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Nina Messina Jan 2014
Fire is welcome heat to my scales, a sharp hot taste on my tongue. I am blood and stars with my breath alone I create suns, with my wings I command the wind.
I am a goddex of the cosmos, for as long as there are lights shimmering in the distance I will exist. No hero owns the right to take my life, for all those who would steal my blazing breath, I will extinguish theirs.
I am a creature of nobility as well as honor, of talons and light. I will claim the hatch-right that is mine.
Seas of lava will pour forth from my scaled lips, not a drop of my blood will be shed.
My scaly visage is pitch as night, red as the heart of a star, silver as starlight. I am divinity, a glimmering shield and hope of transcendence.
Demon they call me, monster, they fear my power
Kneel at my claws, or send warriors to purge my existence
Worship, hate, love
See the path to my caverns and perch, the large slabs of earth leading to my lair is carved through flame.

My spirit is unbreakable, as virtually indestructible as my armored flesh
I will viciously defend what I possess, what I love,
I am a catalyst for all, of hurricanes, of volcanoes
I create, I guard, I destroy..
I am inevitable.
Nina Messina Dec 2013
I’m bending over backwards, cracked words falling from my lips as I try to explain to you who I want to be. My spine cracks beneath the strain.
You turn every phrase I try to translate to you into some spiel, shoved into my face. You called me crazy for being a creative thinker.
The materialization of my existence bursts forth into vibrant colors, a catalyst sparking my unwillingness to become you, who “raised” me.
I still have scars from the lies you carved into my skin, I scratched their opposites on top of them to blot out the dark tendrils of your misery and replace them with my own faltering hope.
Burning and tearing trying to prove I’m not the monster you tried to make
Taking charge of my own youth, teaching my own self discipline to restrain the unfathomable hate I have what you’ve done
At 11 years old you had lora, your /new wife/ steal my diary when she kicked me out of my room to clean it. That night her, sara and yourself read passaged from it aloud and laughed at me.
You turned my brothers against me so I’d always be fighting alone, pitting us against each other like wolves, but I got kicked out of the pack.
I became a fire
Scorching pages of my life’s history till it was erased, retaining the anger of memories and bridges burned.
I was never the villain you played me out as, I learned all my swears from you. I learned all my negatives from the influence you provided. You taught me hatred
I was never the victim you tried to turn me into, maybe I thought I was, maybe I believed it for a little while. That fabrication was never true, never who I was.
You said I was your favorite, yeah maybe your favorite to tear down, your favorite to break.
I’ve figured out that people only try to gain forgiveness from things they’ve broken  after they’ve messed them up past the point where those relationships can be mended,  its proven with you, with my brothers.
You made too many mistakes to fix this, not with gifts, nor with promises that are broken before they leave your lips.
We share blood, I came from you, it seems my value dropped the moment I was born, and obviously you cant respect women enough to give your daughter enough of a chance to fight the world. So I forged my own weapons, sharpened my claws with the will to be better than you ever were.
Nina Messina Dec 2013
Every fiber of my body is on edge, seething with a burning urge to be alive.
More alive than this repetitive stasis that is Educational routine.
My blood thrums and sings with the desire and yearning for otherworldly adventures.  

The uncontainable demanding within my soul that CRAVES more than a dull life set within the confines and standards of a society that has disbanded the thrill seeking pleasure that is and was the old world. Now we have to pay a small fortune in order to obtain a moment where we transcend grey and our colors blast and shoot through the spectrum in solar flare heartbeat pulses of excitement that dulls far too soon.
I want to taste sea salt and raindrops on my lips, grains of sand beneath my feet.
To feel every nerve in my body alight with the spark of something more.
To face the unknown, not in a city nor my home cowering for the remainder of my life.
But to claim my destiny with both hands, clutching my glaive firmly in battle stances while gazing unafraid into the eyes of my nemesis, my enemy.  To duel it out on stormy seas, sails billowing, lifelines secured, braced upon the slick decks of pirate ships soaked with rain while torrents of wind lash at my body during a dangerous battle between lovers, demanding my downfall at the hands of nature but instead of falling to it I would prevail and arise. Where lightning cracks across the sky like a golden whip, where thunder roars in agony across the cosmos like Atlas holding up the weight of the sky.
Engaged in the throes of battle while the air is rich and pungent with the scent of steel and the satisfying clang of blades locked in combat. Sword against glaive, antagonist and protagonist.  
To battle and seek, to pursue those who dare take whom and what I love. To become MORE. To transcend the fabric of dreams and turn all this into something tangible, to grasp it tight and shower the seeds of dreams into the soil of the real world, and to help it bloom into a reality I've wished for my whole life.
Instead of sitting around writing about how much more I long for. I don't want to be trapped in columns, in places at certain times.
To change the world, to alter my dull fate and the chance to make the stuff of my daydreams and night visions into more than just letters on a page. To whisper and weave the song of those worlds into  the fabric of this twisted reality and watch as stardust mends the frayed edges.

Perhaps it is this fate, that my dreams never see the light of the midday sun
that there is not a strong enough conviction nor skilled weaver to bring about the change I long for.

We grow up in a world filled with fairy tales and books filled to the brim with stories to capture our imagination and you cant expect me to suddenly still be content and satisfied with the damnable grayness that is the black and white of our world that will never be filled with color.

And I will be doomed to write out worlds and cultures I can never touch and interact with, never will I be able to grasp the soil of the other worlds and exist within the places I make.
Never will we, of earth, trapped inside dull grey columns ever truly experience freedom.
Not even with our words for we cant even paint the sky a different color other than grey, and the ground beneath our feet will only ever be black. Despite the colors we think we see, they're not the colors we want. Just pale washed out shades of worlds we will never be a part of.
Nina Messina Oct 2013
Hope of Humanity
Shall I let linger the shimmering stardust of every thought of a dreaming heart.
To show you the true meaning of what hope is.
Prove to you with just my heart, as well as what I believe and see with each passing second.
Bring light to your each and every doubt and disprove all thoughts based upon the lies of a society eager to strip you of everything you love and believe to be good about yourself.
I see each teardrop that falls from your eyes and I weep with you. For what more is there do to but mourn together.
I can tell you what there is to do.. There is a seed of light amidst the darkness waiting to bloom, but your darkened, blinded, agonized eyes refuse to see it.
I have cried rivers and oceans of tears for the despair of humanity and the loss of true love in this world.
As each step towards a darker more corrupt future lights a dim candle, I will forever be known as the one who looked upon the true face of mankind and wept for their hopelessness.
For in the eyes of a shattered youth, I saw the remnants of broken dreams left to darkness and silence!
Dreams lost to those who sought them. In their sparkling descent to the pit where fallen dreams go, I watched as the one true love, that should have been treasured above all else, was discarded. Glittering in all its brilliance before it shattered to oblivion and was sought long after its destruction. Left to decay in darkness, lonely darkness.
Where Love, could not love, nor be loved anymore.
So you'd do well not to let your dreams die.
You have the power to make them into reality.
Don't let them fade.
In the end, they're all we have left... Just the shimmering stardust of a dreaming heart to show you what hope truly is.
Nina Messina Oct 2013
Outwardly I am a titanium barrier, inwardly, a net of strings hold me together within confining my true self to my mind. The metaphoric needle posed between thumb and forefinger, sewing patch after patch across my ruined skin, holding in the things that threaten to burst. The thread is my self value, thin and dissolving.
Watching in the shattering mirror, who I am, as tears and blood slip past trembling fingers.  Reaching upwards towards light, but I drown in the darkness. I am swallowed by hopeless misery.
Floundering and toiling in the shadows of my own faith and nearly forgotten beliefs.
Sorrow floods me, consuming in a cold fire that doesn’t burn, but freezes to the core.
Refracting shards of light that escape like a song. They fall like a melody from my lips.
While the heat of the world swirls around me in shades of blue and black. I am bruised and ask "why do I hate myself?"
I never have an answer. Only the memories of a life so beyond dysfunctional that I have to resort to story writing to make believe a happy ending, never truly believing in it.

What were these whispered words that squirmed and infiltrated my mind, what are those lost secrets and memories left to fade away. Tormented, still I remain silent. Suffering quietly. Wondering if I'll go down without a fight, or would I take my own life. It is the loss of my humanity. I transcend in definition, no longer resembling who I was.  Silver tears, dripping from the eyes of the moon, as if such a cold distant satellite mourns for and with me.

Fear remains, as it always does, clutching my heart in an iron grasp. Despite the freedom of a new life, my knees are buckling, I’m poised to run, as if there were a place to escape to. Walls arise on all sides. I am locked in a box, where I hide away from the world, and I become, cold and distant as the moon. Fighting myself endlessly.
Hide everything I am from the world, and put it out of sight of myself, I don't dare to confront it.
I ask myself again. "Why do I hate?" I know a vague answer to it this time. I have allowed the evil and cruelty of a despondent life before this one to shape me, even after my resurrection, despite my belief and faith. I had let it consume me.
My heart, a thousand splinters of ice, would once break, even if it was looked at, or touched, cracked and shatter repeatedly. I only watch, making no attempt to heal myself. Content with viewing my own nails clashing with soft flesh that gives way to pain and agony. Slicing into cold abysmal depths, bleeding a metaphoric spectrum of ****** colors into my veins that then spill down the drain of my heart.

I wonder if there is any capacity within me, for the remnants of a shimmering soul to return to hope?   I'd abandoned love and hope for so long, had they dissipated completely. Do I dare to uncover such a startling miserable revelation?
My voice catches in my chest, as I sing halfheartedly for my freedom. To be released from my anguish. My voice not carrying past my lips, stolen by the wind of despair circulating around me.
I had changed, believed myself worthless and ugly. Melancholy, a kaleidoscope of emotions contrasting with one another. Dripping together to create the painting of my life. Magnificent, yet lonely and sad. Like forlorn splatter-paint tears down the side of eroding walls.

I was told once that I was shiny on the outside, and dull on the inside. Gilded. I want to change that. I cannot hide the scars I have been dealt, nor can I conceal the ones I've inflicted to my own body. I remember each slice to the skin with shame. That I had knowingly marred perfect flesh.
"What value could I possibly have if I'm constantly looked down upon?"  I pose questions like this to myself.
Everything they say makes me feel worthless, like I'm not supposed to be here.
Maybe I'm not, I wasn’t supposed to live was I?
“Worthless. Freak. Stupid.”
Do these words define me?
Are they who I am?
I am a shadow, As I sink into the depths of my own insignificance I stare speculatively, emptily up at the opalescent translucence far above me. I’ve always been worthless,  but now I am nameless. I’ve never been to solid in my own emotions, right now I don’t know what to feel anymore. Where and what is joy? What happened to the light?
I dissolve into toxicity and an almost chemical stasis of depression, seeping into my heart with the thickness of sick black tar, dragging me farther than I’ve ever been beneath the surface.

I become nothing, for that is what I presume I always was, nothing. Only a mirage burning holes into the fabric of lonely hearts longing, a haunting memory left to torment into seclusion and sorrow.
An empty shell of what once was a girl with dreams, is all that remains to decay in the dark. While the shudder of sobs dies down into a tempest of self loathing.
An incandescent nightmare, flares out like the petals of a blossoming flower, they unfurl and cover the dystopia of eloquently disfigured words that curl and uncoil, only to surround the wounds of me that pour from a inky black liquid that has replaced the blood in my veins.
The push and pull of the sorrow and hope mixing into the discordant symphony of life. The sound that is the melody of me.

— The End —