wish I could go back,
to a time where I didn't understand,
what I felt. because now that I know,
it's crushing me.

I'm just tired
Why does nobody see that.

What is all this worth?
Pain?
Suffering?
Unhappiness?
Will I only find peace after the end?
Will it ever end?

So much to say,
no one to talk too.

/day 1/

they say its not real,
the pain in my head,
they say the pills won't work,
but it's all I have to comfort me.

my forehead is damp,
there's a piercing pain in my skull,
sweat drips down the back of my neck,
my throat tightens, I'm breathing harder,
trying to stay alive -  focus - count.
1-
                  2-            

3-

shaking frustrations, heart aching situations,
she breaks her fingers in a brick wall confrontation
red/black/orange/purple seep from the opaque -
white knuckles, squeezing tight
she rips the papers, shreds she dreads
broken frames, abandoned - afraid,
the expectations, sit heavy - break her neck
her head hangs
fists and wrists - left -
contorted.

Restless I rock, back and
forth, back and
forth,
squeezing my knees, shutting my eyes,
so the tears don't fall, I'm breathing hard,
Huh-Ha-Huh-Ha-Huh-Ha-
my heart is beating in my head,
Fingernails digging into my leg.
I'm shaking,
I'm waiting,
for that sound. A door, being slammed.
A voice, being raised.
A glass, being broken.
Back and forth,
back and forth
back and -

so theres this ocean,
big and blue,
beautiful.
so much life breathing in its waters,
how could I have seen?
the death that swam beneath.

the little blue bird from my dream,
it told me I would be okay,
it told me I would get through it,
it told me not to worry
but then,
that little blue bird from my dream died.

the unbreakable balance of,
small tiptoes past, 
quite smiles and loud eyes,
the unasked for hugs and hellos,
the unbreakable balance.
tone deaf competitions,
and stupid little things
those beautifully footed decisions
and thankful regrets,
crumpled notes and shared sandwiches,
the unbreakable

there are three kinds of people, the breakers, the fixers and the broken, the breakers cannot handle happiness in others and so they have to break those who are happy, the fixers are the ones who cannot handle others being in sadness or dispair and they do all they can to fix the broken, the broken people are the ones lost between being breakers and fixers, constantly breaking themselves down and trying to repair themselves back to normal again. /and everyone is trying to find there place between the breakers, the fixers and the broken, everyone wants to be a fixed person perfectly okay without cracks or broken pieces, but there are only three kinds of people.

-moyees

i want to scream.
I want to run away.
i WANT to tell everyone that i can't handle it anymore.
i want to tell people TO leave me alone.
i want to DIE.
i have nothing.
all i have is pain and hatred and unhappiness.
everyone else's lives are so perfect.
why was mine chosen to be broken.

I'm tired, of this.
No one understands it.
The pain that I feel,
they think it doesnt affect me,
because I'm young. 
They don't realise how wrong they are.
They have pushed me, shoved me around
Made me not want to be myself anymore.
Because,
I'm done.
Trying.
Fighting.
Being the better person because why do I have to be so good if everyone around is talking s...
Why do I have to be the one to keep living if all they are doing is telling me why it's not worth it.
How better it will be if we just cease to exist.

the curtain. this metaphorical object,
drawn over the eyes of those who protest against
their sight, this curtain of dark unwanted thoughts,
reins freely behind these hanging cloths, the protester
seems to speak of the light, yet is stuck behind the
curtain. this metaphorical object.

Daffodil, sweetheart you're just like the rest,
plain and simple, still ugly at your best,
your colours are dull and you don't have a nice smell,
there's hundreds and thousands of you, oh
small and fragile daffodil, you thought you were
special sadly you're not, you even lack the
simplistic things the weeds have got,
you look like a unfinished piece that God forgot,
why do you try so hard to be that beautiful rose
because it seems to be that everyone but you
knows,
its hard to be a sweet sweet Daffodil, but that's what you are.

she spirals out of control, like a blown away dandelion. broken by society flinging her rawly into the world of plastic flowers. she lands when the wind can't break her fall, smashing her dreams into concrete. her little seeds of happiness trodden on and lost is all she has left of her once beautiful self
-moyees

She is angry but is forced to be so still and silent.
She is broken and is given weak tape to fix herself.
She is unhappy but can fake a smile without a doubt.
She is the daughter you wished you had drowned as a baby.
She is unperfect and a rash you cannot get rid of.
She is a weight on your back you've carried for 18 years and just dropped.
She is a fighter you can beat down but never defeat.
She is a scar in society that you created.
She is your daughter.

small spaces/no air, blackened eyes and ******* hair, keys/gone underneath the chair, keep looking/ find it no where, no light/ switch to the dark ones, empty beds/heads filled with questions/answers to complicated situations/ excavations of the past/ at last I find the keys/ he's my answer/dancer in the light, long nights left alone in the dark, searching for my one true side, we collide like a fork and a spoon/ curving soon to the metal handle, like 3 arms holding up these candles. red hot flame, burns the blame/ game for us to play/say do you hear the silence that is conveyed/ raid their hearts and fill their lungs with smoke and jokes/ notes stuck up on this wall, waiting to fall, like leaves/ he leaves me bare to the branch, I'm left standing on my own two feet/beat to the finish line/ spine traced and bent to carry the key for the next generation/ they want an explanation, why she is so broken/ outspoken, a her but not here. come on dear fetch me a beer

just when it all seems good, the dust stirs and the choked blackness prevails and I suffocate in the midst of all these problems and the more people's feet step in the more the dust flies, I can't stop the cries, this everlasting circumference of circumstances. my heart it vents to die, oh why, do I believe the goodness will ever stay.
-

flashes of eyelashes, flickered back and forth
glinting of teeth, dancing pearls in a red lipped sea.
rivers and canyons of golden, flocks of hummingbirds, flapping a wind chime.
dancing trees, and tips of thumbs, outlines of dimples, roads to nowhere.
blue chipped light bulbs, freckled with white snow drops

He hates the world so much it seems,
he wishes he could be gone in his dreams,
he fights his battles alone, his scars are the glinting tears his fears have forgotten.
his anger breaks the silent void that fill his house with noise.
He spits his words so hatefully
without reason he breaks the broken,
he trys to buy peoples hearts with money
if only we were to love the things
if you could see me, how much I am like you would, would you hate me more than you already do.

there's this, fire. inside of me.
that I don't understand.
but it understands me.
it knows my fears, and my hate.
it fuels my intentions,
it burns a dark red,
and it speaks in tongues,
it feels the disgust that lurks
in my heart.

Her soul is a fire, it burns with an intent.
not to harm or cause destruction to those
 she crosses paths with.
But to keep those close to her warm and safe,
However,
if you dare to step into her flames unprotected you will burn inconveniently, if you dare to throw water to douse her she will break out stronger that you think.
Her soul is a fire, think again when you speak to her.
-moyees

' The comparison between the big fish in a small pond and a small fish in the ocean can be related to an egotistical man who finds himself the big shot but is locked in such a small world he has no real dreams or aspirations, all he can do is swim around his small pond of knowledge because that's all he knows. Yet the small fish, a boy who's only wish is to be better and dreams of new possibilities has the entire ocean to explore because even though he's not the big fish, he knows there's more out there than a simple pond of life, thoughts and dreams. The bigger dream is no more important that the small dreams, just as the small fish isn't less important than the big fish
-m

I always heard of the stories,
of what happened behind closed doors,
what people whispered about when it was spoken about on the news,

when you don't even bat and eyelid,
because it will never happen to you-
You'll never know that pain -

I thought -
And now, I cry. Because I was so fortunate before
And now I can't look at myself the same way.
I cant think the same way,
It -
Hurts to know I will never be the same.
Never.

she needs to let go, but these splinters keep finding their way under her nails and she can't dig them out without hurting

She wonders, where his heart is, if it carries her name like it does all his sins and burdens, she worries that his heart is filled with regret and hatred than it does love. she hopes his heart is kept safe from broken things, she hopes one day he'll put his heart in careful hands as capable as his own

she walks amongst the broken glass,
careful toes and silent cries as she cuts her feet.
two rivers flow gentle southward, curving in the crevices of her cheeks. she's hold her head high and proud, as sand blasts her in her face. rocks fall upon her shoulders digging new holes in her red jacket leather. her voice is low, it sings a tune, of a blue bird she dreamt of. her feet keep walking and walking on, set on a empty future. her hands are artworks and artists, cut and cutting beautiful patterns into white canvas, tearing away the innocent left behind. the thunder and clouds shout endless rainstorms, they wash away the tears, blood and pain. they bring a static numbness that seems to last forever, until the lightning brings his brothers friend. a silver dagger, so beautiful so hideous, it cuts open her chest to find an empty cavity with nothing but flesh left, a heart lies dormant, it's pulse gone. her soul is lifted to another level, a place where nothing exists. her mind stares blank at this screen, lost in nothingness. but her body is stuck in this bed, the house no longer a home, waiting for the minutes to reach, the hours to end, so she can sleep and dream, ****** dreams, wake up and carry on with what life brings

highly he sits on his pure white stallion, blameless and truthful, or so he portrays himself to be.
he thinks himself to be the one the words are directed at, but he dare point the finger at himself, he thinks himself to be to perfectly unperfect that he could ever do such a thing
he asks of me such little things not knowing they stand on mountains
I dare not speak of her to him, he jumps quickly from his royal perch and rains his thunder down on my back
oh how you think you own the world dearly beloved, so gallop away on your mule and grab your sensitive precious princess and run away to your little Kingdom where you have no rule apon me!
-m

he is unruly, he is but a ****** word
that no righteous tongue will speak,
he is but a old dusty book, unread,
grey with it, he rubs his name from
those he wishes for unseen, and for
one he stays on the line, on beck
and call, but for any other, such as
me, he waits, or does not wait.
for he knows I speak such truths.
he sees the line from which I write,
but I shall never protest his name
for that would be an unrighteous
fate
-moyees

if there is a higher being made of love,
why am I constantly in pain,
why do the people around me suffer in decay,
why does the world experience such devastation,
if there's a bigger picture.
why do I cry at night, alone and in need,
if all I need is love and to be loved,
why am I so alone.
why do I have to suffer underneath
the destroyed love of others.
why is love so painful.

I know, when you think I don't,
I know how you really feel,
the words you speak when my back is turned,
the hurt you spew and the love you give when we face.
how can you be so ignorant of the fact
that I know you hate me, don't pretend anymore.
there's no point, because I know, I know its you.

Her lips and her eyes, they tell such lies
Oh how you only saw the beautiful disguise
She's had on since those times
She hiding herself from what's behind
Left in the past to rot and dies
Her old self is no longer with us
But her eyes and her lips they play **** tricks
So beautiful and amazing they say
Oh how they only see what she pretends to be
-moyees

mama, I love you,
but you just dont see,
how the joy has left me.
I no longer feel,
from the tips of my fingers
to my toes.
I feel absolutely
nothing.
mama I wish you would listen
when I say,
maybe I could learn to feel again.
but mama says,
it isnt real.
it will pass.
pray.
stop thinking so much.
mama,
I'm trying.

she never liked mirrors
they never told her good things.

she is a broken woman, down and confused.
taken for granted and is never amused.
she is a warden that stalks the halls in the afternoon but is a broken bird who quietly sings at night.
she is a lonely soul looking for love
afraid to leave the one she does.
she wishes she was dead because she's depressed and has no hope for a future.
she dreams of being in the dark nothingness because there had been no light in her life for years.
she is my mother.

broken, shards, lay strew across her eyes,
and black holes fill her cheeks, leaves
sewn into her lips, hands are replaced with
plastic bottles, twisted and obscure.
ash and fire burn into her core, leaving
dust that fills her nose and mouth,
her skin is dark purple, bruised and sore.

nameless acts, frowned upon the crease of their eyebrows and the purse of their lips. acts tasted by few, and by even fewer than they, held carefully on the tip of their tongue, afraid to let the act fall away, but to afraid to gulp it down. act at which most must act upon is seen as no more than a one second glance.

what should one say,
when they think about the end -
twice a day,

should I say
I'm okay?
or should I say nothing.

Numb. Is all I feel. hands, feet and heart.
all numb. broken and shredded like a dead crushed leaf. I lie against the cold concrete floor.
knocking my knuckles against the brick wall. The skin turning red like the red I see all day long. The crying has stopped long ago, as all the tears have been used and wasted. I think of my future that has already been broken.

a young girl questioned the Oak Trees on their wisdom,
they told her she was too young to worry about the future,
they promised to share their wisdom once she had grown,
a young boy questioned the Oak Trees on their knowledge,
they told him he was too young to care about gaining knowledge,
they promised him to have knowledge once he was grown,
years later
the boy came back to question the Oak Trees on their knowledge,
the Oak Trees replied, that knowledge was useless with out the wisdom to use it.
the young girl never came back.