Picking up the pieces; slowly, one by one. This time, it will take me quite a while before I am truly done. My life has been shattered once again, but I write my life in pen. What happens, just happens; life doesn't go back. You just have to keep on going, even if you do *****.
When in doubt blame the black man. Doubly so if it rhymes with that man, the ***** man. The cap man, the rack man. We got you on a lock man. Shoot em, **** em, **** em up, all the way up! Till he's nothing but black, man.
*** what could be worse than being black? A half-man. Ubiquitous; everywhere, but fits in with no man. Woman? The last said there's something off about that man.
All I did was swipe right, and now it feels like a wrong turn. "Maybe it's just not your turn yet." Or maybe I'm trying too hard, with nothing but bad bets. Feelings of desperation, manipulation is **** near perpetual. **** it. I'm just tryna get another quotable, man.
my finger traced the cracks and brokenness, found the gaps and incompleteness, while you carefully took each jagged piece and added a golden vein of grace to mark the restoration, creating a celebration within a divine appreciation of this, a broken reflection of my origin, starting and ending with you
Kintsugi is a beautiful thing. Especially when completed on a broken heart.
Addictions are like ******* Everyone has one, and they usually stink Smoke Shoot Snort whatever you need to get you through but... What about when its not drugs? How does she disclose When her scars itch When she's twitching Scratching Looking for something what is it what is it what is it what is it where is it where where where.... Her mind races Her scars burn hot Hot enough to burn her shorts Hotter than her tears There Under the board on her stand Shiny and stolen Mechanical pencils are better anyway She mutters to herself Up goes her shorts Up goes her sleeves 1 2 3 4 5 Dont count, make them even In a line Not like that Her sister gets clean She's left in limbo How could she justify How could she seek help When she does it to herself When it wont make her ***** When it wont make her seize Addictions, everyone has one For her, there's a relapse on the way who knew self harm was addictive
Break your own bones to look the part Your words are poison to your own soul Lies are tied loose at the end So you can untangle them all over again Manipulate those with strings Put ones on those who disobey the queen A sly little devil sat with a crown A makeshift castle made with a frown Throne made of eggshells painted in gold The stench of her pride plague the halls Oh how daring you are, a threat with no promise Your sword and men may break on moments notice Deny you may of the weight of your weakness We see the cracks, the glass breaking beneath it So for now I bow to the ruler of all Who'll fall on her own sword with no one to call
It was a beautiful moment Of dissatisfaction. One where she realized Complacency Does not equate With serenity. That stagnancy Does not yield joy. So she moved, Not only her feet. She moved mountains. The earth quaked beneath her, And flowers bloomed In every *****. And this, She thought, THIS is how it feels To be alive