It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

When some think of falling
They can't help but think of flying

And when some think of flying
They can't help but think of falling

You shattered me, my creator
I was built up by you, to be your muse


And you broke me, whole heartedly
your fist cracked through, and my nose drew


Crimson paint, that you then took
and painted away


On your new canvas


And there I am, at last, remade

I just wanted a breath of fresh air.

That is why I opened the window,
to see the sun, my skin, too fair.

I did it not to let the hurling storm in
To make a mess of my room, because of the wind.

I did it to breathe for once, at par
With the sky that drags north breezes from afar.

But in the end, who would blame the wind?
For I am the one, who opened the curtains.

my arms are heavy as they hang to the side

dripping ******, puddles of mahogany

i look up to see

anger in your eyes.

shattered glass lays dead on the floor

broken peaces of a reflection i recognized once before

and your tongue whips letters, form into words

oh, and how they hurt
oh, and why they hurt
what for?

I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still ***** his thumb
in secret
how come my knees are
always so ashy
what if I die
before morning
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.

I have to learn how to dance
in time for the next party
my room is too small for me
suppose I die before graduation
they will sing sad melodies
but finally
tell the truth about me
There is nothing I want to do
and too much
that has to be done
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.

Nobody even stops to think
about my side of it
I should have been on Math Team
my marks were better than his
why do I have to be
the one
I have nothing to wear tomorrow
will I live long enough
to grow up
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.

You’re sickeningly intoxicated
With your orange blossom smoke

that rises from the tip of your shrivelled down kif

It’s makes me gag, it makes me choke

the scent of calabrian bergamot,
it sits in the back of my throat

and yet the blanc musk that you leave behind

leaves me wanting more,
I chase wildly as I climb up the grape vine

I cringe at the despise, at the hypocrisy, that fills my mind with those blessed be

scents, and notes
of fruity floral dope