There is a voice inside of everyone's head
Who it is, that's up to you.
Some claim It to be God
Others a copy of themselves.
The voice inside my head
Her name is Amory.
She hates when I feel good.
She takes good people and morphs them
Into terrible souls of torture and agony.
She often tells me to do bad things.                                                          ­ S
I feel I have no control over her, rather,
She is the one controlling me.
She toys with me via anxiety
Tossing my emotions every which way.
She has no mercy to give
And no requests to take.
Everyone has a voice in their head.
Who is yours?

What a lovely day it is today.
A wonderful summer day.
The sun is sHining,
The clouds are gone
And the water is cool.
Not a thing can go wrong.                                                                           E
My family is happy
And so am I.
We all Love each other,
Just like a normal family should.
When we are all together,
No one ever fights or yells.                                                                          P
We all are so happy,
In our little Wisconsin home.

I have a box
It contains something
Something I am proud of
Something I built,
Something I created.
It is the crown jewel of my life.
But wait -- don't look in the box!
You must trust what I say.
Believe what I say is in the box.
If you saw it, you would be most certainly saddened.
Not because the object is horrifying
Or because it is explicit.
It's because if you looked inside
You'd find nothing at all.
You'd find that you did not trust me,
And because of that you discovered the truth.
You tore away my façade, the one thing I held dear
But you did something else that I did not expect.
You did not turn away.
You did not anger.
Instead, you filled my box with love
And so it became a real treasure,
Celebrated by the both of us.
You filled an empty space that was once a false life.
You saved me,




















M/\®l

You see, I know a girl
She's quite beautiful,
She's very funny.
She loves everyone
And has no mistakes to be made.
But my mind,
A desolate, dark plane
Has taken this joyful girl
And twisted her so.
She became a darkness to me,
My mind hated the fact that she made me feel joy.
A brutal pit I threw her into;
Each time I close my eyes
She dies

over...

and over...

and over...

By my hands
An endless bloodspatter,
A Hell with no escape.
I want to **** her so bad
But why?
What leads me to feel this way?
Why has her image been so bent and misshapen?
It's as if I put her in a funhouse,
Amidst all the mirrors,
Twisting and turning her.
She is trapped inside my mind,
A place where she will die,
Brutally,

over...

and over...

*and over...

I remember that day, yes.
The very first moment I laid eyes on you.
You were stunning, something about you was just different.
I had no choice but to talk to you.
And look at us now -- separated but still together,
miles away but still connected.
The chakra that comes off of you is most reflected in love --
but I saw that coming.
Oh, my beautiful Mari.
You are my best friend, my confidant, my go-to-gal.
One day.
I will see those eyes of your again.
I will feel that heartbeat again.
I will kiss you, something I regret not doing.
You will see me again.
Whether it be a minute or a year from now,
I will be there.
Hold on, love.
I'm coming home.

It was probably 2 in the morning.
I was out and about.
All of a sudden, I had this feeling.
This welling inside me to ****.
I laid my eyes upon a young girl.
She was probably in her mid-twenties.
She had fiery red hair and ocean blue eyes.
She walked with precedence and attitude.
She would be the one.
I followed her to her apartment, where she went to her bedroom.
I eyed her through the window, watching as she got in her bed.
Just as she had turned the light off, I slipped through her open window to observe her further.
She was already fast asleep, her body still.
I was about to make that permanent.
I went around the side of the bed.
I had brought with me nothing but my bare hands.
I slapped her ******* the cheek to wake her from her slumber.
Then, I grabbed for her throat and straddled her at the waist, pinning her.
I pushed my thumbs into her neck, choking her.
She gasped for air.
She dug her fingers into my chest, trying to break free.
But I just pushed, harder, harder,
until I felt it.
Each bone in her neck
pop crack crunch
The agony now rendered on her face as a horrific snarl.
Her body stopped.
She was paralyzed.
I let off her neck.
She gasped, trying to regain her breath.
She called out in agony as the pain set in.
Then, I grabbed a small glass from off the nightstand.
With all of the force my body could acquire,
I slammed the glass full force into her head.
I exploded in a spray of glass shards and blood.
She red water matched the color of her hair as it dripped down her face.
I saw it.
The light go out in her eyes.
And that was it.
*RIP Ms. Scarlet, ????-2018

I used to know love.
It used to live here, inside my soul.
It would fill me with joy.
It would light up when I saw Her.
But She was not real.
Love had tricked me,
A ***** trick indeed.
It had tossed me a false person, a figment of my imagination.
It caused so much despair and pain that I cast love aside.
I am afraid of it.
Love hurt me.
And it hadn't even really existed in the first place.
She was beautiful and strong and intelligent.
But She was gone before I could even realize she was not real.
Now, my soul has a scar.
It has since then retired to the darkest corners,
Reeling in my subconscious,
Collecting dust.