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Diana Iriz Jul 2013
I'll go on a diet
And maybe he'll love me

I'll curl my hair
And maybe they'll notice me

I'll put on make up
And maybe they'll smile at me

I'll put on perfume
And maybe they'll come closer to me

I'll walk in high heels
And maybe they'll look up at me

I'll wear fancy clothes
And maybe she'll get jelous of me

I'll talk *****
And maybe they'll hear me

I'll start smoking
And maybe they'll sit with me

I'll get a tattoo
And maybe they'll stop and stare at me

I'll get implants
And maybe they'll take a picture of me

I'll self loathe
And maybe they'll compliment me

I'll run away
And maybe they'll follow me

I'll go insane
And maybe they'll comfort me

I'll **** myself
*And maybe they'll miss me
Diana Iriz Jun 2013
You know when you're getting old.
When you realize the generations after you are stupid
and the generations before you were right.
Diana Iriz Jun 2013
It begins. You are born
into an unseen kingdom on earth
with a life as a test

As a child
you seek for dear daddy
but your eyes never meet

You know He sees you
from a palace you await
your whole life to step into

He's here for you they say
He guides you they say
He is your king they say
You believe what they say

You walk as time runs

As you gets older
you begin to wonder
You're impatient to meet him
You hear more and more stories
about a man that plays with fire
How he creeps in the unguarded hearts
of those who should know better

One night you hear his steps
follow you in the dark
with nothing but the burning torch in his hand
Like a moth
you drift closer to his bright hypnosis
dazed by his glowing eyes
He touches your shoulder
in what seemed to be gentle
All you know is that
you don't have to wait for this one

You fall into his arms
expecting a hug.
Have you found your

Suddenly you're paralyzed into his grasp
The eyes of a deceiving madman
stare down as he suffocates your soul
Your heart is drained empty of pure water
to be replaced with his vile poison

You run as time flies

You're caught,
curled up in a lonely alleyway
between two harrowing dead ends

You stare into the wall of fire
at a hand with sharp red talons reaching out
accompanied by a wicked grin
you recall in your nightmare
A familiar acquaintance

You turn to find another hand
that tempts you
softly begging for your trust again
He has watched you like a Shepard
but you don't know his smile
He is a stranger
only vaguely remembered
by the tales you've heard them
speak greatly about

You're overwhelmed
You're distressed
You're impaired
You're weak

Tears make your vision hazy
and with a swift, blind move
you close your eyes and grab a hand
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