It hits in a spiritual, delirious way
the taste of blood is the only reminder
of how much I enjoy the pain

I crashed the car and I lived
I roamed the highway searching for your ghost
only to find it moved on long ago

We travelled 500 miles in this chase
for euphoria; the few signs on the way
urging us to follow separate paths

You're gone and I'm trapped
within this memory, a period of stasis
Cursing the alleged 'free road'
that brought us to this standstill.

(You never were one to take a risk,
always pausing to play it safe)

These selfish lights refuse to shift
throwing us back to different ends
of the spectrum once again

Yet I'm pulsing red, devilish hues
for you for you for you

If I could, I would crash all over again
But your lips are the only collision I need
and I was never one to wear a seat-belt

I wonder if like a storm you are
unaware of the damage you inflict.
Flooding these walls with screams,
shattering the fragility of our home.

I assume you are too caught up
within your own struggles to break free.
The wrath of your thoughts and those
calculating fingers rake your flesh.

Etching violent artistry's to your soulless
voids. Little needles which pin-***** at
the dark corners of your mind; awakening
the dormant cruelty sheltered within.

It is only through the cusp of night that
apologies emerge as you feign delicacy.
Your liquid skies fade to hellish hues as
you tell me not to lust after hurricanes.

You learn a lot from what people write

You learn about them
You learn about the world
And even yourself

You're in a crowded room
But no one notices you're there
You are surrounded by friends
But most of them dont care
You know a lot of people
But meaningful talks are rare

Its like being invisible
Its like being ignored by everyone all at once
Like screaming but nothing seems to come out

But its okay
Because we all have to realize that only very few people will be there for us till the end and as long as you've got them you'll be okay ❤

She had the face of a doll
She had the body of a dancer
She had sunkissed skin and deep brown eyes as though she saw through layers of rich chocolate

She was as delicate as fine China
She was as kind as a sweet old lady
She was very young though, too young to be as beautiful as she was

The prettiest flowers are always picked first
By picked we don't understand that this means ripping the flower away from the earth and taking its life away too

And even at such a young age she was definately picked
She was bullied
She was abused
And with each insult and each rumour a wall was slowly built
Brick by brick
Her kindness quickly faded away
For how else was she supposed to protect herself



And they wonder why the prettiest are the meanest.