Sometimes i feel like my life is controlled by a substance so powerful that if i tried to fight it, it would be like tying a rope around my neck and pulling it until i collapse onto the ground. Have you ever felt as if your life isn’t yours? Well, that’s how i feel 99% of the time. I feel like I’m living for someone else but not myself. I wake myself up for someone else every morning just to walk into someone else’s building to sit at someone’s else’s computer and type someone else’s words. My life isn’t really mine. Don’t get me wrong, the words I’m typing now is my words but maybe that’s why they’re so inappropriate. Maybe my words are so inappropriate that there’s no way i could ever type my own words. I need help but i wouldn’t dare ask for it. I feel alone surrounded by hundreds of people. Is that normal? Is it normal to feel alone whenever I’m out with my friends? Maybe i should try to fight this substance. They will call it suicide but I’ll call it death on arrival because i didnt choose to come into this world and i didn’t choose to leave it. Someone else chose it for me. Someone else will say that i had a lot of issues but what someone else doesn’t know is that someone else is the cause of my issues. Someone else said that I could never survive someone else’s world but what if i never had a chance at surviving either. Someone else had a good chance at surviving but blew someone else’s brain onto the concrete just so someone else would take them out of this world. Someone else cried when someone else left but would someone else cry if i leave? Would someone else come to my rescue because someone else promised me they would save me?
  Feb 10 ashtonbrehite
To My Lover,
my one and always;
the dance hall is empty without
our swing.
Come back to me, darling,
Let us waltz the halls again,
without a care in the world,
except for the fear of stepping on
our toes.

I've loved you since our first touch,
and since then, you have had
my heart in your cold hands,
let me warm them...
come and dance with me.
I want my arms around your waist.

Your hands on my neck.
Chivalry isn't dead.

ashtonbrehite Feb 10
Well hello my love, here I am wandering in your notes, in your files too feel close too you again. Too try too feel what you felt, and cry like you cried. I am here tonight too embrace the grace of your words & read not only with my eyes but too understand with my heart, that you. Oh my god, you are extravagant in every little way there is and like hair particles you've stuck too me, you've always been there even when I tried to force you away you've always been there like my best friend in the 4th grade. Tonight, tonight I want too tell you how love is so easily taken for granted. How it is forced upon then suddenly taken away, oh my God have mercy on my soul because if he said you weren't the one I'd swear he was lying. I swear he'd be lying if this wasn't love, because without this love there wouldn't be an us then I'd be forced too spell us without you. I'd swear he was lying because we held hands like field trips and we fought like sisters. I swear he was lying because there were days we laughed so hard only our hearts heard our voices because our mouths didn't make a sound. And I knew he was lying for how We cried like babies because we knew our love was wrong in the eyes of the right wing conservatives but if it was so wrong then why doesn't anyone else feel right in my arms like you do? if our love is a decision then just let me kiss your lips now like it was the first time I've ever touched them with mine, I promise I'll pay for my sins later, oh my god have mercy on me for the man of my dreams is a woman.
em>Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
ashtonbrehite Feb 10
i see the cuts on her arms and i wonder what kind of place she was in.. i wonder about her exact feelings/emotions at that moment. i can’t help but wonder who would hurt her to the point where she had to let some of the hurt out.. with a blade.. through her scars.. through her blood.. dripping. i wonder what it felt like when the blade touched her skin.. i wonder what was running through her mind or even if she wanted to die at that moment. i wonder who the fool was that took her joy away.. now, she has to hide all of the scars that once made her pain go away..
For my love  

If someone asked me where I lived, I’d reply that I lived within you
If they asked me for a location, I’d say wherever your heart resides

If they asked me where I was born, I’d tell them that I was born from a part of you
If they asked what part, I’d reply both your heart and your soul

If they asked me where I’d like to live out my days
I’d sing to them that my days were only to be close by your side
And when they asked where I like to die, I’d simply reply within your warm loving arms.

— The End —