Feb 2015
love is for the living not for the ones with a dying soul on the inside.
love is for people who can give more than they can take.
true love is only for people with a pure soul and a golden heart.
I guess love isnt a thing for me.
a voice is for the broken ones.
talent for writing is for the lonely ones.
seeing things that arent there is for the people with an open mind.
being able to speak with the death is for the childeren who are already dying.
I guess this is more a thing for me.
we are living in a world where it is important to speak up about your problems.
you need to tell people the things you are dealing with.
but I cant do that without being judged or get called names.
Im not complaining about my hard life. Im not seeking for attention.
that is why I keep my mouth shut about everything that is going on in my head at the moment.
writing is my escape and distracting of the thing Im really wanting to do at this moment of being alone in my room thinking about why are we living on this earth.
thinking about if there really is a god? and if so.. why Im suffering everyday dying inside.
I want him to take me home, but he keeps telling me that isnt an option.
he says I dont understand the reason why Im here yet.
he cuts the conversation off but every night I will try again to get inside his head.
I need the answers.
dont you wish you were not here anymore.
only thing that will remain is bones, bones of stolen diamond.
tears falling down on my mothers knees, wanting me to come back.
but ones you begin there is no way back and we all know that.
there is a hell I have seen it, there is a hell let's keep it a secret.
Im willing to make a change in my life at this moment.
Im just waiting for my demon to come back so I can talk with him about this.
He wants me to cry he wants to see my blood,
He needs it tonight, my blood is what keeps him alive and I dont want him to go.
maybe this is just my sick mind writing.
Demons can make my hell feel like home and I never want to leave it.
being called sick is for the hopeless I am only broken.
love is for people who can give more than they can take.
true love is only for people with a pure soul and a golden heart.
I guess love isnt a thing for me.
a voice is for the broken ones.
talent for writing is for the lonely ones.
seeing things that arent there is for the people with an open mind.
being able to speak with the death is for the childeren who are already dying.
I guess this is more a thing for me.
we are living in a world where it is important to speak up about your problems.
you need to tell people the things you are dealing with.
but I cant do that without being judged or get called names.
Im not complaining about my hard life. Im not seeking for attention.
that is why I keep my mouth shut about everything that is going on in my head at the moment.
writing is my escape and distracting of the thing Im really wanting to do at this moment of being alone in my room thinking about why are we living on this earth.
thinking about if there really is a god? and if so.. why Im suffering everyday dying inside.
I want him to take me home, but he keeps telling me that isnt an option.
he says I dont understand the reason why Im here yet.
he cuts the conversation off but every night I will try again to get inside his head.
I need the answers.
dont you wish you were not here anymore.
only thing that will remain is bones, bones of stolen diamond.
tears falling down on my mothers knees, wanting me to come back.
but ones you begin there is no way back and we all know that.
there is a hell I have seen it, there is a hell let's keep it a secret.
Im willing to make a change in my life at this moment.
Im just waiting for my demon to come back so I can talk with him about this.
He wants me to cry he wants to see my blood,
He needs it tonight, my blood is what keeps him alive and I dont want him to go.
maybe this is just my sick mind writing.
Demons can make my hell feel like home and I never want to leave it.
being called sick is for the hopeless I am only broken.
never change a thing about something you cant let go of.
