2019
Foggy vision, bathroom stall.
Clear water, hard fall.
Stomach aches, bruises form.
I feel hopeless and still torn.

I can handle it.
I can handle all their ****.
I can handle drowning in a toilet bowl.
But I can’t handle half of a whole.

Two pieces lying next to me.
It’s gone, I can’t hear the music that sets me free.
They ripped it apart.
Not smart.

Now I’m ******, now their dead.
They should be lucky if they leave with their heads.
**** them. **** them all.
Blood litters the red bathroom stall.

3 came in and now 1 leaves.
Now they’re scared, scared of me.
They’re shocked, I normally don’t say a word.
But I’m angry, right and wrong have blurred.

I don’t regret it, they leave me alone.
Well, they do. Until I walk home.
One is the loneliest number.
Especially against eleven others.
DISCLAIMER: Yes, I wrote this, no it's not mine. It belongs to a character from a book I'm writing. Again, I don't count it as mine. So therefore it is not part of Story Of Our Lives.
99 · Oct 2020
Him
SameHell Oct 2020
Him
I had a dream

Where someone died

I woke up in tears

That’s so ******* weird


I didn’t know I cared that much

About him

I didn’t know I could cry

Yet there I sat

With salt in my eyes
65 · May 8
The Ghost You Prefer
SameHell May 8
I feel empty underneath you
Do you know you’re kissing a ghost?
My lips are barely moving,
Maybe a whisper at most.

I think you prefer the ghost
You’re thinking of one anyway
Easier to imagine,
if I have nothing to say.

My hair is too dark
Is that why your eyes keep closing?
She’s off living
As I lay decomposing.

And she’s still the ghost you prefer.

— The End —