Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Carly jo Jan 10
What was light rain is now the start of a cold and fearful storm.

The heavy downpour of water
Drenching my long dark hair
And making it stick to my cold freckled cheeks.

The rain hitting the pavement like the shattering of breaking glass.
The melody of a broken heart.

Desperately seeking the calm and steadiness of my melonchaly thoughts I
grow nearer to my home.

I’m not prepared for the war on the other side of the door.
The knocking of an egotistical battle.
Throwing hate like cold stones.
Tearing apart each other’s flesh to see who can cut the deepest.

Im weaping quietly because I start to
Forget what it is I’m fighting for.

When did our heaven become our hell?
Carly jo Dec 2018
Sometimes a hopeful melody can be the sound of regret.
Waking up with battle wounds i cant quite rememeber.
He loves me.
He doesnt want to let me go.
Because he loves me.
The walls of a castle crumbling around me on soiled terrain.
Are weeds flowers or just a growth?
It grows so thick it chokes my mind and covers my mouth.
like ivy sticking to my innocence i begin to wonder is this my new playground?
glass shattering, hearts pounding, memories fading.
He loves me.
  Dec 2018 Carly jo
the wounds from her soul were the ones which healed her mind.
Carly jo Aug 2018
Do you believe In fate
Or is everything just strung together like a series of mistakes on a thread.
I’m happy now
That’s what I keep repeating to the reflection in the mirror.
What a stupid broad word.
This digital world we live in. Where our only memories live in our phones. Mindless.
Meanwhile we’re killing each other over our complexion.
My person asks me why I cry so much and all I respond with is why wouldn’t I.
Everything hurts and I don’t know how to bandage myself.
Am I even healing if I’m just covering it all up?
I miss writing with a pencil or a pen scribbling all my thoughts and mishaps.
Now when We feel things we post  something to covey even the littlest amount of emotion.
A picture is worth a thousand words. But what are our words worth?

— The End —