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Tangled and mangled and dragged through my shame
I'm torn into pieces, I've forgotten my name
I look in the mirror, but she's not me at all
I've grown taller in inches, but became so small
I always listen, but I can't seem to hear
Always lost in thought, but my mind's never clear
Try to retrace my steps back into my youth
As if some faint memory could show me the truth
Through my window I see them, but they can't see me
The world is so beautiful, but at the same time, so ugly
The sun never sets, it just gets further away
Just like people get close, but they don't ever stay
Then it all becomes dark, and cold, and alone
Suddenly that empty feeling is written in stone
I start to ask if that person was not who I thought
Finding their fragments in moments I'd almost forgot
I don't cut ties, I only rip them apart
As if no one can hurt me, if I chose to depart
But every cruel action has been engraved in my soul
The separate stings of each mark are debilitating as a whole
They say time heals all, but with time comes scars
The sky would be breath-taking, but I can't see the stars
My telescope is tainted, my cd is scratched
And I'm afraid the tears in me are too great to be patched
Now that I know how it feels to be in a different mindset,
not think the way I normally would
and do and say what I'm usually afraid to say,
I never want to be sober again.

Being drunk makes me feel numb.
All my feelings finally go away,
and I can barely think.

I don't have the mindset to think
she said this
or
he did that.

I wish I could stay like that forever,
I'd never feel pain again.
Keep me drunk.
When the painting withers
From the pungent smell of life
A new pattern shall emerge
Covering all your imperfections
Your blackened heart
Shall shimmer with vibrant hues
You'll paint in the joy
Never blotching the canvas
Not a smear will profane
Not a splatter will alter
The stroke of beauty
That shall come to life
This is my decoration.
No seriously.

A picture in paper,
Ink, graphite, rubber--
This is me

An introvert
With compelling words
Becomes an open book

The ruler-rigid lines
Do not hinder or confine
But support

That mere scratches upon a page
Can create a new galaxy of  understanding
Is a neverending wonder

Over the vast horizon
of a blank page,
One can watch a universe unfold

With a blank page,
One receives the ultimate gift
Of a liberated mind

These are my words
This is my passion
This is me

Taking flight
found this on the cover of a "time capsule" we made in my AP US History class; we were supposed to decorate it, but I'm not a very visual person
Ten o'clock at night,
I lay completely awake,
waiting to hear your voice.

Eleven o'clock at night,
I feel the sweet caress of your words,
overcoming me with euphoria.

Twelve o'clock at night,
I succumb to your lulling effects,
guiding me into a deep ocean of sleep.

One o'clock in the morning,
I sense you with me,
allowing me to feel your presence in my dreams.

Two o'clock in the morning,
I'm interrupted by my need to hear you,
waking me up.
for a millisecond,
where they see nothing,
i see *infinity
The darkness slithers along the inner surface of my veins
I can see it
Like a crackle of lightning from the heavens to the dirt below
It spreads
It treads
On the the fleshy road it goes
Soon this unwelcome essence
Will reach my unwanted home
And I
Will sit idly by
And witness
Weathered oak of ancient age
Sandblasted by Sirocco storm
Ribbed and dry and redly sage
Deep corrugated graining, worn.

Grown on hillside far away
Far, in England’s verdant land,
Hewn by artisan of old
Hewn by axe and sinewed hand.

Hauled across a raging sea
By barque of ******’s sail and hope,
Washed by salted wave and gale
Lashed to deck by weathered rope.

Dragged across hot dunes of sand
To a land called Galilee,
Hauled by He, betrayed by man,
Upon the hill of Calvary.

Hoisted high by Roman hand
Stark against a leaden sky,
Red blood stains on oaken cross
On which His Crown of Thorns shall cry.*


M.
Easter Sunday 2014
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