Talking to a sorry seamstress.
Hanging out in New Orleans.
A witch, she stole you from you jeans,
Robbed you of your lover,
Sold you onto another.
Satan himself.

Exerted the most passionate of mind control.
When full of magic she robbed your soul.
Full of pizzazz and all that jazz.

Black cats and ravens.
Unholy houses, unsafe havens.
Voodoo.
Trembling zombies,
Out to munch.
Petrified lunch.

Potions.
Lotions.
Evil devotions.
Incensed.
Incantations.
New Orleans.
Zombie nation.
(C) Livvi

I'd like to think
That I'm a poet
But I know I'm not
And I'd like to think that after today
I'd put my pen down
But I know I won't
Even when my hands are shaking
And I feel so weak
I'll keep writing down
Every thought I have

Hello to you once again,
My old enemy
You came Creeping out
From the darkest recess
Out of my mind

When I think at last
That I have defeated you
You prove me wrong
And no matter how I try
You keep coming back

For so many years
We fight this battle
But no matter how much
You keep pushing me
I manage to hold on

If I lost my soul to you
Then the end would come
I would be no more,
Trapped by insanity
Broken and forgotten

So no matter when you come
Dragging yourself in rage
You try in endless torment
To shatter my senses
You are my depression

That part of me, in misery
Which I try to push away
Alas, you are always there
Reminding me how I fell
But I continue to stand

People spoke about how cigarettes **** people
I never smoked, but I still feel a burning sensation in my lungs
People said alcohol tears people apart
But I didn’t need it to push everyone away
People never talk about how one day I would want to rip my body apart
How you’d become trapped in your own head
They never talked about the things that hurt the most
Things that take you by the throat and never let go
How being alone became the only thing I know
I only ever allowed myself to bask in people.
I sunk my teeth into them like a snake releasing venom
And allowed myself to be consumed by them
I was never one for drugs or money
The only things that have ever hurt me,
Had eyes littered with stars, and hearts filled with dust.

I won't let something silver lead to something red, because I'm tired of this. I'm sick of turning heads due to something on my wrist. I'm tired of being labeled with the right title for the wrong characteristics, yea I'm emo but society's definition for the word is unrealistic. I'm tired of being labeled and stereotyped by people who don't have the facts. I'm tired of being treated differently due to my style. I'm tired of being called an emo freak behind my back. And you wonder why I hardly ever smile. I'm tired of people saying they know me, the ones who say I'm strong because they never see me cry. But if they would take a closer look at reality they would realize that what they say they know is a lie. Because in reality I'm that girl that no one notices. Always getting looked over, the one you would walk right past. And if you do notice me the first thing you do is ask if I am okay. You ask the same question, you get the same answer. It's the same conversation every day. Yet you ask me again I guess your just making sure. So we start again.

Are you okay?
                                                                                              I'm fine.
That's it I will make you happy today!
                                                                    I think that choice is mine.
You look upset....
                                                                                 I'm tired that's all.
You should get some rest.

                              (but today our little "talk" took a fall)
                                                not what I meant not sleepy or worn out
You said you were tired, tired of what?
                  I don't know people, life, ever thing makes me want to shout!
Let me see your arm, tell me there isn't a fresh cut.
                              there isn't no I'm through, with the way my system is   wired I cant deal with you get this in your head im fine im tired

Fumbling with the doors
Hop-scotching through furniture
Juggling with objects
Dancing with your thoughts
Making it to the bus
Than remembering
You forgot your socks.