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Genevieve May 2014
I’ve been pulled
and pushed around
all my life

Like a rag doll 

And it has ended up

Where I am just
going with the wind

Push me away

Pull me back
close

Mess me around

I dont care anymore

I’ve gotten used to

Being used
  May 2014 Genevieve
Camellia-Japonica
My demon stays silent
He has nothing to say
If I allowed him to speak
You'd only run away
So when I'm asked "are you ok"
Silence is the stern reply.
Quiet, peace, dumb, mute
Blank, impassive, soundless a
Demon tamed by having nothing to say
© JLB
  May 2014 Genevieve
smilesjpg
they told me that true beauty
came from within
so i tore myself open
and i slit my skin
i hoped that some beauty would leak out
but all it did was fill me with doubts
they lied to me
why would they do such a thing?
no beauty on the outside
and no beauty within
and all that was left of my ceaseless attempts
were my       u g l y     scars
lining my body, my heart and my head


**( c )
Genevieve May 2014
I don’t want to sleep
There are too many noises
(Too many voices)


The tick 

Tick 

Ticking of the clock

And the silent buzz

Of street lamps

Outside my window


I can hear her breathing


Like the wind

Rushing through the trees

My heart beat

Pulsing in my chest

It gets harder to breathe

Take it slow

Count the seconds

My mind is so awake

But my eyelids

Are falling 
closed


And i am choking 



Inhaling

Smoke and demons

Exhaling

Carbon dioxide
And ash clouds

My hands are shaky
And my fingers

Are burning red

I feel an electric shock

Jolt through my body

Then entire numbness
Genevieve May 2014
I wish I was the kind of person

That could write as beautifully

As the midnight sky

Or your eyes

Some days
I have so many ideas
I can write
and write

Till my pen runs out

Or my arm gets tired

Or I run out of paper

And start to write in books
I’ve read

Too many times

Then there are days when,

my mind is full

But there are no ideas.

No motivation

Just loud voices,

A mess of thoughts

Most of them aren’t even my own

(Maybe I shouldn’t say that

Someone might think I’m crazy)

Just because someone’s mind is

Thought ridden

Doesn’t mean they will turn it

Into art

I think if they did

Someone might get hurt

Writing

It’s dangerous

Not just to an author

But also to everyone else
around them
Genevieve May 2014
Bury me.
Six feet under.
Don’t cry when you come to visit.

Talk to me
(I’ll get lonely, with all these rotting souls surrounding me)

Plants will grow,
from my decaying body,
weaving through my bones.

Let them stay,
they have made friends
with my skeleton
And creaking soul.
Sitting under a tree in a graveyard thoughts.
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