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Jan 2021 · 665
Brave Wilson Jan 2021
Don't you think it's funny
How it seems everything
wears out overtime
Well, with a single exception...

The blade we use
to cut our wrists
Don't ever really wear out,
do they?

They might dull
with continued use
but I assure you they never wear out...

Like the blades I once owned
and left in the closet
for ages, it seemed
never again, never again, and never again
and yet here I lay
with blades in my hand
blood on my wrist
and wounds on my flesh
as fresh the blades
that I hold in my hand...
Jan 2021 · 295
Hello, Anxiety
Brave Wilson Jan 2021
Hi there, to my dearest anxiety...
I have a small request,
If you'll but hear me out,
I'd be ever so grateful...

You see when I awake, that itching feeling I get, yeah the one that makes me feel like the world is resting lethargically on my shoulders...
Yes! That same feeling that keeps me in bed 2hours after I've awoken contemplating whether this is finally the day my legs give in and break beneath the weight of it all...

Yeah, could you not do that today?

Also, if it's not too much to ask...
When I do finally get out of bed after hours of yeses said to empty maybes...
You know how when I have a happy thought you somehow find a way to show me just how impossible my happiness is by showing me every time I've been strung along by my pursuit for happiness only to be abandoned when I've been used for my worth...

Yeah, could you also not do that Today...

I know, I know, your probably thinking...

But why today?

What's so special about today?

Well, seeing as you asked...

Today, I woke up feeling worse than You've ever made me feel.
My knees are weak already and I haven't even stood up for the day...

So if you were to tempt me to play,
With a rope, a blade, or the pills that on my table lay...
I don't think I could resist going all the way...
I don't think I'd choose to live another day...

But!, and I can't believe I'm saying this...

I sure would miss you, my dearest anxiety. 🖤...
- An open letter to my Anxiety
Brave Wilson Jan 2021
I will run to the river
I will reach for the well
Drown my sorrows in someone
And I hope I leave this hell

I can't live for forgiveness
I can't live with the lie
I won't be what you wanted


I won't be what you'd like

Yeah, it's written in the water

Yeah, it's everywhere I go

Tellin' me that I should leave you like you did so long ago

I'd be fine if I met you
And you'd still have had to roam

Give me one kiss for the road,
Now it's time I let you go.

Yeah, it's written in the water

Yeah, it's everywhere I go

Tellin' me that I should leave you like you did so long ago

I'd be fine if I met you
Even if it wasn't the same as before. 😔
" Just a song I felt resonated with me "
Jun 2020 · 262
Cold hearted
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
You say she's cold, but what does that mean?

Is she as cold as the breeze rubbing against your skin making you regret not putting on that hoody you detest.

Or is she the cold found on the other side of your pillow on a hot summers night.

You see, sometimes you need someone "cold" in your life when your just too damaged to handle the warmth that comes with real love...
- Sometimes we 're not ready for "Good"
Jun 2020 · 187
Do you hate me now ?
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
Have the laughs I've given you
finally reached their date of expiration?
Have the nights we spent in each other's arms
seeped to the part of your mind labeled as forgotten?
Have the times I spent by your side
begun to ring a tone so disturbing you've tuned them out as a static?
Has the strength I've given you to fight
those that belittled your existence,
finally become a wisdom that's taught how to stand on your own?
Has that strength you now hold by my grace
become a burden that makes you hate me
out of a missguided fear of being indebted to me?
Has the fear in you corrupted your sight,
nurturing your love for me into this hatred I see in your eyes?
Has it been long enough for my love to become your grief ?
- This rings close  to my heart as my nature has often been seen as a kindness thats cruel in the sense that it make those i love feel like they do not deserve such love.
Jun 2020 · 351
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
She was the fool
Who danced so wildly
to tunes that were played
by the man of sociaties,
who pray on her love,
and borrowed insecurities,
but returning them soon.
leaving her lost and in pain,
And filled with regrets,
of the gift she had traded
for a single nights pleasure
with men who had wive's
and girls that were bored.
Till she was left all alone
with a burden on her soul,
Desires in her heart,
but damaged beyond that wich one could repair.
-bi sexuality makes twice the curse of a womans insecurities.
Jun 2020 · 246
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
She's a Rose,
So beautiful by definition.
her petals a deep black,
She was a Rose with a scent
that weak man and little critters ot to avoid.
Enigmatic To her core,
truly she's was a puzzle.
Dazzlingly to look at
but impossible to handle,
rose bush thorns on every inch of her  body.
A will that's defiant,
and rebels against all,
but her heart is so pure it's alluring to it's core.
- Wrote this for my crush, cause  why not...
Jun 2020 · 474
My Mask
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
If a mask I Dawned
of secrets and lies,
and hatred that I've spawned.
Would you betray your inner self,
to stand by me?
Or would you dismay into hiding?
And abandon me ?

There once was a girl
who lived a life of secrets and lies that she told,
she portrayed herself as happiest of them all,
with laughs and smiles she would hide in crowd,
her nights she would spend,
currled in a dark room,
Silently Screaming,
and wishing she could cry.

Her days were a lie,
and her nights were lonely.
the only release from the pain,
was a blade to her wrist or a knock to the brain.

This cycle was stable and kept her in check
but it slowly  consumed her,
driving her to a point,
Where her wold would come of ruin,
If a change was not made.
A truth she acknolaged but could not accept,
cause the only strenght she could count on,
Did not exist.
- Sometimes those that struggle know they need help, but cant trust anyone to follow through with them. so they suffer under the guise of a facade.
Jun 2020 · 384
Am I beautiful Now?
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
Born Insecure, ever chasing perfection.
Never quite skinny enough,
Never quite pretty enough,
her soul was the purest,
This fact would elude her.
Her form was her weakness,
This fact would consume her.
Until the day had come,
when a breathe she could not draw,
as the Portrait on her arms,
had Spilled all her ink.
- Its an ugly world we live in, where the parameters of beauty are controlled by the ugliest among us
Jun 2020 · 872
The Blushing Moon
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
An orb of silver,
Shimmering in the sky
Reflecting the light
Of the sun we so adore.
Full of light at her end
She's a dime to behold
when she's in full bloom
And a smile to adore
When she is but a crescent

The words I use to describe her,
Will tell you how I feel.
How could I not be infectuated,
When she watched over my birth
When nobody else did.
She's was a shoulder to cry on
When nobody else was,
and was a subject to write about
When nobody else was.
So I write to her in vain,
And I sing about her in vain,
And think of her when I wake,
Cause I've tied her to my fate.
My efforts to get her attention,
Have all drowned out In vain...
Or atleast that's what I thought,
for what else could be,
When her silence is all i bought.
But You See today is the day,
She responds to my words
and my advances in kind...

You see I wanted her to smile
when her form was in full,
and Shine bright when it was not...
All signs of effections,
she could not achieve,
but with a lunar eclipse
There's an emotion she can express,
Just for me...
A sign, a reaction,
an emotion of effections
For her treasured cancerian.
When her cheeks blush a light red,
I'll know the reach of my words
To have touched a soul so far beyond
The reach of my own.
She will have said all she needs to,
And I'll rest fully assured,
knowing the love of my life,
had blushed at my birth.
- Written for the Strawberry Moon of June 2020
Jun 2020 · 152
Brave Wilson Jun 2020
He still try to impress her, but why?
A priority he is not, a fact shes all but proven.
Her words and her actions,
Like puzzles from a jigsaw,
with no  pieces in the center.
Yet he clings on her words,
with hope down to his soul.
He's condemned the religious man
for blindly following God,
who does nothing to prove he's real
and condemned the very same God
on a count of faith being a liability.
And like a cruel twist of fate
in his own Life's Journey,
the only way he can attain,
A sense of joy is by the faith
that she'll someday let herself love him
as he's so clearly shown he loves her.
A joke it is really, when this condition was set,
with his afterlife on Libras scales,
He weighed his mortality wasn't worth a simple maybe,
but now a maybe holds more stock,
then his heart saying he should stop!..
He can't even contemplate choosing
himself over a girl that disregards him,
And all he can care about
is which choice will ensures her smile won't see doubt.

Pathetic isn't it.
- I think the poem mostly speaks for itself, but yeah this is how I felt about someones daughter.
Mar 2020 · 182
The sound of snow
Brave Wilson Mar 2020
A blade of grass,
a flake of snow,
as lovers pass
Leaving some in woe.
She walks all alone,
Down dead man’s road.
Hoping to find,
a single flake of silent snow,
She can call her own
A twist of fate, our meeting scene,
Dwn on dead man’s road.
Like that of friends not ment to be,
With a warm subtle smile,
and every piece of her damage,
she great all of mine.
and single flake of snow
would send us off to hide in the cabins down below,
and as the  flakes of snow
would surely start to fall,
and all we could see were the seas of silent snow,
as far as our minds could go.
But enjoy the scene I could not,
do for I was trapped in trance of blue,
I looked above her buttoned shirt,
saw no flaw apon her face,
her smile,
her jaw,
her chest,
her *******,
down till her waist.

with every breath she would inhale,
apart of me she would prevail,
as all I saw Within her eyes where dreams of us in silent snow.
-Theres a certain purity to falling inlove.

— The End —