They need to realise, that one day,
she will walk away, and they will never see her again.

I've always wondered where this pain in my head comes from, where it goes when the tears have numbed my face. I wonder why it comes, why it chooses to stay here, in my head. It's made itself comfortable in there. so it comes by more often. when it leaves does it go to someone else's head? or does it prefer the closed limitations of mine?

Does it ever end,
this expanse of pain, and suffering.
I dont understand why,
why am I hear if I all I seemed to do is cry and waste away and crawl further into myself.
Please explain why I seem to see no end to this feeling i feel all the time.
Pain,
no matter if i am genuinely happy or sad, theres just this pain I feel.
Like I'm constantly in pain just for existing.
As if it will ever end as long as I have breathe in my lungs and speech on my tongue. It will just be pain.
I dont understand why.

only ignorant fools fall under the pressure of their friends boots and find themselves  customised to the ways of ill minded and stupid, yet only they know the workings and non workings of their mind to change these ways into better ones than they have been pushed into
/ ignorance /
-m

oh Red, I see your anguish, the fire that burns between your wings,
why are you so enraged. why do you say that you wont fly because the sky is too dark for your eyes. red bird, tell me of the future, what do you seen beyond the clouds. is better than what lies now.

I'm restless, I cant sleep.
This lump in my throat,
The burn in my eyes, the cold in my feet.
The salt on my cheeks, the pain in my back,
I'm restless, I cant sleep.
The pictures in my mind, when i close my eyes,
The sounds in my head, when I think too far,
The memories I feel, the wounds that wont heal.
I'm restless  and I cant sleep.
I'm afraid of what I'll be, if I cant wake up,
And be the person i was, before I was this me.

I guess I can't blame them,
for not asking me how I am,
when I smile, and laugh,  
and pretend.
when all I want is someone
to say
it's going to be okay.
Even when I know it's not.

our house was always changing, from the red hot, blistering arguments, to the cold dark silence that lurked in the hallways,
it would change to the colourful cool shade that spring brings, laughter could be heard, the colour would drain and the shade would be lost, soon giving way for the blistering hot. it was not unknown of, this bi-polar house always changing and always not.

fine me, where the silence is,
no one talks here, because the
voice that says I'm here, speaks
less than the body who sits next
to you in the silence.

speak it! speak it against me, I know it burns you to spit such fire. Yet you think it! because the mind runs wild, while the mouth remains mild.
speak it! I dare you! for once you open your mouth to the thoughts you think, you cannot close the broken door. you think weak smiles and half hearted replies will suffice this line.
For this line is disconnected and you cannot phone back.
So spit it! For I do not hear your childish unwanted thoughts of me, oh speak it against me.
-m

you're in a dark place, in an onyx ocean you float aimless amongst the rest, your arms and legs weightlessly heavy. you toss and turn like an unkept duvet cover, a wrinkled description of the sad lines on your tired face. you barely break the surface of the turbulent waves, crashing and uncrashing. you wish you could just let go and sink like a rock, but you float. like a piece of plastic strewn away after its usefulness. the current carries you, and you let it. push you further and further away from a shoreline. you are stranding yourself so much that no one can even get to you to rescue you.
(self-stranded)
-m

The pit

It’s overwhelming, the depth of it all,
The length you fall, before you hit the bottom
The deep, the mess
The engulfing darkness
the smell of cold wet rocks
And dead grass
The shrilling silence that deafens
the echo of the wind as you fall
the air that fills your lungs almost seems fresh
before you take your last breath.

mindless he drifts into unknown worlds,
where nothing exists and nothing resists,
temptations to create or become,
he just continues to drifts amongst
the bright rainbow colours of the
void he drifts, unknowning of how
far he has drifted. continuously
never going anywhere, staying, going
never leaving the nothing.

can't stop the thoughts,
the flow like endless streaming light,
theses ideas and false memories,
I want to wake up,
wake up from this pointless dream,
I don't want to keep seeing your face,
but it's still there,
everytime I close my eyes,
where ever my eyes wonders,
you are, 
they don't ever stop, I wish they would,
but they won't, 
because I will see you again 
-moyees

I'm trapped, trapped by every breath I take, every blink my eyes take. I am stuck. Stuck in by those who conform to the demons in their minds, I am a slave to the thoughts, thoughts so ambitious that they cannot be contained in the concious but rather un. I am afloat, a dream, a lost. In a never ending strain of my voice, speaking in tongues, crying. Pleading to them.
Leave me alone.

'he's up late, endless conversations,
telling of past stories, opening up the
void, he's a perfect explanation for
nights with no sleep, his smile is vast,
over exaggerated eyes and an ocean of
hair, voice of the stars, his tears are golden,
he's dancing in the rain of sorrow, talking
about a better tomorrow, he sees the light
 in the corners of the world, swimming through
reefs of colours and thoughts, he tells the story,
making endless silences, he's gone to early'
-m

I can't do this anymore,
I just cant.

Grudge holders are like antique collectors
the longer they hold on to something
the more dust it collects
and when its picked up again
the situation becomes unbreathable.

why do we let people in
that we know will hurt us
why do we feel things
that we don't really understand
why do we change ourselves
in order to be accepted
why is really the question,
but its never
for whom.

why was my existence necessary, my lack of actuality,
as I have become; nothing, nothing, nothing
what is the purpose of my conscious, if for nothing but
my self abuse.
what use is this subjection to vile, unreasonable hate and
disappointment.
why was I created, to become a after thought, unneeded
for I cannot contemplate the reasoning behind my being.

as she finally tasted the sweet nectar of freedom, it was ripped from underneath her feet, taken as a prize of her joy. taken because woman were the ones to be taken from, not given too

Am I wrong to hate those who protest to be depressed and want to **** themselves when they have everything I wish I had?
When they say they hate their lives but there family is still together and money is never a problem.
It is wrong that I hate them for not being happy with what they have? When I'm forced to smile and carry on when it feels like I might just snap and break at any second.

yellow bird, hello, tell me of the sun times,
when gold touched the horizon and it shimmered,
waved at the blinding sun,
yellow bird how high can you fly? without the wind
breaking your cry/why are you so shy to tell me your
secret oh yellow bird, tell me the stories of when you
would dive from the sky, a yellow beam of light,
tell the world beneath of your might.

I feel that of those I hate,
I cry the words of their fate,
I see the world in which they lie,
the somber meaning of their cry,
I hear the wind that cuts beneath their feet,
I tremble as they accept defeat.