this quiet misery is my paradise, whispers my sick head. I want to believe its sweet, passionate lies my head talks with a voice dripping with conviction it swims and encircles me in its snares my heart feeds in on itself and reprimands the body for falling out of line until the final piece collapses and the soul is set free in whatever way it chooses
You're beautiful to me Not because of something I see
Because you are broken. All over. Cracks in your plaster cast from tip to foot So I can see the light within you That shines so dimly in you
All you can see is that dry plaster breaking and snapping before your very eyes it haunts you so you begin to tear tear at the mold piece by piece ripping the edges off of who you are scratching the skin you can't bear that weight any longer
You've tried to tape them together Many times before Nothing ever worked
No slapstick paste was strong enough to put you back in place
So this is why I love you Because you are shattered so When I hold you in my arms My skin begins to glow
Those broken pieces fit in my hand like tiny grains of sand Your warmth is not lost on me You are worth more than you know
Life has its ups and downs That is what makes it beautiful
Like the way a line of ink swoops down and up to form a letter in a poem that stirs a feeling out of a girl in a room somewhere where no one is looking
the elegance only appears when the observer values the peaks and crests equally
Life has its ups and downs Good moments and Bad moments and this is one of them and it is beautiful
Why choose this Why do I go through the motions every **** day Why can’t I help not wanting to rise Or fall It is in my nature to avoid those perils And those joys
Take the first step, I say Move one muscle in the right direction But right and left and wrong are relative And I Have wasted another hour Blindly switching between the mundane and the dead
I shut my eyes and inhale Trying to find the inner goddess The warrior, the princess The one who is inspiring and magical at her core
Instead, I see me I find an empty chest that is twisted with anxiety I find a tired body from ripping myself away I find a mind begging to be silent I find a heart longing to be free
I stop for a moment.
I no longer am plastering pieces together to form a goddess. I can see that I am nothing near to a princess Not an inspiration or a songbird in the breeze My heart is tugged downward by weights
What am I feeling? It buried so far beneath the surface I am not sure I will ever see It is nonexistent, untraceable A hollowness envelops me
My hands tingle with a sense I have not felt. Eyelids flutter at a wink of eternity. The hope is excruciating. I am Bewitched by the perplexing enigma to ensue.
My soul is a drop on one of Monet's paintings at the Mueso d'Orsay My soul is a fresh shower My soul is that connection I develop with new people and characters My soul is tied to everything in the universe and nothing at all.