I don’t mean to cower at the hands that sustain Me.  
Old anger-cracked palms imprint my mind,  
And fear spreads quietly within me.  
With every touch, I falter at the warmth and Weight it holds—  
Afraid to break, yet too proud to fold.  

Deep inside, where biting fear and nipping Doubt reside,  
A fragile seed of trust begins to grow,  
But pain divides.  

In time, it could have blossomed into a Marigold,  
But the hands played God long before it could Unfold,  
Crushing the petals with a grip tired and cold,  
Snapping the roots, leaving no chance to hold.  

And yet the hands have been missing for years From my mind—  
Gone from their influence, awakened from their Lies.  
So what am I still afraid of?  
Why do I tremble when you bring your hands Close?  
Probably because I can’t tell if they are going to Caress my face  
Or tear at my throat.

My mind craves your name.
It seeks your likeness in an ocean of faces.
It hungers for the shape of your ink on my pages.
It reaches for your touch,
A phantom warmth that time never changes. Am I going crazy?
Seeking your ghost in crowded rooms.
Hating each echo unless it comes from you. Maybe I am crazy...
No,
That seems wrong,
Because to feel this deeply,
This must be where the love begun.
I do love you.
No,
That sounds wrong,
The wrong pretense,
The wrong song.
Maybe this is not love,
But obsession.
My brain's twisted form of false possession.
I can't escape it;
Everywhere I turn,
There is you.
My mind seeks it in everything I do.
Every breath I take is for you...
With or without your presence.
Have these feelings become a sinful confession? I thought that love was all I could allow,
Has obsession consumed me now?
Is this love or a twisted game?
I can't tell,
They feel the same.
I don't know who I am anymore.
In loving you,
I've lost myself somewhere.

Let me write of you,
My gentle verses, while bleeding-
Raw, voiceless goodbyes.

Something in me rots,
My hate has become nature,
I'm losing myself.

Love is taxation,
I learned from your silence:
An empty heart lives.

Who I have cried for,
Was a specter with no blood.
Tears wasted like rain.

Something in me grows;
My soul finds its will, choice.
I am what I need.

I don't ever know when to leave.
I never know the right time or
The right way to face it.
Leaving you would be like writing the story Halfway through and then tossing it.
That is why I need it to be you.
Please grab my pen and say it is the end,
Or I would never leave you.
I will stay rooted to this place,
Feeding the ghost of someone I knew.
I will always cling to that hope to the day you Drop the rope.
You don't understand how much I would Endure to feel your love,
Even for a fleeting moment,
But please cut our roots before you leave.
Make it painful,
Make it bruise,
**** it so I can't even feel you.
That pain will be the reminder that I lost you. Please butcher me,
because I could never do that to you.
Pour the gasoline,
Light the fuse,
So that it's the last moment I see of you.
Because if I don't feel the burn
And see the hate,
I will sit here and wait
Until you love me again.
Please make me hate you
So I can stop loving you.
A clean break,
Though it may scar,
Is what I need,
Or it will prolong the weakest parts of me.
And yet the gasoline was poured
Without my voice ever rising.
The flames engulfing our memories,
Their ghostly dance now mesmerizing.
No whispered goodbyes,
No lingering touch,
Just the searing cut.
In the ashes, a truth;
I'm finally,
Undeniably,
Free from you.
Though the pain will linger
As a haunting memory,
I will find my peace
Without you next to me.

There are only so many truths
I can write.
Only so much creativity
Until it runs dry.
How much longer
till my hand reaches the blade?
How much more
Cathartic writing can finally
Keep my mind at bay?
I try to remember
When a busy mind controls a steady hand,
I should be mindful of the tools I put in it,
But I am only so strong.
I hate to admit it.
And yet,
Even now,
I continue to write.
My hand reaches for the pen
And rejects the knife.
Each line is a release,
A release of the pain my mind holds deep.
But there are only so many pages to fill,
Only so much ink to bleed.
One day,
The well will run dry,
And I will plead with myself,
But the page will remain blank,
And my mind will greet the knife
Like it had never left.
A silent surrender
That the scars
Will never let me forget,
And if the words don't come,
Will the blade be the next to speak again?
When words fail,
I will try to seek a different light.

My whole life,
I have been living within
The limitations.
A paint by the number,
No alterations.
My life,
Stunted
By the ones I loved.
Silence and obedience,
Their only form of love.
They made that truth
Run deep in my blood.
For in the silence,
They could prey
On my innocent love.
Mum's the only phrase
To keep their monsters at bay.
So I stayed silent.
I stayed compliant.
For years,
I found solace in the quiet.
And yet slowly
My courage peeked its head,
Became one with the paper,
And my story not only wept,
It bled.
It bled the truth,
With the words from my pen.
Unlimited by words,
I began.
I wrote of all my pain,
All the hate.
I wrote of my secret loves
And greatest shames.
With the pen I am a giant.
No reason to hide it.
With my words,
I become unlimited.
With my words,
A new world can begin.
A world of my own
Where the silence ends
And my life begins.

Frozen.
Frozen, and yet I am still moving.
Moving at 100 miles per hour,
And yet my body is entirely
Static.
My eyes fixed forward,
Unmoving, unblinking,
Watering from the thoughts
Racing and pacing
In my mind.
Frantic,
All of the panic
Going to my throat.
My breathing constricted,
My lungs restricted.
Is this the proper way to cope?
Breathe in.
Hold.
Breathe out.
Hold.
Just do as you are told
And breathe.
Breathing would be easier
If it did not cause so much pain.
Just another reminder
That my mind may be
A gilded cage,
But it is still a chain.
I can't escape.
I am just an echo in a cage.

There is a melody in the
Ripping, splitting, snipping
Of my words on the page.

Constantly vying, trying
To convey the way I feel
Inside the cage.

Breathe slow
Don't let go
Hold it in so you don't break.

Swallow that bile down
Don't let the thoughts win now
Rebel against the cage.

This is not weak
Move past this peak
Keep the word ***** on this page.

Break the cycle
Break the chain
Your strength within will reign
Over the thoughts in your mind.

And the only thing bleeding
Will be the ink on this page.
The cycle must not start again
Rebel against the pain.

When the raging tempest within my heart calms and the tides return my peace of mind, may my love forgive my transgressions.
For I have hated and lied, but worst of all, I have loved.
A consuming morbid type of love that leaves scars and extinguishes the very essence of my being.
It was a love that could bring down empires to a crumble and rot.
The type of love that causes unconditional and mindless bliss, a love so potent that I didn't see the insidious poison it carried within.
May the salve of time heal my broken mind and **** the viper that dared to live, or my love, may I just return to the waves from which I lived.
Within the riptide may I end the cycle of deceit and find solace in the storms eye.

I have always wondered what is the purest form of love.
Whether it is the poet's unrequited love in their ballads or the artist's muse who lingers from afar.
Or is it the voice that laments things that could never be?
What has become my truth, which was once my ruination, is that the purest form of love is the illusion of importance in their life.
For my value is but a grain of salt, but you, my dear, were once the vast ocean, now run dry.
My perfect ruin was my own mind.
How poetic.

Born to be brilliant but molded to be subservient.
Oh, glassmith, grant me just one respite from your toneless teachings.
My temperament may be ever-changing, but I deplore the mold you meticulously sculpted.
Oh, glassmith, I implore you to reshape the inferno you cast.
What was the point?
All of those years of hiding, silence, and hate. All of those years of trial by fire and words of ice.
Was all of this in the name of transformation? Well, congrats, you did more than change me. You broke me.
Oh friend, teacher, mother, glassmith, father, executioner, are you happy now?
Have you finally found peace in knowing you have broken my spirit and mind in the process?
Most would think the story would be over, but the pieces are broken not gone.
You still go on living, fractured and tarnished, longing to be whole.
What people don't tend to see is the dust collecting on my face, dust standing still, year after year.
Not being able to move or imagine picking up the pieces of myself that are long lost.
And yet I hope.
I hope that someday I can find the strength in me to outline the broken with the gold hidden within me.
The hope to embrace my flaws and scars.
But until then, I will continue to hope and dream of my imperfect peace.
Oh, spirit, I loved you.

My mercy may prevail over my wrath
But my humility fails to conquer my pride.
With patience, may my heart be kind and my mind heal over time.
Yet as more time passes and the betrayal of my friends remain engraved,
My trust begins to dwindle and, darling, you are to blame.

Too you, I was always less
Even when I tried my hardest
I was breaking from carrying the weight
My knees and hands burning from crawling to you.
Why is it
That even now
When my heart is utterly shattered
My thoughts betray me
By picturing you.
But for some unknown reason I still find myself falling for you.

Loving you is like
A man thirsting for wine straight
From the vine, hopeless.

You cover my skin in red paint
Each time you scream my name.
They paint my skin green
whilst they mock me.
He throws handfuls of black
On my back for each blow, he ever gave me.
My body is no longer my own canvas,
Society chose to paint over my masterpiece.
At the end of the day, looking in the mirror
I pity the stranger who stares back at me.
The paint won't come off no matter how hard I scrub.
Digging under the paint and tearing skin with it to make my body my own again.
The blood.
It creeps down my skin and drips onto the floor.
What a beautiful shade of red.
It's not like the fiery red of anger but like a freshly cut rose or an unearthed ruby.
This is the color that has been hiding beneath me.
Beneath the facades and the frills of society.
My body is burning from the revisions and my mind is racing with my own potential. This will be a lovely new addition to this canvas.
The pain is worth it.
Society must see the beauty hidden beneath.

Was it all a lie?
All of the memories and all of the moments we shared.
Do you think they ever cared?
Or was I just the unloved child who they never wished to be there?
Everything hurts.
Even when I close my eyes the memories don't escape me.
You would never understand how I feel because it is like I am being forgotten.
Like a transparent page you can not see unless you look harder.
My mind races each night before I go to sleep because I dare think
you my love
will forget me.

Starving and overeating, and yet I drink up every curse spoken to me,
The probing and the preening cause me to overthink that love has no meaning.
It is empty.
Cry baby, cry, I will give you a reason to cry. Blows landing on my back making me want to die.
My "mother's love" ain't how it is supposed to be. The hate in her eyes are all that she gave to me.
This baby bird, for too long, yearns to fly,
but the chains on its back prevents it to try.
Noose around its neck till it grows old and dies, but even then the expectations still hold in mother's eyes.
Cry baby, cry, you have no reason to cry.
I don't care if your heart is slowly breaking inside.
My "father's pride" may cause the death of me. The truth of the matter is that he never wanted me.
"That's why we had kids."
What to be your little slaves?
"Clean the house, wash the floors, no you can't go play!"
"What did you say? Are you talking back?"
Trying to hide my tears while my sister watches, so my sister can see that I may be bruised, beaten, and bleeding
But my spirit never faltered.

Enduring this for years can really wreak your life.
Sitting in hiding, if I am out of sight then I am out of mind.
Slowly, the body becomes a lifeless shell, and yet my heart still burns in the hells.
Everyday is the same, nothing every changes
If I try to speak my mind then I am told
"I will beat your face in"
" I won't care if you die, if you try to break this family up"
The words out of his mouth is something I had never even thought of.
Despite the abuse of so many years, I still find a place in my heart that truly does care.
Even in the end I don't understand how my brain works.
I guess masochism is my only good trait in the end.

Is it too late?
I had been praying that you could hear my story from my lips.
The only tale you heard was that of a villain, but the truth is bittersweet.
I hope that on your deathbed, you heard my story in prayer so you can rest, hating me less than you did in life.
If you could not find it in your heart to forgive me, know that I love you still.
Love, your niece.

I have sinned for far too long in your name and yet your heart has a delicious taste.
It is like the sweet core of an apple gone rotten.
Once a guilty pleasure that lit my soul aflame, but time revealed that my trust was misplaced.
A bitter pill to swallow, but will never be forgotten.
My love for you will never be the same.
My poisoned slice of heaven,
You are to blame.

The flock has always loathed me for the shortcomings I attained from their scorn.
Yet during their retribution, I only grinned.
They were too busy painting me in black, that they ignored the wolf hiding amongst them.
Luckily for me, the wolf will dine upon them while I blend into the shades of the moonlight.
Oh pity for the ignorant collective of the flock.

How unconditioned our love used to be,  
but you made a habit of drinking poison while you sleep.
Now death holds you accountable for your sins
While six feet below maggots feast on your decaying skin.
I was once a slave to my lover's every whim,
but time has an endless pool for me to swim.
As days go by I replenish the black dahlias on your grave and a lover's remorse is something I do not crave.
Betrayal of trust and fiery rage
Your body now lies in a wooden cage.
If I had one last dance in your embrace
My very soul might begin to break.  
Before my insanity slips back to stability,
I remember how death did seem so desirable on your lips.

I am ephemeral yet eternal.

Drowning in my own insanity and emptiness,
Yet there is a sense of banality as my soul spirals in the waves.

Enraged and imprisoned amongst the tide
My body now imprisoned by fleeing time.
The crashing waves tearing flesh from bone, And the tide carrying my tortured soul.
My body forgotten along the shore,
Returning to the elements where I was once Born.

Blood to Earth, my debt has been repayed.
In the afterglow my bones now lay.
Forgotten, buried in the sand.
      
   Am I eternal or ephemeral?
        
I am just a man.

So yea it's been a while,
I guess I forgot all of the things that used to make me smile.
maybe that is destructive on my part but everything I loved will eventually break my heart.
so yea I gave up
because I rather have never loved at all and
forget this pain.
the pain that will not leave my heart or brain.
so yea
...
I give up.

The putrid flesh from its skin gleamed so brightly in the darkness.
Advancing, with the smell of barbarity on its tongue,
The creature stared with pearl eyes.
It seemed to grin at a thought in its head, almost like it had heard a joke,
Which revealed glass-like teeth with jagged edges.
The monster stood in silence.
It did not move for what seemed like an eternity.
It did nothing.

CRACK!!

A horrid sound came from the creature.
It broke every single bone in its body and shaped into a
Crouching position.
The creature crawled under the bed and waited for me to look under.
I looked under the bed and saw its eyes looking straight into my soul.
It spoke finally and only repeated one word.

" homee..."

I guess I made this false allusion that everyone i love was a part of me.
I feel like a puzzle that is losing pieces everyday. The cruel reality is
that there was never a puzzle to begin with.

There was just one lonely puzzle piece...

Everyone's life is a tragedy...
It just depends on when the play ends.

How sad and tragic is mans pride and ambitions.

"Curtains rise"

Time to begin the act of your life.

When beauty is plucked from the roots
Originality drains from the veins.
Those with no sight of the world
Have no right to speak out.
Diversity is the only boundary to
The peace on Mother Earth.

Only when people learn
Will they be free.

Woe is Humanity!!

You may think that you are punishing me,
But that is just a ploy.
You see the one who is getting tricked is you.
I am just a second-hand smoker.

You can tell me to roll thirty addictive shells,
But I am not the one who is going to indulge in them.
You can smoke thirty a day.
I am not the one who is rotting away.

You can smoke the venom until they fill your veins,
But I am not the one who will die in less than ten years.

I will watch your teeth rot.
I will watch your lung fill with tar.
I will watch you until your last dying breath.

I do not know why, but there is something
Therapeutic about watching the smoke
Seep from your yellow teeth.

A Utopian world is a prediction made by hobos
On streets holding "the end is nigh" signs and preaching the faults of humans.
This prophecy will only be fulfilled, when the sun dies out,
Our world collides with the moon,
Inevitably causing a game of pool among the elite and impotent gods.

Love is a parasite,
You never know you have it until
It multiplies.
The symptoms of this bug are:
Irregular pulse, sweaty palms, butterflies in your stomach and
The lose of attention for the norms.
Your eyes will only be on your "true love."

But do not threat.
The parasite will pass out of your system
Once you realize the cruel reality
That has been passed down from many of your school mates;
No one will ever love you.

In my own little world fireflies stay in open jars
Flowers paint on their colors for the next day,
And the moon laughs while it walks away.
The trees speak of ancient scars,
The creek brings up lost trinkets from afar,
And the animals cry for freedom,
But freedom is not free.