Pain ?
I felt it. I lived it.
I slept with it.
Blood ?
It ran down my
arms and thighs
from deep cuts.
Depression ?
It was a life lesson.
Love ?
It helped me feel
and heal.
Tears ?
They turned from
blood to salty water
that shined like
pretty chandeliers.
Him ?
He saved me from
this all while everyone
stood there and
watched me
fall* ~

I'm fading away,
but you'll never see past my
camouflage smile.

My voice,
It cannot be silenced
I will write,
I will sing,
I will do anything to set me apart
From what I'm "Supposed to be"
Because normal is boring.
I don't want to be,
I refuse to be another face in the crowd,
I want to touch people with my actions,
With my words.
When I die
I don't want to be 6 feet under ground
With a face nobody will remember
And no difference made.

Heroes are
parched
for a good
story, searching for
the ending in a bleeding
sunset, while the
damsel in distress
is a prayer
the hero
will never pray.

We are the ruins of
our ancestors, and
because of that
it is sometimes hard
to feel
alive.

We cannot be taught to bury
time, but within us are
thousands upon thousands of stories
piled high like ruined castles
where we might find some magic
power
that comes close enough
to touching the sun without
an aftertaste of ash.