feed me poison,
watch me die,
savour while I struggle.

stab me with knives,
hear me cry,
make my screams your favourite song.

cut me up,
bleed me dry,
swim in my tears.

let me go through hell,
in beds of fire, lie
make castles of my ashes.

leave me behind,
and say goodbye,
carry with you a piece of me.

but please.. don't say you love me
only to lie.

i sometimes wonder why you still visit my mood swings,
left in abandoned playgrounds between my chest.
why you still visit even though the slides may only carry you down to somebody like me.
somebody difficult to love,
somebody who cannot tell the difference between crying and laughing anymore.
why you haven't left this soul,
who's bones can't seem to find enough strength to push my side of the sea saw,
who can't seem to move past three poles on the monkey bar,
simply because of the weight on top of my shoulders.
this flesh of complete brokeness that couldn't bare ringa ring rosie,
because at some point one gets tired of always falling.
i often wonder, why me.
why me, with all my chipped paint and countless dents.
why you still visit,
when this isn't the grass on other side that's greener.
because God knows,
i'd understand if you look for a park elsewhere.
a park worthy of you.

I transfer my emotions and feelings
into words
poems
stories

After writing, I cease to feel them.


But when reading them again after eras gone by

I feel the spark of it
a little flashback
like a time capsule
for emotions.