So long have I been filled with doubt,
Too afraid to let pour out.
But tonight, in the midst of the storm in my spirit,

I curse your name and all that you are.

Hollow and fake.
You're no "give" and all "take".
When you speak of your life,
I can feel my hair turning gray.
I despise what you are.
I loathe what you say.
But what disgusts me the most is what you do everyday.

Liar. Sham.
You were all along.
You'd cut your own arm off before admitting you're wrong.
Prideful. Ungrateful.
You reek of greed.
Unable to distinguish what you want from what you need.

Selfish. Vain.
Quick to point a finger.
But when you are selfish,
You're the last one to linger.

Continue your fascade. Maintain the charade.

Karma's almost here and you're in the way.

MAY YOU BE BLINDED NOT BY LOVE BUT BY MY HATRED THAT YOU WILL NEVER GET TO SEE THE DAYLIGHT OR ANY GIRL'S SMILE

MAY YOU LOSE YOUR SENSE OF TOUCH THAT YOU WOULD NEVER GET TO ROAM YOUR HANDS OVER ANY OF THEIR SKIN

MAY YOU TURN DEAF AND NEVER HEAR THEIR SWEET VOICES LURING YOU INTO THEIR TRAPS

MAY YOU LOSE YOUR NOSE AND NEVER SMELL HER VANILLA SCENTED SKIN AND THAT THEY WILL ALL DESPISE YOU FOR LOOKING LIKE VOLDEMORT

MAY YOU NEVER LIVE A NORMAL LIFE AND CURSE YOU, AND YOUR LOVE LIFE

MAY YOUR WILL BE ILL WITH MY SCORN FOREVER AND EVER

You bury all your problems,
beneath sunflower beds
and your back porch.
Cause the sun will take your sadness,
and drown it with its warmth.
And you'll sweep off the front steps,
shake out the welcome mat,
hoping he'll come inside.
And perhaps he will stay awhile,
and hold you through the night.

Brown eyes
so sad
and
broken

Snowy skies
that reflect
in
them

Too cold
or
too numb
to tell

She's dressing up like an angel,
with wings on the corners of her eyes
and a halo around her neck.
Glitter-glossed lips to lock in a smile,
tightly winding a dress around her hips;
she's dressing to forget.
There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

And she's got a tremble in her fingertips,
her pulse pressing against her skin
as she stares at the creature in the mirror.
Two dull eyes with a sad silver lining,
and a broken blush upon her cheeks;
she's seeing things that aren't her.
There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

And she exhales tired sighs,
with failed wishes and last minute hopes,
letting it all die away with the rest of herself.
Because her mother never taught her love,
and her father never showed her what's right;
only leaving her to fall into the dangers of the world.
*There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

Pen and paper,
meet again,
in sweet love,
do they blend.
***** words of
dreamer's desires,
forming a book,
for cupid's admirers.
Pale thin skin,
covers
with ink's loving,
as the writer's heart
keeps on beating.
Even though this love
may stop at some time,
stories will always be,
a writer's valentine.

I tried watering a plant to find it was already dead
She spoke to god but found out his voice was only in her head
I cut my hair in hopes of reinventing my appearance
She sliced her wrists in hopes of losing her existence
I sang songs to the ocean hoping someone would hear me
She tied a rope around her neck trying to set herself free      
I washed my hands in hopes of making them clean
She often wonders what it's like to be buried 6 feet deep
The thing about death is that it's always on our minds,
It's just a matter who's ready for it and who's wishing for more time.