I’m tired of all the arguments,
Being all it’s doing is bringing me down,
Even if they don’t see it,
I need it,
The longing for love,
For a dove with a broken sole,
It cannot come from magic,
It cannot come from static,

I’m tired of always being put down,
You are supposed to have good sound,
Quit telling me I’m worthless,
That I’m nothing,
You say that you care,
But if you did you could see the tare that is in my heart,

You say that you are proud of me,
I can’t see it,
You tell me too many times that I’m a mess up,
Or to shut up,
So no I don’t see it,

You say that I’m needed in this world,
The world is doing perfectly fine without me,
I know that you don’t see my potential,
But I see what you don’t,
A broken sole just trying to live its life.


So, I created this story for one of my friends who is going through hell at home. Her parents treat her like garbage so, I created this to show her parents!

where were the living at
and how were they feeling?
what were they doing and
what were they thinking about
while I was spending those
dreadful days
in tiny rooms
alone,
at the foot of the bed,
with a bottle of whiskey
and my Converse shoes
tucked in the corner,
when the vines of nostalgia
were constricting my thoughts
and I was memorializing my childhood
like an ashtray,
putting out cigarette butts
on the bad memories
too often remembered?

I felt, as if, my purpose in life
was as important
as the mendacity
from the liars tongue.
misguided down a
directionless path,
left astray and forgotten about
like a drifter
playing the part of the rejected
and disassociated

shattering windows of opportunities by
burning through time and space and
jobs and women and ***** and drugs
and brain cells and miracles and
ideas and tenderness and
humanitarianism and morality
and conversations...
lots and lots of conversations,
wearing down my body, listlessly
like matchsticks to flame,

but auspiciously,
I found the lighter in writing,
sparking a new beginning and
regaining myself as I took the
wheel back from driving recklessly
through an impetuous
crash course of life

there’s no reason to tiptoe
around light sleepers and
walk on eggshells or
unbalanced tightropes
without the use of legs
in front of searing eyes
when it comes to writing,

writing is love being hustled
down the dead insides of
the dispassionate,

the unhappier the childhood
I’ve experienced
the funnier the comic book
I’ve illustrated

the more personal tragedy,
the better the writing

our minds at war
and writing is the peace

like watching
the robin and
the cardinal
fighting over
the worm,
as they slowly
pull it apart

You’re gone,
You’re gone
But you’re still here
You’re gone on the inside,
Rotting like a corpse in the sun,
You want to take a gun
And use it like a toy,
You want to **** yourself,
I get it, I really do,
But you need to stay strong,
Do it for your sister,
Your brother,
Mom and dad,
Aunt and uncle,
Do it for the people who care for you,
Do it for the people who love you with all their hearts,
Just hang in there,
Just a little longer!

"It wasnt the same as they describe it in the books.

Its not like watching a movie and getting teary-eyed because it connected with you in some way, shape or form.

There was a deeper sort of pain,beyond the physical spectrum.

A feeling they don't describe.
It was akin to those weird feelings you get while listening to music.

And Ill tell you this.
It wasnt easy to get over.

It didn't go away fast.

It HURT.....

It hurt every **** day."

i dont think you understand
there a demonic side to me
he lurks beneath the surface
just waiting to break free
i no longer trust myself
in making these decisions
these illusions call me out
shot me down with precision
and they're a perfect marksmen
shots only made by the best
and i'm hiding within myself
afraid of all the rest
tho this should make no sense
these shadows are my own
the perfect marksmen are false
images my mind has grown
yet here they stand
and somehow so real
seeing them spun me around
i dont know what to feel
i keep telling myself
everyone has this pain
but im faking this smile
and its really starting to wane
i force it till its back
thankful for all this
strength made from pain
hiding in the darkness