Skyla May 30
I know im hurting you,
I can see it in your eyes.
But I wouldn't know how
to stop, even if I tried.

I'm frustrated with life,
and just learning to walk.
I've asked you before,
but please, can we talk?

My mind is so violent,
like the rapids of Teesta.
Speeding too fast,
it resembles a cheetah.

Please, tell me I was not wrong
this whole time.
Because when I look at your smile,
I mean no crime.

I just want to know,
I'm curious, you see?
If I'm not showing you
the care you need

Then what is keeping you,
from not loving me?
Skyla May 30
We wear our
scars
like they are
victories,
but in reality they are
proof
that we have
failed
Skyla May 28
With a story like mine,
you could write a book.

The lines would be red,
filled with hatred and pain.

Nobody would see the plot twist
from a million miles away.

The once trusted figure,
so pure and good.

Now the criminal villan,
smiling with her knife.

But it wasnt a knife
that I saw that night.

It was something worse,
to scar my eyes.

But I'll never know how
the story ends.

The cliffhanger of the century,
headlines would read.

But it's all because of the
lack of leads.

And at the end of the day,
it would be marked fiction.

With a story like mine,
you could write a book.

But nobody would believe it,
so why bother?
Skyla May 14
There comes a time in everyone's life where they must make a decision

Life, or death.

Many pick the latter, most don't.

How I envy the people who have such strength. To continue on without question.

Let me ask, if I may.

If everything seemed to go wrong, and the pressure to be okay continued to push further and harder, would you eventually break?

Your legs aren't strong enough to carry the weight.

And yet you do it anyway.

But for what?

Excuse my ignorance, if you could.

I'm just dying to know what keeps you living.
Skyla May 14
Low
Drowning
Rowning
Owning
Wning
Ning
Ing
Ng
G
Skyla Apr 18
The ink drips off my pen
so much to say, too much to say
Will I ever get my words out?
She's watching me
Watching my pen dance across the page
if only she knew
these hatred filled lines,
they're all about you.
Skyla Apr 18
I wrapped my arms around her for the last time.
If  I had known the events that would take place as I worked,
I would never have let her go.
But I did

That night seemed normal, so normal.
The smell of the coffee I brewed smelt delightful,
although I was almost certainly allergic.
The smells around made me hungry,
as if I were starved to the bone.

Glancing at the clock, I noticed a hard three more hours of work.
I was almost free, just hang in there.
When would my break be?
Gosh, I was hungry.

That's when she showed up,
the police officer.

There had been a family emergency,
my head began to spin.
I had to go with her for questioning,
the tears fell without warning.

My thoughts roared,
my brother was in the back seat.
Where were we going?

The accusations, not against me,
but the person I trusted with my soul.
What would become of us now,
four unwanted children.

My father arrived hours later.

Stripped of everything I thought I knew,
drained of any colour in my face.
We left.

Everyone offered support,
but it sounded like murmers with my drowning ears.
I had nobody, I was nobody.

The month after that was easy,
my feelings left two days after.
My being became numb,
my soul committed suicide.

All I was left with, was an empty carcass.
A soulless husk wandering through the halls.
Would I ever feel the same?
I wouldn't know.

The walking dead are real.
They're everywhere.

You don't see them, usually.
They're the happiest.

They're able to make jokes, to smile while hurting.
It's no superpower, they've simply died.

Soul crushed,
Heartbroken,
Brain damaged,
Hurt.

That's us,
that's me.

The living

— The End —