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storm siren Nov 2016
It's easy to hate people
For things you don't understand.
I know.
I've been on both ends.

And the funny thing
About people hating other people,
Is that we're really not that different.

I mean, according to recent studies,
Race doesn't even biologically exist.

And most religions look and act the same,
In some way, shape, or form.

Almost every one has started some type of war,
Though it was truly based upon greed and power.

Humans have a strange thirst for power,
I've never really understood it.

I've hated my fair share
Of humans.
Granted, most of them were violent ******.

Granted, so am I.

Though I am violent in the vindictive, spiteful sense.
No better, really.
A false sense of righteousness
Because I believe I can cast judgment upon those who have sinned,
While ignoring my sins.

You have no reason to judge another,
For you are not clean of sin.

Now,
I'd get off my high horse,
If the ground wasn't so *****
And full of hate.
It makes my stomach weak,
Too much dark.
Not enough light.

Of course,
If all were well,
I'd think there were too much light,
Not enough dark.

There needs to be a balance,
But the balance is too dark.

I wonder how you can't see it,
How you can force yourself into denial
And live in your little fantasy world
Where all is good, and all is this, and all is that.

I'd like to think it's because you haven't seen what I've seen,
But you have.

But you do know.

And that scares me.

So keep hating this,
But not that.
Keep hating that,
But not this.

You can't make excuses,
When you hate all around the board.

Be careful who you hate,
It might be someone you love.
storm siren Nov 2016
Blasting music as loud as my little internet machine
Will let me,
And for such a pointless computer,
This thing gets pretty loud.

And I've caught myself humming or singing
Which for me is strange.

And I guess I'm happier,
Even though I'm still waiting for it all
To come crashing down.

But for now,
I'm hoping it won't.
I just hope I can manage a smile out of you
Today.
storm siren Sep 2016
You loved others before me.
I tried so hard to love others after you,
When this crush was so unrequited.

Such are crushes.

But I loved you from day one.
Stubborn will,
Determined everything,
Lazy intelligence,
And ability to make me laugh.

And then after years of not seeing each other,
I saw you again,
And the feelings were the same.

And then after seven years,
They burst around me,
These feelings are flames and I am simply dry kindling.

And you saw me,
I think,
For the first time,
In a new light.

In the light
We were always meant to be seen in.

The light I've always seen you in.

And being in your arms,
However shy I am,
However skittish,
Scared,
Or nervous I am,
It melts off of me
And I am strong and I am kind and I am yours,
And those are the only three qualities I need to have.

I will follow you,
Wherever you need to go.

I will walk side by side with you
Forever,
Because that's all I want.
I really like that we're both nerds. <3
4.2k · Dec 2016
Ignore me
storm siren Dec 2016
Go ahead and ignore me
Go ahead and see through me,
Walk through me,
Whatever,
Who cares?

I can do whatever,
Whenever,
You won't see me,
You won't appreciate me.

Why even bother
Trying?
storm siren Jun 2016
You're sitting in the hospital bed.
You're smiling but you're crying.
You're telling the nurses over and over and over
"He's not a bad person."
"I don't want you to think he's a bad person."
"He didn't mean for this to happen."
(Just like, later on, you have to tell your friends and his friends and your family and his family the same things)

They shake their heads at you, but smile and squeeze
Your hand or shoulder comfortingly.
You won't realize this until later,
But you were so far in denial
And everyone knew it.

You're in your new therapists office.
He's asking you to recall a time men didn't scare you.
You smile and say,
"What? Men don't scare me."

He frowns and reaches for a tissue,
And you flinch.
His frown deepens as he hands you the tissue,
You realize you've been crying for the entire session.

It's the day before your anniversary with him.
You've been fighting for the whole week.
You just want to talk to him,
Figure out why he's so mad at you.
Why he keeps taking it out on you.

So you bring it up,
While you try to prepare dinner.
Knowing that if you say the wrong word,
You might have to figure out a new place
To sleep for awhile.

He says something, stands up.
You're thinking the whole time:
"How did it get this bad?
What did you do wrong this time?
Why do you always do this?"
You flinch.
Your back is against the stove that you haven't turned on yet.

There's a flare of anger and pain in his eyes
As he tells you,
Trying not to yell,
"I won't hurt you!"

You realize that you're scared of him.
That you're not just in this relationship because you love him.
You're there because you fear him.

And you think to yourself
"How can I be so stupid?
I was in the last one because I was afraid.
I wasn't in love.
But I love him.
Why am I scared of him?
He won't hurt me."

But he gets mad, and slams things.
Hits himself.
And you realize it's because he won't hit you.
But he wants to hit you.

Things only ever get worse,
And sooner or later
Due to his friends advice,
You leave for two days
To give him some space.
He says he'll pick you up,
That Sunday from your friends house.

He arrives on Sunday, a little over an hour late.
He hasn't spoken to you all weekend.
You want to attribute the fear to your abuse and anxiety.
But when he shows up,
He brought most of your things.
He breaks up with you on her porch,
With cliches like
"We met at the wrong time."
"It's not you, it's me."
"I don't want this to be the end."

And you realize,
He's just painting himself as the good guy.

But he's not a good guy.

Because the one time you were honest with him
About how bad you were getting,
And you weren't even there for it because you black out when overwhelmed,
He used it so he could be the victim.
Twisted it so the suicidal girl had to comfort him because it made him lose trust in you.

And he's telling and told all his friends
That you use your mental illness
To manipulate him.

And you want to scream at him,
Because you've never done that.
He's used his everything
To twist you up.

You should have run for the hills the moment he got mad
At you for having an anxiety attack in the car
In public,
Saying
"I hate when you do this. It makes other people think I abuse you."

Because that was the moment
He probably realized he was doing exactly that.

And you should have run as far as you could,
Because that was two months before it ended,
And it only got worse.
He only got worse.

And you shouldn't have stayed,
Because he was this way from the beginning.
He has thin skin and angers too easily.
Would throw grown-up tantrums
When something went wrong
When you told him he was wrong
Or told him he hurt you.

You should have run.
You should have cut ties.

Love cannot heal someone
Who doesn't want to be healed.

And he didn't heal you
He made you worse.

But he won't be the one to break you.

Because a wolf in sheeps clothing
Will always be just that.
People will see the sheep
That sometimes gets a little too close
To the meat at dinner,
That sometimes disappears.

And a rescue dog
Will always have that pain,
But that doesn't mean you can't be happy
One day.

And that wolf in sheeps clothing,
He promised he wasn't a wolf.
He promised he wouldn't do this.
That he was just a sheep.
But what do promises mean
To monsters
Anyway?
(This doesn't go in chronological order, for those who are curious)
3.5k · Aug 2016
I love you too much
storm siren Aug 2016
I love in extremes,
And I love you too much.

There is all of me,
And then there is all of me.

I love you with all that I am,
And with all that I have,
And I love you too much,
But I'd rather love you too much,
Than not at all.

Because I either love and care
With every part of me,
Or I don't seem to care for caring
At all.

I love you too much,
But I love you so much,
That too much is okay.

And you're the light
That makes my heart so bright,
And maybe I love you too much,
But if I give you all of me,
Will you gladly accept?

It's a risk
I am more
Than willing
To take.

Settle roots
Inside my heart,
And call it home.
I love you too much,
Can we watch our roots grow?

Your smile and care
Planted a seed within me,
And now I sit among the branches
Of the tree it has become,
Swinging my legs,
Smiling at you from afar.
And we've come so far,
And I love you too much.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byHSQoemFvI

Written to the song North by Sleeping At Last, inspired by the love in my heart for my Bluebird.
3.4k · Sep 2016
Psychopath
storm siren Sep 2016
Here it goes again,
Here it comes again,
The articles about
Psychopaths
And the accusatory tone
Twisting behaviors
Twisting actions
To sound toxic
To sound dangerous
To stamp a big red label on my skin,
Screaming
"AVOID THIS ONE AT ALL COSTS"

While I sit and weep.

But these articles
Blog posts
People fleeing from me
Left and right
Are lies, right?

Tell me, please,
Tell me,
Someone?

My anxiety and need to be reassured
Roots from my PTSD,
And my neediness and wants for attention
Is normal for my upbringing,
Right?

And writing poem after poem
About how much I care for you,
And making playlists
With songs in it
That make me think of you,
Is just a sign that I care,
Right?

I don't want to be
A psychopath.
I don't  want to be
A toxic person,
I don't understand
How telling someone you love them,
Is bad?

But these articles say that showering someone
In constant attention and praise
Means you're a psychopath.

And these blog posts
Are telling me that poems and gifts and music,
All means you're selfish and unfeeling.

But I don't want to be,
I care so much, I love you so much.

I'm afraid
Of who I am.
2.8k · Jul 2016
Night terror
storm siren Jul 2016
It must be two in the morning.
it's cold. Dark. The bleeding is relentless.
My fault.
I didn't ask for any of this
but in the end it is my fault alone.

I try to breathe.
how?
I can't.
it feels like
liquid nitrogen.
not oxygen.
I need air.
can't breathe.
chest collapsing.

I wake up.

two ten.

still dark out.

got a text
at ten something
from my Bluebird of Peace.
a list of inappropriate but still humorous jokes.

some are cringey,
but I still laugh or smile.
and so guilt and shame are washed from my mind,
as I debate running
to the bathroom
to wash the cold sweat off
that has drenched my skin
and clothes.

I keep smelling iron
though I know it isn't there.

the things I have seen
and the things I have lost
like to haunt me.

I would like to be a ghost.
to haunt them
in return.

instead I breathe in.
I breathe out.

I change clothes,
stripping down entirely to put on shorts and a t-shirt.
I put on his hoodie.
Wait for warmth.
Hold my old stuffed lion.

send my Bluebird
a text.

I need some type of noise,
but all I hear is snoring
and the dripping of a faucet.

I am glad
for instances like these
that I do not
live alone.

at least this time
i didn't cry myself awake.

one day
it will be different.

"That part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail."
Nightmares. written from phone.
storm siren Sep 2016
Please be strong; Please be brave,
You never told me
You wouldn't stay.

Why get invested
When it all disappears,
Why even stay?
What's the point to being here?

I am strong,
I am brave.
No one said
I had to stay,

But I will stay,
Because staying
Was my intention
All this time.

I will not leave,
That type of life
Just doesn't suit me.

I know at times,
I'm one for strife,
But I'm going to be here
With you, for life.
Thoughtful.
2.7k · Mar 2017
Let Your Guard Down
storm siren Mar 2017
I allow myself
To be vulnerable
Around you.

Because love is mostly
About trust,
And I trust that you
Will love the
More fragile parts of me
And treat them with care.

I am only strong
When I need to be.
Otherwise
It's a waste of effort.

My skin longs to be touched by you.
A sort of skin starvation,
Where short, sweet kisses
Only wet my appetite.

I allow myself to feel this love for you,
To let it make me honest.
To let it make me vulnerable.
I am willingly and forcibly dropping my guard and my walls.
I have been doing so for eight months.

And I will let you see all of me
For eternity,
Only asking that,
In turn,
I may see you.
2.5k · Feb 2017
Waiting (My Generation)
storm siren Feb 2017
My generation
Is the generation in waiting.
We're just waiting
For our lives to change.
We do all the things
We're supposed to,
And are still met
With criticism.

Because half of us
Are doing our best,
Working our hands to the bone,
Breaking down from some
Terrible disorder.
And the other half
Are just wading around in the kiddie pool,
Trying to find their footing into adulthood,
Or not.

The adults
That were the adults
That raised us
Like to only focus
On the half that's not even trying.

But we're the generation
In waiting.

We all waited to be eleven,
So our Hogwarts letters would come.
Because we wanted to escape
This pointless existence.

Now we're all twenty two or turning so,
Give or take a few months/years,
And we're waiting for the moment
Everything changes.

Waiting on that interview, that promotion, that phone call.
Waiting for someone to confess, waiting to confess,
Or in my case, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

We wait,
Because we were never taught
That our lives were our own,
We were always considered
Tools to be used by others,
Our purpose isn't ours,
And that's not a bad thing.

We're in waiting,
Because we're waiting for someone to save us,
To come to our aid,
To grab our hands
And whisk us away
To a better place.

But maybe if we all stopped waiting,
Maybe if we got up and did things for us,
And therefore each other,
We wouldn't be the generation in waiting--
Rather, the generation of doing.
storm siren Sep 2016
Don't talk like that.
Don't do that to me.
Don't tell me that this happens
I don't want that to happen.

I can't handle it
This night is bad enough,
And it makes me so scared
That the secondary feeling of anger
Is fluttering around in my heart,
Because I know you love me.
And I know you want to stay,
And I know you're going to stay.

Please make this stop.
hahahahhahaaa breakdowns are fun, right? Wrong.
storm siren Jan 2017
Humans are stardust.
Nothing more
Nothing less.
We, being stardust, are also energy.
So we cannot be created
Nor destroyed.
Only reborn, constantly.

And I think there's something
Just lovely about that.

I think the reason some of us like the smell of gasoline,
Or the smell of a charred grill,
Or just things burning,
Is because that's what they say space smells like.
And think those few of us
Who enjoy the smell of gasoline,
Charred grills,
And burning things,
Are those of us who somewhat remember
Being nothing more, and nothing less, than a star.

And I think the only people who can remember being stardust
Are the newest and oldest of souls.
Because they're the ones closest to both
The beginning
And the end.

And, while I know it hurts to remember
Things you cannot fathom,
I think there's something beautiful--
Strangely beautiful.
Obscurely beautiful,
In having lived so many lives
Yet still remembering when you were the very first you.

Humans are stardust.
Nothing more,
Nothing less.
We, being stardust, are also energy.
So we cannot be created
Nor destroyed.
Only reborn, constantly.

And I think there's something
Just lovely about that.
storm siren Oct 2016
He took all that I had from me,
So I dyed red streaks into my hair.
He left me less than before,
So I chopped waist length hair
Into a boy-short pixie cut.

And time and time again,
I shaved the sides,
And dyed my hair
Purple
Green
Pink
And Auburn.

And he destroyed me
On a day to day
Basis.
So I went from brown
To black
To blonde
To pink.

And when he finally released
His hold on me,
I debated dying my hair
Lilac or periwinkle.
But instead,
I decided I would let my hair
Grow.

My hair will be long
And beautiful
And feminine.

I will be beautiful
And feminine,

And nothing like
You've seen me
Before.

And I can only hope
That with you
I will have no burning desire
To cut my hair
Or change my color.

I hope
With you
My hair may grow,
Within the dark reds and dark browns
That it has.
Have you ever noticed that when a girl is done with you, she cuts or dyes her hair or changes it drastically? Well, I'm finally keeping my natural color and growing it out (though I will forever miss having pink hair), and I just hope that my Bluebird never gives me reason to change that. (I bet five bucks he won't ever give me reason to)
2.1k · Sep 2016
Life's Greatest Adventure
storm siren Sep 2016
I always wanted
To adventure
And life's greatest adventure
Has always been
And will always be
Loving someone else.

The reason?
There's a fifty percent chance
Of failing.

I mean seriously,
You could die
From a fall like that.

Or,
Just maybe,
You'll fly,

And find that the greatest adventure in life,
Isn't living,
No, it is living and loving.

All about doing the right thing.
Making sacrifices,
Tearing down walls,
Asking for help.

Doing what you fear most,
Taking the risk,
Going all in
Because the risk makes
You all the stronger.

This is life's greatest adventure!

Loving you is the greatest risk I've ever taken,
But I've loved you for so long,
I know it's worth it.
"The greatest risk you can ever take is loving another person. You can either fall from great heights and lay there broken, or learn to fly on the way down."

Thank you for teaching me to fly, Bluebird. <3
storm siren Oct 2016
Crossing the field
One foot after the other,
Grass under my feet,
Clay staining my skin red
With each heavy step.

I drag along,
Instead of flying past like I once did.
My each step is slow and hesitant,
Instant of a leap and a lunge
Towards whatever the future may hold.

And grasshoppers
And little moths and fireflies
Float and hop around me,
As the sun settles behind the Earth,
And the moon rises into the sky.
The grass is green, but yellowing,
And leaves decay at my feet.

Spirals of red and orange leaves
Spin around me a thousand times,
And the falling stars caress
My moonlit skin.

I am the night time,
And I don't want to be.
I am when the wolves and coyotes sing mournful songs,
I am when the foxes and cats come out to hunt.

I am the night time,
And I creep across golden fields
As slowly as the gold fades to gray,
Where the sky touches the earth.

And I want to be warmed by the sunlight,
But I am shivering and cold,
Within my shadow realm.

I sit within the tall grasses,
Amongst the trees that sway in
The harsh winter winds.
I feed off moon flowers and snapdragons,
Yearning to find a daffodil for myself.

And the warmth of the sun calls me home,
But I want to be bask in the light,
Instead I blow away,
And I disappear.

And as I prance and spin in the evening,
Casting rays of blue twilight across the landscape,
My brown eyes catch your blue,
And while I believe you can't see me,
I hope to the moon and back that you do.

I am the spirit of the night time,
But your eyes are like the day's sky,
And I could stare into your sunlight lined iris's
For eternity upon eternity.

And with fluttering wings,
I painted you stars in the royal violet and navy sky,
I prayed that you'd make me yours,
But I was impatient
And you fell along with me

Into the realm where
Landscape meets starscape,
And the blues of the night
Met the greens of the day,
And I'll love you forever
Where the sky touches the earth.
<3 Tomorrow is just two weeks. <3 We're so close, Bluebird! I love you.
1.9k · Jul 2016
Agree to Disagree
storm siren Jul 2016
She rolls her eyes,
"All lives matter."

I roll up my sleeves,
"Yeah, but you're not dead."

All lives matter,
Yeah sure whatever.
Your life didn't matter as much to me,
When we thought my mom was dying,
When the coma happened,
When the car crash happened.

This isn't your tragedy,
Feel empathy
Feel sympathy,
But don't talk to me
About your vapid apathy.

All lives matter.
******* *******,
You just want to be included.

My life didn't matter,
When I was on the brink or the edge or when I craved to walk towards a light,
Because you were having mommy issues.

Do not tell me that
Anything matters to you.

We cannot fix this
Dilemma
This atrocity
With violence.
We can fix it
With powerful words
And small solutions
That over time will benefit
My children,
And yours.
And their children.
And their children's children's children's children.
It will take years,
Or decades
But it will be worth it.

I will not raise a fist,
I will not raise my voice.
As you slash and slash and fire and fire
And scream in my face,
Yelling over my words.

You're screaming:
"ALL LIVES MATTER, WE NEED TO BE INCLUDED. INCLUDE EVERYONE. AN EYE FOR AN EYE. A HAND FOR A HAND."

And all I whisper while you scream,
Your wretched saliva staining my cheeks where tears used to stream, but will no longer.
"We wanted peace, so we stand together."

We're called the United States
For a reason.

Buy a dictionary.
It might help you out.
I'm a sarcastic little ****, but this issue is getting to me. I'm pretty ******* caucasian, yet I still know a lot about stigma (mental illness, homelessness/poverty, etc). I'm going to do all I can to protect whoever I can.
storm siren Oct 2016
"Do not judge them,"
She whispered softly,
"You may be old,
But you have yet to live as well."

And they stared at her,
For the first time in decades,
With eyes wide with wonder.
"But I have seen so many things,
I am certain I know more."

"No,"
Smiled the crone,
Orange eyes twinkling like starlight.
"You know what you know for yourself,
And yourself alone. Your wisdom is yours."

"Shouldn't I make my wisdom theirs as well?"
Cried the playwright.
"They're making too many mistakes, I have to fix it."

And still, the crone continued to smile.
"Their mistakes are theirs to make."
She reached out and placed a hand upon the playwrights' paper.
"Just as your wisdom is yours, their experiences are theirs, and just as valid as yours."
She took the quill from the playwright, and tucked the crow's feather in her hair.
"Allow them to grow without your bias."

"But I don't approve--"
The crone gave the playwright a bright smile,
Though her eyes were dark,
Which ultimately shut them up.

"Your place is not to judge. It is to nurture. It is to guide."
She said softly, though her tone was much more assertive.

"Then let me guide,"
The playwright began.

"There is a vast divide between guidance and control."
The vision of her shimmered, and she took a step back.

"I don't understand."
The playwright held their head in their hands, knuckles white while gripped onto curls.

"And you will not understand until you yourself live."
The old crone cooed, before her image blew away in soft red wind.

And there the playwright was left,
A half written letter filled with judgment and smudged ink,
And no quill to finish it with.
They fell back into their chair,
Glaring at their writing desk.

Whether or not the crone was right or wrong,
They still didn't get their quill back.
Just a thought.
1.8k · Oct 2016
Birds of a Feather
storm siren Oct 2016
You clipped my wings
For years.
Subduing me through medications
That now I take to help me.

You clipped my wings,
And for what?
To watch a downward spiral
Of regret and turmoil,
And you'll never be proud of me
Unless I turn out just like you.

You clipped my wings,
But I've grown brand new feathers:
I'm flying and I'm soaring.
This life I have just proves
That your judgment and scorn is boring.

You used to clip my wings,
But you don't have a hold on me anymore,
And I know it's driving you absolutely mad
Watching me soar.

You used to clip my wings,
And I'm so glad that you're not in charge,
Because this is my life,
And I know that drives you crazy.

You used to
And still are trying to
Clip my wings.
But you can't,
I won't let you.
I'm just who I have to be.

You can't clip my wings anymore.

It's time to let birds of a feather
Flock together.
Please just stop. (In reference to my father who would rather me become a little him instead of do what I believe is right for me)
1.7k · Nov 2017
Precious Childhood Memories
storm siren Nov 2017
"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You get a sudden rush of cold late Winter air.
The world smells like it's never going to stop raining.
Your brother and you are sitting outside the garage.
You can't stop crying,
But he's still trying his damndest to comfort you.
You were five.
For three years after, you will still think it is your fault
For coming inside covered in rain water.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

Your eyes stung with tears.
Your chest felt heavy.
But you couldn't tell what hurt worse,
The literal smack across the face,
Or the sting of betrayal when your mother agrees with your father,
That you are, in fact, no good.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You're sitting out in the living room of the apartment.
The room is dark,
Except for a fading lamp.
It is 9:30 at night.
The sun is only beginning to fall behind the horizon.
Your father finally speaks,
After clearing his throat,
A slight cough to clear the residual cold from the ice of his drink-- tonight was scotch, thank god.
He says "Y'know, it's okay if you're a lesbian. Just make sure your girlfriend is hot. Oh, and blonde." He laughs bitterly between sips.
You can smell the alcohol from where you're sitting.
You can feel the dread in the pit of your stomach.
You feel hot anger piercing and burning your palms.
You hold your fists tighter.
You clench your jaw until your head hurts.
You mumble something.
"What?" He snaps, half apathetic, have with a dangerous edge.

"I don't like blondes." You say through gritted teeth. It's only a half-truth. You don't actually like anybody, blonde or otherwise.

He laughs, but you know it's forced.
"Trust me when I say this, you definitely can't afford to be that picky."

Your eyes meet his. Shadow against shadow. Midnight against midnight. You don't speak. He laughs, and goes on to tell you how he's the only one in this family that even likes you, so you better start being nicer to him.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You don't remember hurting yourself,
So when she asks, you tell her
That you don't know where the cuts came from.
She calls you a coward for not having already taken your own life.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You were up all night,
Wishing you wouldn't wake up.
You go to walk out the door to the bus,
You stop in the kitchen to grab something quick for breakfast.
As soon as your hand reaches the cupboard handle, you can feel her gaze on your back.
You decide you don't want breakfast that morning.

"Why are you--"

She's in the hospital again.
You just wanted to celebrate your brother
Having made it another year in this hell hole.
But that's not what she wanted.
You both spend his birthday sitting silently in the hotel room,
Staring out the window,
Wishing that Spring would bring a change along with all the warmth it promises.

"-- burning precious childhood memories?"

Your little brother his crying.
The other is asleep.
But this brother has a cold.
The other is still asleep.
This brother cries
Because he doesn't feel good.
He's barely four months old
So he can't use his words.

He's crying very loudly.

She screams in his face.
Tells him to stop crying.
Tells him to just shut up already.
You jump off the couch
And yell at her as loud as your eight year old self can manage to be.
"DON'T YELL AT HIM. HE'S ONLY A BABY!"

She glares at you,
A wicked snarl,
And tells you that she'll do whatever the hell she wants,
You're her children.

He's still crying.
Now they're both awake,
And they're both crying.

"Why are you--"

"W-why are y-you"

*"Why are you burning--"
storm siren Sep 2016
I didn't.

I never thought rain could be a good thing.

But did you know
Did you know
I'm doing the best I can
And did you know
Did you know
The light in my heart
Has only gotten brighter
Due to you?

And even if I'm afraid
Of what the future holds,
I know that if I'm holding
Your hand
I can handle anything
The world has up its sleeve.
1.6k · Oct 2016
Stay Stay Stay/Go Go Go
storm siren Oct 2016
If you're not here to stay,
Then you're here to cause pain,
And if you're here to hurt me,
Then you can get up and go.

If you're not here to stay
Then you're here to go,
And if you're here to go,
Get up and leave.

But if you're here to stay,
Then take my hand
And take me away
Take me away
If you're here to stay.

If you're here to stay,
Let's find a way
To love the night away.

If you're here to stay.

(If you're here to stay,
And I know you are,
Then love me that way you do,
And I'll be glad
To stay here with you.)
Twelve. Days. They need to go faster.
1.6k · Feb 2017
Ringing
storm siren Feb 2017
In
1, 2, 3.
Out
1, 2, 3, 4.

In
1, 2, 3.
Out
1, 2, 3, 4.

This breathing exercise
Won't change a thing.
But at least
I won't feel so much like
I'm drowning myself.

This distance between us
Is something I've become
Vividly aware of.
Much like my veins,
Much like my faults.

Maybe it's just me,
But I'd get frustrated with me too.
I know because I am me.
I live in my head.

I am ever the curious,
And ever the wondering.
Ever the insecure,
Forever grasping at straws
Hoping that I'd find that one virtue
About me
That will make me worthwhile.

I breathe,
Very aware of the expanding lungs beneath my ribcage,
The pulsating, blood filled heart in my chest.
Beating and beating and beating
Crying and crying and crying out:
Please just love us, we're all trying so hard!
Demanding that I follow it
To the end of time.

In
1, 2, 3.
Out,
1, 2, 3, 4.
storm siren Sep 2016
Don't let them see
You're hurting.

Reach out a little,
Ask for help,
But not too much.

Everything hurts,
But it's not a matter
Of mattering
It's matter
Of knowing you'll never
Be quite enough
For anyone.

Too distant a friend,
And when not withdrawn
Too clingy.
No in between.

Too troubled.
Too insecure.
Too much,
Just too much.

Don't ask for help.
Don't talk it out
Because you don't even know what's wrong,
Why have a support system
When you're breaking?

They'll leave anyway.

Close you eyes,
Hold your breathe,
You're in for something
Unexpected.

People might not help you
When you need it,
But they can't help you
If they don't know.

And they won't know
If you sew your mouth shut,
With "They'll leave anyway."

Take a risk,
Take a chance,
Tell a soul.
A kindred spirit
Will always
Hear it.
Fun fact: If you change the song you're listening to while writing a poem it changes how the poem ends.
1.5k · Jul 2016
Favorite
storm siren Jul 2016
My favorite color is green.

It has been since I first discovered how lively the shade could be.

My favorite character of all time in anything ever is Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist.

His determination and short-lived angry outbursts will always mean something to me.

My favorite animal character is Simba from the Lion King, or Kovu from the second one.

My favorite book is a tie between To **** a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and Dracula by Bram Stoker.

My favorite poet is T.S. Eliot, my favorite poem by him is The Hollow Men.

My favorite poem is by Charles Bukowski. It's called Bluebird.

Bukowski speaks to me because he's a sarcastic **** that's seen way too much, and everything he writes is practically satire on how human behavior is selfish but beautiful.

My favorite work of Edgar Allen Poe's is the Black Cat.

I despise all works of Robert Frost's besides "Nothing Gold Can Stay", mainly because I disagree with him. Sometimes gold can stay.

Peculiar and Juxtaposition are my favorite words.

I'm excellent at certain subjects (science, Literature) and horrible at others (math, history). I love science because I'm illogical and creative but vividly clear at all points in time. I am horrible at history because I get angry that so many people were hurt.

My favorite war in American history to learn about was the Civil War, because there are so many things we are unsure of. I have a three thousand page encyclopedia on it at my foster parents house.

My favorite tea is green jasmine tea with two and half teaspoonfuls of sugar for every eight ounces.

I count yellow cars, and then have vivid flashbacks to things I don't want to remember.

I have tiny routines that root from obsessive compulsive behaviors that come with being Bipolar. I have manic depressive disorder, to be specific.

When I hold hands with someone, my wrist needs to be behind theirs. I like feeling small and safe, and I'm childish when I feel safe.

I hate being called small or being treated like a child. I have a height complex, because I am small. I also have a hero complex. I want to protect people.

My favorite food right now is probably the katsu chicken one of my best friends made one night when I hadn't eaten for over forty eight hours.

I only eat instant ramen if I can make it spicy, but only the chicken one because the shrimp one always makes me sick.

Apple cider is my favorite winter drink.

My favorite writing platform is a chalkboard or pavement.

My favorite writing utensil are either chalk markers or chalk itself.

I count down the minutes until good things happen.

I take a kind of relaxation after the headache after I cry too hard passes. The relief is beautiful.

I laugh a lot, yell a lot, and cry a lot.

When I feel too strong an emotion, positive or negative, I yell. I don't always have the best control of my volume, seeing as I'm usually very quiet.

I try to manage money and time but I'm horrible at both.

I cry when I'm happy and sad and angry because I feel too much too often.

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Name a thing, I bet I can make it bad.

"If" is my least favorite word.

I don't generally say things unless I am 100% certain, because I can never be 100% in anything else.

I have PTSD.

My favorite coping skill is writing, baking, or holding a stuffed animal. Pillows don't count.

I used to carry dolls wherever I went because I was of the mindset "***** what everyone else thinks, I need to feel safe."

I don't always feel secure, but safe is a start.

I've learned I am a better person
Than I've thought.

So I think of my favorite things,
And think "If these are the parts of me
That make up who I am,
Then I cannot be so bad."
Well.
storm siren Jul 2016
Let me entirely clear,
As clear as crystal,
As clear as the sky
On a summer's day.

It has come to my attention
That I was a fraud,
Just as you were.

I have recently realized,
It was never you I loved.
It was your potential.
Who you could become.
Who I thought you were.

And now going over it all in my head,
I realized I fell for sweet nothings,
And soft tones,
And ginger touches,
And brash conversations
About politics
Where you were just agreeing
To appease me.

And I am still a firm believer
That you can love someone
Because of their flaws,
Not despite them,
Because that is true love in itself.

But I did not love your flaws.
I feared them. All of them.

And in hindsight
I regret
Confessing my soulmate philosophy.
And explaining the red strings of fate,
And telling you of my synesthesia and demisexuality.

Because my being demisexual made you feel special.
You aren't, by the way.

And you used,
Almost constantly,
My synesthesia against me.
Even when I told you
"It is not an ability,
Nor a power.
I cannot read minds."

I also told you
"It is not a party trick."

And you pressured me into using it for the latter
Due to your selfish desire
To use my as a ploy and a conversation piece,
Among other things.

I never loved you.
No,
I loved who I thought you were.

Because you are not good,
Nor kind,
Nor gentle,
And no where near loyal.

You are selfish
And cruel.

Judgmental glances
And cruel tones,
Harsh words,
And selfish intentions
Made up our relationship.

Your mother wrote
Upon her wall
What love is.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

It was literally written on the wall.

And we weren't any of that for each other.

If they had heard your words,
And if I had seen my own actions,
All would have known from the start
That we were toxic.

So keep fooling the world,
I'm going to be
A better me.

And upon these feelings for a Bluebird
Born under Mercury,
And the light of the star Spica,
I have come to see
The fear I have
For falling for anyone.

But maybe it's a risk
I'll be willing to take,
The closer I get,
The more sure I feel.
The ire of some men is too easily earned, and at that point is the point you should realize that you have grown beyond them, and maybe running as far from them as you can would be smart. Thank God for the other variety.
storm siren Nov 2016
You blamed me
You pained me,
And then you just plain ol' left me.

I know all your secrets,
And you know all of mine.
I was cool with you hurting me,
But not again, not another time.

Maybe I used you as a "punching bag",
But let's not forget how you "*******".
Lots a vile words, lots of venom,
Every ounce of you filled with hate.

Blaming it on nature?
Or, dearest little thing,
That's not nature, you're just nasty,
And only bad things you will bring.

I tried to be forgiving,
I tried to stitch up myself,
But all you do is lie and hurt,
And you could use a little help.

No, you were kind of right,
But I'm kind of insane.
Trust me when I say
You'll never get my trust again.
I was honestly okay with the insect hurting me, but now that she's moved on to others to prey upon, I'm not so okay with it anymore.
storm siren Aug 2016
Red,
Like a rose,
And
Bloodied
Like thorns.

I am thistle,
I am bramble,
I am natural
And will slice you open
If you get too close.

I am no princess,
I am no fragile dainty flower.

I am indestructible,
And I am softened
Only by the light
That follows my Bluebird.

I will not be walked upon,
As those who have left
Are vividly aware of.

But I will fly,
Like the Hummingbird he has called me.

Fluttering, buzzing,
Nurturing life,

Just as the love of my life
Has nurtured my soul,
And taught it to heal,
Taught it to love and laugh.

My blush is red like a rose,
But my tongue is sharp,
Like thorns,
Thistles,
And brambles.
Wow look stuff. Have fun pew-pew-pewing today, Bluebird. <3
storm siren Sep 2016
You told me I'm a lion,
That concerns itself much too often
With the opinions of sheep.

I worry too much,
Let's be honest.
I apologize too much,
And it hurts not to say sorry for that.

I am afraid
Almost constantly,
But overcoming my fear
Drives me
To be
Who I am.

If I am a lioness,
I am a queen,
And then I ask of you,
With a crack in the demand of my voice,
Be my king?

You claim I could not hurt a fly,
I could not hurt a soul,
But it is a choice,
Can't you tell?
To sheathe my claws
And not bare my teeth.

I could choose to be vicious,
I could choose to be cruel,
But vapid venom has no interest to me.

I choose to show weakness,
I choose to be vulnerable,
I choose to be
The me I accept.

Maybe I shouldn't concern myself
With the opinions of sheep,
But some sheep are wolves.

Though,
I suppose,
With the king of the jungle
At my side,
There's no need to fear
A pup that's too big for his britches.
Just a thought.
1.4k · Jul 2017
Broken People
storm siren Jul 2017
I think the reason
Broken people
Are always drawn
To other
Broken people
Is that they
See each other's missing pieces
And they're so aware of their own
Missing pieces.
And they think
"Maybe your pieces can go where mine did,
And mine can go where yours did,
And together
We can be almost whole."

But broken people
Aren't very good at being whole
When they've been broken for so long.
They don't know how to be anything
But broken.

So I end up pushing you away.
I push you far, far away from me.
Because even though I need you around,
And I desperately want you with me,
I don't know how to be whole
anymore.
And that's what you do.
You make me whole.

And I push you and push you and push you
But you don't leave.
Even though you have absolutely
Every reason to leave.
Even though no one would question it.
Everyone would understand it.
Most people would be more than supportive of it.

But instead, you stay.

And I don't know if I make you whole,
But I know that sometimes you push me away too.
Not as far.
You never push me away as far as I push you,

But I am always ready to leave.
Because I've already done the sticking-around-when-no-one-wants-me thing.
And I've learned that there's no chasing people.
If they want to leave,
They will leave,
And you cannot ever stop them.

And everyone leaves, sooner or later.

You can't make a person want you
And you can't make a person choose you.

And someone can want you every second of every day,
But if they don't choose you,
It doesn't matter.

That's what I've learned.

So when you push me away from you,
My instinct is to leave.
I've never really had an actual home
Or an actual family,
So leaving isn't actually hard for me.
As much as I want to stay right here,
In your arms forever,
Leaving is easy.
It's natural for me.
I never knew how to stay.
I've always been a run-away kind of person.
Besides, it never takes anyone long to move on from me.
I leave,
They move on,
Their lives are better.

The hard part isn't leaving, for me.
It's forgetting.
Because I don't forget,
I can't move on.

Everyone I've left,
Everyone that has left me,
I remember.
I remember the hurt.
I remember them.

I'm not afraid to leave
When you push me away
Because I know you'll move on quickly
And I know you'll be better off
When I'm gone.

But when I push you away
I'm always so scared you'll go.
Because I don't want to move on,
And I don't want you to think I'll just forget you.
Because I won't.
Because I can't.

And I know it hurts that I'm so quick to leave,
And I know that knowing that it's only because I'm so used to going
Doesn't make it better.

I'm going to try to stay,
Because you stay.
Because I won't ever forget you,
And I don't want you to forget me.

I used to think
That once you love someone--
And I mean really really
Love them,
With every part of you--
I think once you love someone,
Well...
You never really stop.
1.3k · Dec 2016
Nobody
storm siren Dec 2016
I write word after word after word
Backspace backspace backspace

Not good enough.

Needs to be

Better.

Isn't that how it always is,
Though?

Wanting to be better
And better
And better than that.

Nothing is good enough,
Right?

You rewrite and rewrite
And change your clothes
And change your clothes again.

You make a cup of tea,
But there's too much honey,
So you drink it and make it again,
This time there's not enough.
I swear the only reason I stay hydrated
Is because I keep remaking these cups of tea.

And I go and change my clothes,
And I rewrite and rephrase that sentence
And then that scene
And then this stanza,
And then I change my clothes again
All in hopes
To be better
Than before.

When will I be good enough
For myself?
Enough that I am even
Good enough for you?

Too casual, change into something cute.
Too cute, change into something ****.
Ugh, why bother?

The fear of never being good enough
Eating away at my brain,
And my brain screams and cries
Striving at perfection
That I'll never
Achieve.
1.3k · Nov 2017
Freedomverse
storm siren Nov 2017
Do you think
You could find the solution
To all this confusion
Within the lines
Of our Constituition?

No, no, hear me out,
Listen to these words,
That's what it's all about.

See, you think this is a Christian nation,
So let me explain,
Let me offer an explanation.

The point of this place,
Of our foundation,
Was freedom from persecution,
So let me clear the air
Of your verbal pollution.

See, the answer is in the opening statement,
In the words that expressed our need
For a moral replacement.

Listen, just listen,
To the words that would christen
Ever chance we are given
To pursue our ambition.

See, you want freedom.
You claim that is your cause,
But I'd wait a second,
Let my words give you pause.

Do you want freedom of religion,
Or is it just your decision
To bend with omission
Making the moral-north
Your special brand
Of Christian superstition?

See, you might not like
What I have to say,
But not much really matters
When you've been led astray.

The words that were written
Were giving permission
To speak fact or fiction
In whatever rendition
Suits your composition.

What was said was
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,"
Removing any notion
Of this nation being Christian.

They went on to add
"... or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;"
Establishing that we should dispose of
This notion that no love
Is the only free love.

It was then mentioned
That no one within power
Could prevent the intention
Of speaking loudly enough
That all could listen.

We were told our right
Was freedom of speech
That we all have
Our very own thoughts to preach.

We were given freedom of the press,
To say whatever truth must be addressed,
So we have more options,
More answers
Than just "No" or "Yes".
Nevertheless,
This process
Seems to digress
Away from the point,
To liberate the oppressed.

Listen,
This world is filled with danger,
We cannot take pride in being a nation of strangers,
Where the failings of our system
Is taken out on a teenager.

I just feel like we were supposed to be better,
Than a thread of angry tweets
And a Scarlet Letter.
I look back at those kids
Who have only blood on their sweaters,
And I start to remember
That we, the people,
We, the hopeful,
We don't surrender.
We are stronger together.

And as a former child
Whose smile
Was defiled
And wasn't given a chance
Before being exiled,

I urge you to look at your own,
To thank those you love
For always coming home.

I dare you to look an innocent in the eyes
And tell them there are so many possessions
That are worth more than their lives.

Because, to you,
Nobody is their own.
It is well known
That you will cast the first stone
Until you hear the break of their bones.
Why is it so important to you,
Someone else's *** chromosome?
Someone's reason for leaving home?
Someone making choices for their own?

You act like you do no wrong,
That as long
As you spit venom
The hatred will make you strong
But I know
That you knew all along
The enemy was never me
Or the people
We strive to be,

But it was the voice
That you use so cruelly
And told us not to believe,
So believe me when I say,
There will come a day
One cold Sunday
Where the runaways
Won't run away,
And you'll hear us say
"Come what may,
We're here to stay."

Because the rate of suicides
Is becoming much too high
For us to try
To hide
This monster that's eating us up inside
We try to confide
That it's this or that side
But we are all aware
That if we just put down our pride,
And stood with our hands held together
Our eyes fixed on the sky
We could do better,
We could love one another,
We could accept every sister or brother or other.
It just depends
On how soon we want the bloodshed to end.
1.3k · Oct 2016
Nobody the Dead Man
storm siren Oct 2016
“Nobody the dead man & Nobody the living
Nobody is giving in & Nobody is giving
Nobody hears me but just Nobody cares
Nobody fears me but Nobody just stares
Nobody belongs to me & Nobody remains
No Nobody knows nothing
All that remains are remains”

I was sixteen-- No, seventeen
When I first read that poem,
And I had memorized it
And could repeat it at will,
But nobody asked me
What the point was.

I'll let you in on a secret,
I'll let you in on the game:
I was just a child,
And yet I was a face without a name.

And here came the demon in my veins,
From my mother and her mother and
My mother's father's mother,
And it wrapped me in darkness,
It wrapped me in shame,
Why feel a thing,
When life is but a game?

And no, nobody asks you
Nobody wants to
Protect you
When it's dark
And you're alone
And everything bad
Comes out to play,
But people change.

And people change,
And I swear to God it's for the better,
And people will give up on you,
But some will stick around,
See it through,
As long as it means
Some type of happiness with you.

The poem was right,
No nobody knows nothing because nobody knows anything at all,
And all that remains
Will only ever be remains,
But I'd rather be a remainder,
Than a reminder.
I have writer's block so everything is a bit disjointed.

The quoted poem is by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl, from the YA novel Beautiful Creatures.
1.3k · Oct 2016
Daughter of the Moon
storm siren Oct 2016
I am the daughter of the moon,
And those I love cannot see me,
Because they don't care to look
At what is hard to see.

I am the daughter of the moon,
I come and go with the tide.
The coyote is my brother,
We mourn and howl side by side.

I am the daughter of the moon.
I spend most nights hiding in the shadows,
The new moon can't find me
When I feel so hollow.

I am the daughter of the moon,
I am made up of constellations.
You can't see me because
Everyone else shines so bright in preparation

For all the good things they'd rather
Find
Without the promise
Of the moon in mind.

I am the daughter of moon.
I am made up with Latin words that fill my head,
Like nox, lux, and silentium.

I am the daughter of the moon,
Who had a white worry-stone
With words painted across it
To remind me not to scream.

I am the daughter of the moon,
And you can't see
Me.
storm siren Aug 2016
Rather than built on pillars of sand,
We were built on stone and asphalt,
Metal bars children swing from,
Their laughter fading into the night
As they face the pains of growing up.

Stitched from the bark of a Black Locust tree,
Using vines made from platinum and steel
As the thread.
And thorns grown from
Diamond
And pure carbon,
Lace up the side of a castle,
And around that castle
A moat filled with black water,
With a PH balance of nine.

And in that black water,
Small water dragons swim,
And in the forest lurks,
The largest (and most friendly)
Lynx's you'd ever meet.

And inside that castle
Of blue
You'll find
Halls decked with red and orange to the East and South wings,
And to the West and North,
Seafoam greens and blues,
And the walls are built from glass,
As to watch the animals from within the moat that like to defy physics,
Swim about and find prey to sustain themselves.

And in the reds and oranges you'll find
Cats and dogs of all kinds,
All creatures of Canis and Felidae and Panthera roaming the halls,
Bounding after vermin,
Or pouncing onto poultry.

And the silk drapes,
Cascading through the halls,
In colors reflecting the sights we've seen.

And on days our halls
Have black blood running through the
Pipes,
Allow for me
To find you some light.

I may have trouble,
Discovering the sun
On my own
For me,
But if I can find
That I do it for you,
Then finding light
Will never have been
So simple.

And the main foyer will change
With the feelings
That are being felt
Most prominently.

And no storm
Of my making
Will shatter the glass
Keeping dragons within their homes.

And no storm,
Whether it be of my making
Or another's
Could tear down our Castle's walls,
No matter how much wind or lightening.
No hurricanes nor tornadoes,
Nor flooding
Could destroy us,
Because we'll be just as strong,
If not stronger,
Than the storm.

And with all that courses through my veins,
I will fight for the passing of each storm,
And watch as the rain fizzles out,
And the storm forfeits this particular fight,
And in the distance buzzing of animals in the trees,
I will know our fight was worth it,
As we watch a hummingbird hover and buzz circles around a floating bluebird,
As they come home from their migratory patterns,
and nestle into a tree,
With a sodden nest,
But warmth is found
Within fluffed up feathers
And a storm rolling out.

However unstable my heart,
Our castle was built on stable ground,
On which I've found,
A reason to keep continuing my purpose,
Instead of living a life without one,
A life with none.

My goal is holding your hand,
Sixty years from now,
And our castle being just as bright
And filled with overwhelmingly loving light,
As the day we established it as
Ours,
And ours alone.
Nothing wrong with blueprints, right? To be read while shrugging sheepishly.

No, but in all honesty, this is directly for you, Bluebird. <3 I hope you had a fun night.
storm siren Feb 2017
It's the biggest lie I've ever heard.
People only tell it when they become old, and bitter, and jaded.

You must be able to rely on yourself.
You have to be able to pick yourself up
Off the bathroom floor,
When you collapse in a mess of blood and tears,
At three in the morning.

But that doesn't mean you shouldn't rely on others.
That doesn't mean you shouldn't have faith,
Or hope,
And it doesn't mean you should never love.

I was told the opposite by a Catholic deacon.
He said
That when you feel down and out and full of self hatred
That it's okay to lean on those around you.
It's okay to ask them for help and guidance.

I struggled to hide tears, and I told him
"What if you have no one?"
Because at one point, that's exactly what I had.
No one.

He sat with me, and didn't bother hiding his tears.
I still wonder what made him cry, when he spoke to me.
Was it the fact that I was so small and young and yet so broken?
Or the fact that I reminded him of his daughter, and that I had, unlike her, faced much more of the worlds cruelty?

I tried not to let it get to me.

He told me
That if I feel I have no one,
Know that I at least have him in my corner,
And whether or not I still believe (and he understood if I didn't) that he would be praying for me
And a strong, and hopefully swift, recovery.

I like relying on others.
I like when they rely on me.
Humans are pack animals.
We must rely on each other,
It's what we're supposed to do.

And now that I have someone
Who I know I can always rely on,
I realize how bitter and cold and hopeless
A person must feel
To truly believe
You can only ever rely on yourself.
storm siren Jan 2018
It's funny, I think.
I guess it doesn't matter
If my soul is whole
Or torn and tattered.

There's a part of me
That finds peace in the night.
But that part of me
Doesn't always sound alright.

I like to wake up early,
When the world is still dark.
I sit and I wait,
To see if I recognize any part.

I am often reminded
Of hearts I've held in my palms.
I remember them fondly,
Each and every one of their songs.

Some nights,
The past drenches me in a cold sweat.
Some nights,
You remind me not to forget.

Some nights,
I can't tell my truth from their lies.
Some nights,
I find my home staring in your eyes.

I feel myself falling
Into pools of blue
Twirling threads of gold
That always lead me back to you.

Living in your heart
Is walking through a forest
On a cool, mid-Spring morning.
The waking birds and budding flowers rapidly become our chorus.

The ground beneath me
Sinks and soon gives way,
I plummet through the night sky
And find myself waiting on every word you say.

You brush my hair behind my ear,
Kiss the top of my head.
I realize you still think I'm asleep,
As you hold me close to you in our bed.

I smile to myself.
Old wounds begin to seal shut,
Scar tissue holding strong.
My soul, though worn, no longer cut.

Falling into the warmth
Of the heart I know so well
Reminds me of the life we share
That I always tend to dwell.
storm siren Dec 2016
You took my heart right out of my chest
Like a knee to the stomach I often received
But will never forget.

You stomped on it and crushed it
Until all that was left was blood and shrapnel,
All because you lied and couldn't commit.

And then you came along and forced your way in,
It was easy and thoughtless and ******,
And according to all your friends, I had it coming.

Gas lighting and manipulating
Pushing me over the edge over and over and over
Throwing hissy fits when you left me and I started dating.

You use people like they're toys
And treat them like they're trash.
All I can remember is the low of your voice,
It's my most disdained noise.

It's hard to bring myself out of it,
Out of the screaming matches
And the cruelty and my lips being split.

But I know he'll never hurt me
Like either of you did.
Because he's not so beastly,
And I'm, for some reason, worthy
Of kindness and being treated gently.
And his love is setting me free
Of the shackles you both have placed on me.
1.1k · Dec 2016
Drip Drip Drop
storm siren Dec 2016
I only knew rain,
before I met you.

and when we were gone,
rain was all I knew

and I softened
at your smile.

my heart began to really beat
for the first time in awhile.

and while nothing held up for long,
no umbrella or teru teru bozu,

all I seemed to have needed
was to somehow be part of you.

and though the rain
seemed relentless,

you came along
and made the sunshine endless.
Kind of about Juvia Lockser and Gray Fullbuster from Fairy Tail, kind of about my husband and i.
1.1k · Sep 2016
i am different yet the same
storm siren Sep 2016
I am different from who i was
this time last year.
and I am different
from who I was
this time two years ago.

but there was a point in time
where I was this peaceful
this strong
this willing
to endure

and it was when I was a child,
no older than ten.
when we were children,
and I was one of your best friends.

you have this stubborn will
about you
and this determined air
that leaves me wanting desperately
to be something
for you to be
stubborn about.

I am not who I used to be
and yet I am the same
because I am still
shy and strong willed

but I will not be so weak
and I will not give in
and I will not allow
words of those with no meaning
to sliver and crawl under my skin.

I am yours,
finally.
as you are mine,
finally.

I have tried and failed
at loving others.
I will not give up when it comes to you,
so I desperately hope
to succeed.
He's wonderful, really. i love my Bluebird of Peace.
1.1k · Feb 2018
32 for 2018
storm siren Feb 2018
"Breathe,"
They call to me.

"Stay calm."
They whisper softly.

I can hear their tears
As they say,
"Remember to pray."*

And we should be angry.
We shouldn't be offering our sympathy
To the one that stole,
To the one that offered up his soul
For the taste of iron and gunpowder
For the taste of blood,
For the sake of leaving innocents
Six feet under tear-stained mud.

It isn't our weapons.
No, with the right morals and the right lessons,
It wouldn't be a problem.

It wasn't mental illness.
Trust me, please,
I know.
This is more than my business.

I know about trauma, I know about pain.
I know how it feels to have a curse become your name.

But we all have a choice,
We all make that decision,
For whether it will be our light or our dark that we choose to imprison.

He chose to use his pain,
To blend with his hatred.
He became his own darkness,
And that can never be forgiven.
1.1k · Oct 2017
It's Raining
storm siren Oct 2017
"It's raining."

My tears shed for you to stay
Only bounced off you, raining down on me in ricochet.
Now you hate me for not chasing you,
But what was I supposed to do?
I was too busy trying to wade through
All the blood
You let flood
My lungs,
And no matter how many times
My punctured heart begged for a bandage,
You just managed
To blame it on my damage,
And I believed you,
And that's what gave me the will to leave you.

"It's raining."

You always have a way of coming back,
My apologies as I let you back in becoming our soundtrack.

"It's raining."

What would you say?
What would you see?
If I told you "Don't stay,"
If I lied through my teeth:
"You meant nothing to me."

"It's raining."

Sometimes I worry about you,
Living this life without you,
And even though I don't believe the same,
I clasp my hands together, and speak His name.
I desperately call out to your God,
"Even if it's from abroad,
Keep her safe."
And the words rub into my bones,
Your words grate
My bones.
I'm not coming home,
So don't wait up,
Tricking me back with some apology you just made up.

"It's raining."

I sit up at night, hiding behind a paperback,
Greeting the night sky as an insomniac.
I never meant to hurt you,
But I'm never coming back.

"It's raining."

You hurt me,
But then he heard me.
And urged me
To love my injuries
Back to sanity,
And he turned me
Back to the me
You took without mercy,
Despite my desperate pleas.
But he held my hand and squeezed,
Told me I'm not a disease,
That it's safe now, I can come back to me.

"It's raining"

Instead, I came back to him,
Whoever I was when I was yours becoming a mere psuedonym.

"It's raining."

He brings me home from the other side,
Holding my hand through the longs nights,
While I learn to become our light.
He reminds me to stay alive,

It's raining.
1.1k · Aug 2016
Cheshire Grin
storm siren Aug 2016
I have a
Cheshire Grin.
Just as mad
Just as eerie.

I have a Cheshire Cat's Smile,
I'll coo to you in the wisps of your rage,
"Cool your jets."
And I'll explain how you need to keep
A level head
And all that jazz.

I have a
Cheshire Grin,
Because I am just as mad,
Just as eerie,
Just as innocent,
And just as deadly,
Within words and stories I spin,
And the webs I weave.

I am the
Mad Cheshire Cat,
For I am not a hatter,
No, nowhere near as cruel.

I am a Cheshire Cat,
Allow me to grin at you,
I am in all branches of the tree,
But in one spot,
All at once.

Feel the shiver down your spine,
As this the peculiar nature of this feline
Leaves you wondering,
Am I safe?
Am I sane?

Honey, in this world,
I am afraid
You are neither.
Mrowr.
storm siren Oct 2016
I was ten years old when I had my first crush.
I didn't think much of it. I just sort of assumed
That you should care for your best friend enough
That they were the person you wanted to reach for
When no one else was there.

I assumed that love was the type of thing
That you give freely and kindly.

But when he was lost to me,
Due to moves and my own issues,
I held on tight to those feelings,
And attempted time and time again to let go.

But I never felt anything
Since then.
No spark of affection,
No desire to get to know another
In that sense

And I faked a lot of things I shouldn't have.
I faked affection and I faked caring.

I faked being a normal teenager,
Because normal teenagers have crushes and think people are cute,
And recognize attraction and flirtation and actually want to go to dances
And hope that the cute boy will kiss them.

I faked it all.
Because I never felt a "crush", nor did I find anyone cute,
I didn't recognize attraction or flirtation, and I would have rather died than go to a dance.
And kissing I found to be disgusting, I would have rather chewed on rocks.

I thought I was broken. That I wasn't quite normal.
That there was something wrong with me for being so utterly repulsed
By *** and the like.

And in a vulnerable, broken state,
I mistook a bravado of kindness that hid selfish intentions,
For a chance to normalize myself again.
And I broke further,
Through every time I was yelled at,
Berated,
Controlled.
Told not to feel,
Not to react
Not to respond.

For so long, I thought I was broken
Because I cannot look at someone and find them anything more than
Somewhat aesthetically pleasing (if even that).
I cannot look at someone and see any potential
Sexually.

And upon being with you,
And clicking with the conversation,
And that first hug,
I realized I was not broken.
Rather I was a lock,
That needed the correct key,
But the key had been there
All along.
Different sexualities need to be talked about more, or else kids grow up thinking they're broken because they're not the norm.
1.1k · Feb 2017
Witching Hour
storm siren Feb 2017
Sometimes you open your eyes
And see nothing.
Sometimes you close your eyes
And it's all right there.

Sometimes my tarot cards all fold,
And my crystal ball fogs over.
Sometimes the runes don't read,
And the lines on your palms are just scars.

Sometimes the pendulum won't swing,
And the birds in the bottletree
Won't sing.

But the sky is violent red,
So maybe the sunlight
Will come again.

So lay your crystals
By the windowsill,
And light your candles
In your circle.

Wish and pray and wish and pray
But in the end
Fate is what you make it,
And no amount of darkness
Can black out my colors.
1.1k · Dec 2016
(Ir)Replaceable
storm siren Dec 2016
Humans like to think
Other humans are
Replaceable.
Humans like to think
That they themselves
Are not.

But let me let you in on a secret:
Everyone is either a lesson
Or a blessing.

No lesson can be replaced,
And neither can any blessing.

Because in some way,
They were necessary to make you who you are.

I was told recently
About a book.
"The Missing Piece" by Shel Silverstein.

The lesson I was given from this book,
Is that you can have all kinds of pieces!
Pieces that don't fit, pieces that would never fit,
And pieces that look like they should fit but don't at all.

So if you ever feel replaceable,
Remember you are someone's perfect missing piece.
You just have to sort out through all the not-so perfect pieces first.

And before I cut this off,
I should explain,
Your perfect piece is not perfect because it is perfect in the textbook definition of the word.
Your piece is perfect
Because you will be so completely perfect to someone (All your damage, broken parts, and scars too) that you will not need to be perfect, no.

You will just have to be you,
And that in itself
Is irreplaceable.
1.1k · Oct 2017
Don't.
storm siren Oct 2017
Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you hear it?

No?

Listen closer.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you feel it?

No?

Close your eyes.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Breathe in.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Breathe out.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you hear her voice?

Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you know what she's saying?

Drip
Drip
Drop

I don't think we should listen.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Did it just get colder?

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you hear it?

Drip
Drip
Drop

It's coming from the walls...

Drip
Drip
Drop

What? No, wait--

Drip
Drip
Drop

Is that..?

Drip
Drip
Drop

She's at the backdoor.

Drip
Drip
Drop

N-no, no please!

Drip
Drip
Drop

It's so quiet.

Drip
Drip
Drop

I think it's over.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Wait...

Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you hear it?

Drip

Drip

Drop
storm siren Nov 2016
Have you ever felt disposable?
Like you're only worth as much as you are useful,
And you're just not useful for that long?

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like you're great and all,
But if something better comes along
It's into the garbage you'll go?

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like you're wonderful and all that jazz,
But if the old thing starts working again,
Losing you is no great loss.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like every person before has thrown you away
Because you were lost, or just stopped working the way they wanted you to.
You weren't useful anymore, you weren't doing the thing they wanted you to do anymore.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because I have.
When every person that came before you
Threw me away like a broken toy,
Because they were spoiled frustrated children,
Throwing people away because they didn't work how they wanted them to.
Because I was a toy, I was not human.
And because I have feel disposable,
That means I'm afraid that at any second you could throw me away,
Even though you're not them, and they're not you,
And you're not like that at all.
Because when you look at me,
You see me as human.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because that means you've felt the fear that the person you love most will leave,
For one reason or another.
Whether it be entirely irrational or completely unfounded,
It means that every second that passes between the text message you've sent asking them "Are you leaving me?" and their response, feels like a knife to wrists,
Draining you of every drop of blood you could possible have or create
And you get cold, and the cold makes your joints stiff, and then the stiffness makes you ache and you're not only crying out of the fear and unnecessary anxiety, but you're crying because dear God, it hurts and you can't breathe because if you breath you'll sob and only cry harder.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because if you have you know that wearing his hoodie makes you feel wrong, because at any second he could decide to leave and if he leaves you'll never want to take it off because it's the closest thing to a hug from him you'll ever get again.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because after being disposed of, you start thinking all these terrible things because it's what you're used to.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Please just make it stop.
1.0k · Aug 2016
A sexless generation
storm siren Aug 2016
Judging the millennials
For not wanting to have ***
With everything that moves.

Don't you understand,
It's not because of technology
Or a lack of human contact
Or emotional behavior?

It's because we're working ourselves to bone,
And we're reading books in order to succeed,
And we're studying everything and anything
We can get our hands on.
And we want something meaningful,
Something real,
Something honest.

Don't get me wrong,
I'm sure it'll be something that's worth it,
When the time comes for us all,
But isn't it better that we build relationships
Based upon foundations of friendship and loyalty
And committed hopes and dreams,
Investing our lives and ourselves into the other person,
Than doing it like rabbits do?

I'd rather love someone
For who they are
And how they make me feel,
Than be infatuated
With their organs.

We have taken a lesson from our parents generation--
Relationships built upon *** and nothing else end in failure, shame, and disgust.

So please,
Take a lesson out of our book.

*** is probably better
When holding the persons hand
Excites you just as much
As holding an existential conversation with them.

Please remember,
Lust holds no power over love.
So very sick of shallow judgments.
storm siren Oct 2016
Lots of people say that
Frankenstein's monster, Adam,
Wasn't that bad.
He wasn't that evil.
He was just lonely
And misunderstood.

But does anyone cry for
Dracula?
Did anyone try to understand that he got turned into a monster,
And spent 200 or so years all by himself,
Slowly being driven mad
From loneliness and heartbreak?

And that he only did what he did,
Because it was the only way he knew how
To make the loneliness stop?
It was a last resort,
He wasn't trying to do anything wrong.
His intentions, though selfish,
Weren't bad.

And does anyone ever pray for Lucifer?
For the one sinner who needed it most?
Maybe if someone would reach out a hand,
Some forgiveness,
And some mercy,
It wouldn't be so bad.
We wouldn't have so much evil,
Because he'd rethink his ways,
After being given the chance
To once more be in a state of grace.

But no.
We can't,
Because we're told
They're evil,
They're wrong,
And they don't deserve
Forgiveness or mercy.

I would like to think
That even the worst
Kinds of people
Can change and be forgiven.
I might be wrong,
But I have a forgiving heart.
So let me forgive those
Who need it.

(You have a confessing heart,
So let me hear what you have to say,
And I promise I will take all that pain,
All that guilt away.)

But if God is all forgiving,
And all powerful,
Shouldn't he be able to forgive
His angel who needs it the most?
Hurray philosophy and introspective thinking!!
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