Why don't you look at me?

Why don't you see all the things that I see?

Why is all this unclear to you but not to me?

Why don't you look at me?

Why don't you feel the things that I felt?

Why haven't you held the burden's I've held?

why won't you look at me
why do you ignore the tears I do cry
why do you chase after time I cannot bide

why won't you look at me?
why won't you look at the face you've painted?

Aren't you proud of your work?

Changing my world's gravitation into your world's,
so you are the sole center of my universe

Aren't you happy with how I hurt?

Making me feel as though I am not real,
not really my own abode

Why won't you look at me?
*Aren't you *happy with your work?

It's so unfair.
My heart is breaking,
splintering,
like it was whole to begin with.
I don't understand why
I need you so badly
when I am terrified of you.

How ridiculous I feel
trying crookedly
to walk down
these dark lit streets at night.

I am wandering,
I don't know what I'm doing.
But I do.

I grip my knife
with sweaty palms.
I am searching for
what I never hope to find.

I will embrace you.
I will attack you.
I will run.
I will freeze.

I never sleep.

My dreams
are filled with ghosts of the past.
Of my past.
Of the future I long for.
Of the future I fear.
Filled with nothing.
Filled with you.
Who are you?
Why can't you just leave me alone?

who am I?
it is a question i ask in vain
amidst all the terror my life has brought
i find time to inquire.

who am I?
the answer never comes
through all the screams
i look up at the sky and askk.

who am I?
my name never mattered
instead i was given a number
tatooed on my arm in burning ink.

who am I?
in order to stay sane i speak
to myself or others
and together we try to remember.

who am I?
i do not think i will ever know
and i stare at the black doorway in front of me
with the smokestack up above.

Born screaming small into this world-
Living I am.
Occupational therapy twixt birth and death-
What was I before?
What will I be next?
What am I now?
Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind
of a careless God
I will not bend and grovel
When I die. If He says my sins are myriad
I will ask why He made me so imperfect
And he will say 'My chisels were blunt'
I will say 'Then why did you make so
many of me'.

And she'll take her frozen finger
and send it down
to find the sources of her quiet sound,
the cold and shaky embodiment of her state of mind.

Because she hates what she is,
inside and out.
She looks everywhere
for a piece of beauty that she will never find.

"There's so much ugly in this world."

Here. Have a little more.

i heard the leaves fall
i heard your last call

i wish u thought of me, when u were counting ur last breath
then that wait turned to a thing called death

i wish u wished that i was there
all those painfull tears i alone cant bear

your memories are blurry,
why did u have to be in a hurry?

i ran through your old photograph...
it was as fresh as the scar and as old as that torn scarf

they all said u loved me so,
but then im left to wonder why did u have to go

i wished upon a shooting star,
then i realised that ur too far

way out of reach,
yet too colse to me ...

your memories are safe in my heart
even death cant tear us apart... <3

-mistymoonlight ,
<3 xox.