I've been sitting on this for a couple years now because I don't like writing short/phrasing poems especially because it's just not my style. I couldn't fit it into any poem or create anything around it and with December coming soon, I figured I might as well post it as it is.
Lay down this night Try not to fight Night terrors shepherd a blighted terror insight
Get through this flashing fright and wake up with another mental lashing akin to febral crashing
Every kid's born with a light And as kid the dreams gripped mine tight
Eye lids fall to sleep Fadeing into shades blacker than black Seamlessly brought back Seeing the dark move, coming closer to kiss my cheek Choking on fear I couldn't get out a peep Eye lids peeled and tacked on the tourtures rack
Afraid to see my family die I'd cover my face with invisible hands So much **** inside my brain I'm forced to watch as my sister's would fall and smear wherever it lands
How can a kid see so much when he sleeps?
Waking up afraid I would go to school unaware it was real life Feeling dissolved, broken, school was like chopping at a tree with a dull knife
Live my day and proceed to lay my head down Pillows and blankets comfort but cannot support the torture when my heads bound Tears in the eyes knowing the nightmares are always around knowing I'm not crazy as I feel voices with no sound
With the violent jerking, And battering of my heart, And my self-image, I have deteriorated. I don't want to look at myself for a second longer than it takes To put on my face in the morning, Because if I do, I will begin to poke and **** at my own flesh, Feeling as if I am going to upchuck every calorie I have consumed In the 15 years, and 120 days of my life. If I look at myself long enough, I am repulsed, And my day from that point on will be violently, Disruptively disordered. Everything I am forced to consume, Because of the need to hide my disastrous disorder, Will become disgusting, half-digested *****. And rottingly, I will feel pure, And vile, All at the same time.
There is no escape from yourself once you turn seven shades of blue
You can scream at death and brush away the leaves but your grave will always have a body that decieves even after being filled with sawdust and glue
Bound to anger and rebellion you struggled to let anyone in Bindings so tight, fingers turned black like that night Screaming, crying, attempted flailing You tried so hard to not give up the fight You succumbed to the blight
Your mom couldn't even recognize the cold leather bound over these bones that are told to be you Malnutrition claimed stake to the body Amphetamines numbed the mind and caused leishons to start rotting
No escape in death No escaping breath Hollowed head from a chest filled with ****
Your life shrunk, grew diseased and immature Beaten senseless and tied to the headboard Did you suffer? No one can say for sure
Buried with little more than the foegiviness of a closed casket and the permanantness of an abused life The only memento you'll carry on is the form fitted ligature marks and consciousness derived of strife