Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
torrey Mar 2015
Does death have to be a tragedy?
Or is everyone just scared of the inevitable?
It's something we're all destined for, irrevocable
Forced to face the reality
That everything you see,
Everything you feel
Will one day be gone
All your friends, all your lovers
All you sisters, all your brothers
Will one day meet they're fate
Nobody knows when it's their date
But there's a beauty in saying goodbye
There's an elegance in the way we all
Leave this earth
Since the day of our birth
Our fate has always been sealed
Someday day never to be healed
Doomed to this impending mystique
Each way different, each way unique
Some see it coming, some never had a clue
Death has always been such a flirt
We'll all become fertilizer for the dirt
Just bones and some loose hairs
So count your blessings and say your prayers
Because death will never leave you
It doesn't forget about anyone
Believe me it never does
Death doesn't judge or discriminate
We'll all soon disintegrate
It's something we all have in common
Shouldn't that be comforting,
To end all the suffering?
We all will face it
But only few welcome it
We're all lost in this
Mad, mad, mad world
Wishing we were somewhere else
Wishing we had something else
So when we take our last breath
When we say our final words
We're forced to realize
We spent our whole life
*Wishing we were someone else
torrey Feb 2015
The interiors of my brain feel like they're eroding away,
The person I once was has surely slipped away
Like my mind has sped up and there's no time to catch up
Each thought just a string of knots
Only to be undone one by one
Round after round
Knot after knot
No empathy for my own brain
If it's even worthy of said name
Only ever able to get the knots loose
Thoughts of using them as my own noose
Why everything I once knew all became fairy tales
All the stories, all the couples
All the glimmer, all the sparkle
Now filled with truth
We all swallowed the pill, silly youth
Everyone always wore a pokerface
For that I'd have you to thank
I've always had to learn all this, the hard way
Too young to comprehend
All I did was observe and eventually I would begin to understand
Not everything you see, is always what you are to believe
And not everything that you've heard,
Is to always be perceived so absurd
I sought truth behind every lie
Just wanted to find some sort of understanding as to why
But still I've found everything's too foggy for me to distinguish
Like a piece of me is always missing
Afraid to keep digging, afraid to look around
Afraid I'll find nothing, as if I'm empty and 6 feet underground
Afraid to feel anything other than disappointment and sadness
Everything is always expected, never any madness
Love, is always to become faded
Raw emotion is often tainted
Will leave you missing and wishing
For someone or something that once was
Always settling for anything capable of forgetting or sufficing
It's as though me and fate have always been kissing
Except fate was never on my side
*And oh how love could always be so blind
My undiscovered thoughts at 3 am
torrey Feb 2015
I've rubbed my skin raw,
To diminish all the stains
Your kisses used to leave
Me in awe
Now all I want is for them to be gone

I was a frivolous pawn
You'd use as you'd go
You'd play me when the time was right
It was only a game,
Black or white

Then one day you made a mistake
You played a blunder
You lost your game,
I stole your thunder

You were a catalyst of sorts
Always playing the pawns
Feelings never contort

But I've won this round
The queen is to be crowned
Now this time
You'll be kissing *my ground
torrey Feb 2015
Art
Is this what it's like to be a poet?
To taste every goodbye, to feel every moment?
To feel every detail, to see every flaw?
To kiss every star as the night starts to fall
To fall in love with the way the sunsets
To dream of the birds from dusk to dawn

Is this what it's like to be a painter?
To find it captivating the way the earth moves
Mesmerized by your very own torment
Never caring if anyone else approves
Ingenious, stamped across your forehead

Is this what it's like to be an artist?
To find beauty in the pain that transcends
From the demonized garden growing within?
To find something alluring in the way
*People walk away
torrey Feb 2015
She lived down Hidden Valley Lane
Where nothing was ever hidden,
Always filled with shame
He'd raise his hand,
voice,
and drink
All because he didn't agree
She was scared,
Always alone
Playing on her swingset
Watching the birds roam
At night she could never sleep
Lay her head down
and the demons start to creep
Nightmare after nightmare
He was all she could see
Nobody believed
The monster he could be
Blinded by the past and their lies
Evil living inside
She lived down Hidden Valley Lane
Where everything was always hidden
and the demons ate her away
torrey Feb 2015
What if all the pretty words
we wrote for other people,
We wrote for ourselves?
What if we romanticized about
our own flaws,
Instead of those who shouldn't be
romanticized at all?
What if we wrote our own love letters,
Filled with all our treasures?
Could you write of your own pleasures?
A love poem to yourself
All that you've seen,
All that you've felt
Your freckles, the crinkle by your eye
Your laugh when you're high
The way you sing in the car
All your dreams to somewhere far
Could you find the beauty,
In all the small things?
Do you even feel the orchids
growing within?
No more 'I'm sorry's'
No more sin
I know it's so hard to see,
All that's inside you.
*If only you knew
Orchids mean delicate beauty
torrey Jan 2015
I'll pull, pull you close until you can't breathe
I'll watch you lose your mind trying to seize
I'll push, push you until you're lost with no means
Finding me only in your dreams
You caught a glimpse of my heart
Why, oh why have I gone this far?
You pulled, pulled me apart until
All that was left were my uncontrollable thoughts
You pushed, pushed me until I was gone
Leaving me only with memories that only haunt
Too scared to stop, too scared to let go
Running infinite circles
Planting daises along our broke road
There she waits with a rose in her hand
But the other around your neck
Surprised and relieved
Hers was all he'll ever be
I dug up our daises and gave them to her instead
"To you and your addicted lover"
And away she led
Atelophobia-the fear of imperfection. The fear of never being good enough
Next page