Pull my strings
my puppet master
Lift my feet
and walk faster

Set the stage
make the scene
Raise the curtain
going to please

Music plays
Hit the spot
White light flash
Devious plot

Applause is heard
Silence beckons
Disbelief
All is reckoned

Made you smile
or made you cry
Drop my strings
The puppet died

I continue to lay in bed
Regardless of the lack of sleep it brings me
Hoping that someday my body will feel comforted enough to fall into a slumber
As if the bags under my eyes
And the stiffness of my muscles
Weren't enough to let my body know it's time to rest
If only my mind would stop running
Then maybe I could feel tranquil
But the anxiety I experience is sharp
And my thoughts cannot feel peace

I prefer classical music
On days when I'm feeling numb
The exquisiteness of it all
Breathes fire into my soul
Slowly bringing me back
From an unending abyss
Until I feel almost human again

There are times
When I seem to be consumed
By an utter sadness
That not even I can write about

Should I explain?

I like to light cigarettes
Only to watch them burn away
Gradually turning into bits of ash
I miss their taste
And it's only then that I realize
That I don't drink enough
It's another weakness I'm not allowed

These days,
Pride seems to be my only salvation
Or perhaps it's stubbornness
A sheer force of will to get through the day

Either way,
Dreams remain pain filled
Life is a constant fight against the bleak
And I break mirrors every day
Cracking my reflection with ease
To fragment this forced smile
It's a necessary evil...
To hide everything that I feel
Because surviving is the only thing that matters

To be honest,
Happiness is something I can't touch
An emotion that I can't quite fathom
Though I can't seem to stop trying

Every jungle needs a queen
I'll be ****** if it isn't me

© 2014 Peach

Those who go to bed early
Look forward to tomorrow
Those who dread the coming day
Stay up until they can see the sun
Just to make sure they'll make it.

Summer breeze coasting through the trees
Wind chimes remind me
I've had better times
But here I am again
******,
Because I can't sleep peacefully
Mary Jane hides the worst in me

As I shut my eyes,
I only see
Darkness,
Liquid black
Like the color of my soul
I was doing so well you see

Clean
Sober
Running
Yoga

But I had a crack in my shield
And the nightmares came back
Brutally vengeful
I only had my screams to keep me company

3 hours, and one very hot shower later
And I'm back,
Contemplating life on the patio
Flicking a lighter
Breathing deep
Letting the smoke seep
Back into my system

*****
High
Still
Weak

It's a vicious cycle
Recovering from memories

My nightmare waits for me back home
2 hours and 12 minutes away
I can't put it off any longer
Just thinking about him makes me anxious
And terribly sad
Because people who tell you they love you
Shouldn't hurt you
They shouldn't force and rip their way inside of you
Until everything burns
Make no mistake
Tears don't blur the violence
Soap never disinfects the shame of silence

I think I should be over it by now
Honestly, **** happens
People get ***** every day
Anyone who tells you different is a liar
Or perhaps just blind
Either way,
I don't need prayers
I don't need sympathy
I probably need a **** lobotomy
Or maybe just a clean slate

So I continue to breathe
One breath at a time
While my eyes gradually drift close

I am alive
But parts of me are dead
I
    Am
            Not
                    Broken
But even Wonder Woman needs a day off

© 2014 Peach

I like poetry and cigarettes
I like to pretend there's nothing left
Of a heart, of my beating brain
I like to pretend I'm still the same
Girl you fell for who likes the light
I like to pretend that I'm alright

I like sunrises and late sunsets
I like to place my calculated bets
On the possibility of numbers, pounds
I like that I feel time running out
That my hours are counted and dry
I like to pretend I don't ache or cry

Or shriek, a banshee to the moon
I like to say I'll get there soon
I like to think I'm like Liz Taylor
In diamonds, not a rotting failure
I like to say I still dream of peace
That I'm not insane or craving release

I like lists, planning, and cold style
Brandy and whisky and travelled miles
I like pages filled with art
I like to think I'm still in her heart
I call myself a golden-age fighter
I like to pretend it's getting brighter
I'll say I love these things till I die
Because I've no clue who I am inside.

*© Tara India