These late nights I spend my time
staring at a wooden ceiling
with little plastic stars on them, reliving every ounce of pain you poured through me. Every time I cried out in pain, you laughed with pleasure. Every time I begged for you to stop, you only made it worse out of your own satisfaction. Every time I believed the lies, you let me because of your own insecurities.

The blue and purple marks faded but here I am a year and a half later still feeling their sting. Here I am, unable to have intimacy because of your lack to do so when you were given the chance. The chance I regret giving you. And the one after that. And the other hundreds of times I let you crawl back in and convince me, things were going to be different.

The feeling of being pinned has lifted but you're weight still holds me down to where I can't get up. Forcing me to wait until the time passes and you are finished with your masochistic games. You use your strength to your advantage and take my only form of innocents you haven't already stripped.

On nights like these, the flash backs take over, consuming my ability to tell up from down. Remembering is almost worse than living the memories that broke me long ago. Why? Because now it isn't only hurting me. Because now it gets in the way of me being able to give the one person who deserves to have me completely my intimacy. Because now, even though years have passed, you still manage to push me down when I try to get back up.

I see your anger in life playing out around me. I see your cruelty in even the smallest reactions. Your vision of red still drowns me when I receive a compliment as simple as "you're beautiful".  Your need to hurt the ones who show you loyalty makes paranoia creep into my mind. Your desire for control build a wall so strong inside of me I appear to be soulless.

All those months of being worthless and helpless and good for nothing, being told I was ugly and a **** and how no one could ever love me. All those months etched in my heart with a dagger which drips with your blood none of which to be true.

You made me into your own insecurities. You made me soulless. You made me break over and over again. You stripped me of innocents. You took what I wouldn't give and left me blue and purple.

But I guess this is what I deserve for making a deal with the devil. Late nights staring at a wooden ceiling with traces of little plastic innocents
taunting me with something I can never get back.

Pale cheeks and eyes of innocents
she with holds too much pain to be known. Invisible unless needed, deprived of self worth, and discarded for the sake of not meeting society's standards for what is considered a beautiful person. Accepting the sorrows of others for the sake of them not being hurt by their own misfortunes thus causing her to spiral down a never ending staircase which only gets more lonely the farther she tumbles. Surrounded by those with claims of desires only to be shown through the selfish lusts of their own wants different than spoken, for ending in a tragic flaw presented by the misinterpreted Heroes themself. What is worth her time for she is more wise than those of her time because she spends such hours in situations unfamiliar to those of whom before her time. Her uncharted royalty illuminates individuals that recognize such value and are drawn to the aura glistening off the dullest of unpolished possessions leading them to question the recognizability of her worth which appears undoubtably answered through the remarks and expression of the crumbling world around her. However after she makes her depart from this temporary home of which we call a world, equals find her to be appealing and more wise than any role model whom set the standard. Others do not have this problem because they were part of those lucky individuals with appearances socially acceptable. As if society it self actually knows them. Her pale cheeks and eyes of innocents which withhold too much pain for one person shall continue their days being a passing face as only a blur on a page with worth cast aside until she breaks from the never ending sorrows of others.  One does not receive a value nor acknowledgement by other humans unless they are either pretty of dead.

Oh gentle eyes see nothing but greatness.
And greatness seeks nothing except success.
But success can be brought down by lies and arrogance.
Lies make the soul weak and untrusting.
Arrogance makes the heart cold and entitled.
Is weak, untrusting, cold and entitled gentle and full of greatness?
For what do our eyes deceive except for what he wants us to?
For what does our soul deceive except for the peaceful death among everyone?
For what does our eyes cherish of all the misguided beauty of helpless creatures?
For what does our soul cherish except for the pain in the eyes of a dying butterfly?
Oh so gentle eyes see the beauty and regret full of greatness in this disaster of a land.
Oh gentle eyes at last you seek the truth.

I've always heard people saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul. My windows aren't windows at all. They are steal doors bolted shut from the inside. Behind the doors, is a little girl with the looks of innocents. screaming and kicking she fights, her little weak body is no match for the metal chains and latches, holding her in place. so much pain is held within each scream and cry poured from her mouth. No one coming to her rescue. no one caring about each cry for help. So chained up she will remain inside of these so called windows that we call eyes.

Nothing but lies and untruths.
Nothing gentle ever meant.
Nothing but pure lies.
Lies of love. Lies of caring.
Lies of accepting. Everything a game.
Everything seen as wrong doing.
Everything pushed down farther and farther.
Always left defenseless.
Always buried alive.
Always underappreciated.
Never knew the truth, Never been perfect.
Never known to any worth.
Left stripped of humanity. Left being a different person.
Left to live a dead life.
Unaccepted.
Unaware.
Untruths.
Nothing but lies and untruths.

The sound of slamming doors fill my ears. Distant screams and shouts of hateful words linger in the air. I lay where I was forced to the ground covered in precious silver tears. Using only my hate and anger to keep me going. The pain burns inside, swallowing any part of myself I have left. My fingertips outline a clear, soft, edge that will allow every painful thought to seep out into the blissful darkness. At first I feel a different pain, a type of pain that should send me running to the farthest of corners but instead I welcome it/ The pain reaches a point where I open my mouth to cry out but not sound comes out, The warmth of the burning covers like a blanket made of bricks. Pressing on every nerve, breaking every bone so easily, crushing everything ever known. Then all of a sudden, the pain slowly exits. I feel it run along my skin as it makes its way into nothing. The only evidence, a small mark distorted by the skin. the only reminder of how much pain was shed. The only way one would know, is the sound of slamming doors.

As I take a step towards the never ending drop off, I near tiny rocks tumbling down to the waves below. The memories of you, of us crashing into my head. Pounding, beating, coming in with each wave I hear yet again another lie. Each memory more painful than the last. Trying not to let it take control of me. The sound from the violent waters beneath me digs the knife in even deeper; pushing me towards the edge. Looking down I can see the swirling truth that has been hidden for too long. Faced with the choice of which way to go. Another lie! Another excuse! I can feel you trying to reel me back in with your soft, gentle, untruthful words. I start to turn back to you when you shoot out another bullet of silver. Feeling myself wobble on the edge of the sharp cliff fro the impact taken. Wondering if you will reach out to catch me before I fall, but your eyes filled with red and your lips form to a slight smile, your body does nothing but stand taller with more pride than it did before. You have made your final move so I must make mine. I stop fighting, stop trying to catch my balance. At last see where you truly stand. I surrender and give in to the current that will carry me far away from my everything that has turned out to be yet another lie.