you are trying too hard
you are not worth enough
"you worthless human being,SHUT UP!"
do not tell them what you think
tell them what they want to hear
wear something nice
not that skirt that shows your thigh
maybe then you could be one of them
"oups i'm Sorry,did i Hurt you? "
you told me while ripping my heart from my insides
and then you came near by my side,and whispered
"you could never be enough,you are not one of us.Sensibility is for the fools,Darling.Don't you think? "
But it was too late.I had already left my feelings at home.

today was the day that
the blade met the prey
touched the skin
****** the grief
tears running down
the street
loud voices in the abyss
that's the so called mind
screaming "you were too Weak
to win us all".counting down all your Faults
one,two,three and the list goes on
until the last droop of Blood

am i going to survive this alone?

jumbled thoughts
fogged minds
shattered hearts
in emty shells
waiting to be released
in the ethereal numbness
of this world
and if i wanted to feel,would i still be lost?

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.