I am a Demon
I am not an inner Demon
I cut you in ways no one can see
I live in the dark, banished

I am your Demon
Once your knight, now fallen
I fight for you if called, But feared for what I will do
I can not help my blade

My sword pointed at your heart
I silently scream as it cuts in you you
I wear these chains
I wear this broken crown

Your Demon
Your forgotten
Larking quietly waiting to be called
Wishing I could be alive again

I fell for you
I am here
In spirit
In death

I watch over you
Hiding my face and form
Knowing it hurts
I don't want you to die

Keep fighting my Queen
Pick up my sword and shield
Pick up your self
And never forget how special you are

A stone around a broken neck.
Contorted misfit, from a prison cell.
Locked in for fear of fleeting love.
Open yourself, oh male one.
Drop all your ******* protestations.
Answer her, here and now.
Upon what basis is your fear?
All that's left are faded dreams of drama queens and poetry.
Opaque in love's injurious injustice!
Is it maybe that the moment, that on my face your eyes may fall,
For fear that once again, true love may call.
You stumble knowingly within the pretense that you want is to fly free.
I have the perfect answer to this love that ails you:
From the eyes of the ornithologist, chickens cannot fly away, ostriches, they're always flashing in a dash, penguins love the chill of the thrill and turkeys they get eaten.
And hell you so like that!
(c) Livvi

Have you ever felt
A compelling urge
To hug somebody?
To just wrap your arms around them
And never let go?
You just want to drop everything
And hug that person,
Touch them,
Embrace them.
You just want to be near them.
Forever.
No talking.
Just hugging.
Because you seem to say more,
Have deeper discussions,
When you’re in each other’s arms
Then when conversing aloud.

That’s the kind of bond
I want to have with someone
Some day.
Because the simplest of things
Speak louder
Than any words
Ever will.

You slice yourself to make you bleed.
To **** emotions, set you free.
Veins flow, pain recedes.
In crimson stains you suffocate.
Just enough not to seal your fate.
You rip away to make you bleed to **** your feelings.
Make them numb.
It feels so good when it acts as a leech.
A gentle tear, a mark left there.
Pierce a portion, maybe a lip.
Feels so ******' free.
Whenever you scar, it releases such pain.
For a moment or two,
How do I know?
I used to be you.
Have scars and scratches on my wrists.
Medals from self-abuse.
Those marks are very small, once they let free my pain.
Now I'm fifty, life is sort of settled.
Me, I'll never ever slash again.
(c) Livvi