Hell* is at my door
knocking in some rhetorical rhyme
mimicking the voices
inside my head

"Get out of my ******* house"
screams my fathers voice
as his fist hits the yellow walls
of our dainty but quaint kitchen.

"You're just going to end up pregnant"
my mothers shill voice cries out
reminiscing in her past mistakes
blaming me for her horrible life.

"I was just your friend because i felt bad for you"
whined my best friend of ten years
swearing up and down
that I was a jealous, no good, compulsive liar.

"It just wasn't meant to be"
his voice echoed to my soul
breaking me down piece by piece
and walking away forever

My own personal hell
trapping me in the confines of the people I love the most
Haunting me with their displeasure
tormenting me to death

But death sounds like the perfect escape
away from this profane hell
occupying my home, mind, soul, and heart
who's still knocking at my door.

One by one
My petals fell
And I gradually
Became a ****

My beautiful flower
That blossomed and bloomed
Wilted over the seasons
That you controlled

I thrived through spring
Flourished in the summer
Drooped in the fall
And faded into nothing in the winter

A rose full of life
Vivid with color
Became an eye sore
Amongst the other flowers

Now I am nothing
But a useless, ugly ****
Deprived of life and love
And from my only sun

Let's go to the moon

Will count the stars

And watch the love

Of Venus and Mars

In losing my way
Day by day
Dazed and confused
With so much to lose

When I pick up a pen
It's like catching up
with an old friend
who understands
the words I write
and what they mean
Never judging me
for the way
I make everything seem
no second glances
or unwanted stares
just a pen touching paper
a friend that only cares.