Speak out you mind
almost like you're flowing back in time,
to where this all began
but, would you change it in the end?

.
The moon, beams over the planted fields,
Growing blades shimmer, slicing the night
As fiery comets first seeded the earth,
Beads light, to life-giving grains of rice.

That one thing i craved for..
Only you didn't know
Always on my mind
a drug, poisoning me
A sick addiction
Cutting me off from reality

Each time you pulled me closer
Each time i felt you better
Each time you treaded me more the way i wished for
A one night stand
But the day after i didn't exist anymore

The torture of being nothing
Nothing more than a pleasure
Just a toy, what could i do
Everything was fine with me
As long as i could see you

Never an explanation
Till the day we got together
You cherished me
Like a wolf in sheep skin
And i, the sheep, was trapped
As you kissed my neck
Calling me 'his girl'

You told me you love me
You told me you're afraid i'll leave
You told me you're a selfish man
You told me you're struggling with yourself
The voices, they keep talking to you
I know you're scared
But i love you too.

Now we're here
There's nothing left
No tensity just insanity
You're The razor on my wrist
But the cuts relieve the pain
My biggest mistake but yet my happiness

Afraid to lose you
Pretending I'm fine
Exhausted of waiting
Too Scared to stand up
craving for your attention
waiting patiently till it's my time

You pull me closer to the edge
Pushing me further away from you
Just A tread saving me from the abyss
It's like waiting for the end
Wondering what you're holding behind your back.

Preparing for another day
Closing my eyes as a tear slips through my lashes
Wetting my pillow
Leaving a black stain
Trying to sleep, my thoughts keep me awake.

As i wrap my hands around your neck, holding my breath
Counting to three...
The razor cuts me again
So relieving, but still feels so wrong
I love you and With knives in my heart
I decide to give you one more chance
The last chance

Like i gave yesterday...

It all started when I was four
and it came with boys holding buttercups beneath girl's chins
and chasing in endless circles
and my skirt was a little too long
and my face was a little too round
to chase them too

I started sitting indoors and painting scenes
'cause I couldn't run like the other girls could
but four year old boys don't like brushes and  blue skies
they like little girls with flushed rosy cheeks

And when I was six
I couldn't sit inside anymore
it was time to go out and face the boys that called me fat
and try to be a rosy cheeked little girl too
but I just got flustered when I heard the laughter

But at least kids are honest
and I knew I was not wanted

By the time I reached nine
I kept my eyes glued to the ground
when I stood with my mother and listened
to my grandfather drop poison into her ears
and told her that her daughter was a monster
and that's why I didn't cry at his funeral

But at least he was honest
and I knew I was not wanted

Things changed when I turned eleven
self-loathing stayed the same
but the new boys were all skinny compared to me
and they did not hesitate to point it out
although quietly
and subtly
more awash with gasps from choking back revolting laughter
that got caught in the back of my throat and turned to tears
I never did cry in public

And the way I walked through the halls was a carefully crafted way
to make myself smaller
but they still plucked me out and told me
'You're so pretty'
(laced with sarcasm)
'Be my girlfriend'
(prolonged by a smirk)
I always kept my mouth shut

And at least kids are honest
at least I always knew I was not wanted

By age fifteen I was so obsessed with mirrors
that I carried one in my hand at all times
I'd tried every makeup technique I could find
and my mother was sad that my blonde curls were gone
now straight and brown to fade into the background
I never knew why this attracted boys
but for once I was glad I looked like everybody else

I was hearing 'you're so pretty' with a genuine tone
from boys who flirted for fun
but I didn't understand
and I thought I was special
and I thought I would marry every one who called me pretty
and we'd have three children and a dog

What I didn't understand was why every night ended with tears
because I was finally feeling the way all the rosy-cheeked girls did
but maybe it was because kids are honest
I preferred to know when I wasn't really wanted

When I was 16 I felt like a woman
because I'd had a history with boys who were *******
and this is how I thought womanhood should be
every night I rubbed three years of makeup from my face
and removed my push-up bra
and said goodnight to the boy that made my heart skip
and woke up the next morning knowing I would be ignored

I wished people would just be honest

At seventeen, I fell in love with a man
who called me his little girl
and made me feel like the rosy cheeked child
I always watched and envied
I fell in love with the way he threatened to leave me when I forgot something
and the way he slapped me
and I fell in love with how he taught me that it was okay for me to be *****
in every sense of the word
because I was the tiny little girl
with the skirt just short enough
and the cheeks just red enough
to be wanted

Whatever happened to the moments
we lived for
the moments we lived from
electrifying lives
currents of passion
high voltage that knew no resistance

what do I have to do?
to feel the surge
to feel the spark
to feel alive again?

Is it in the tomes?
Is it in the songs?
Do the muses hold it in the walls?
Is it inside of me?

Searching for the switch
to send me back to passion
To make me feel charged again
to make me feel in charge again

they don't like you, I don't like you
I hate you too much to end this
I'd do things just to spite you
that's why you're on my friends list