I’ll accept you
If you accept me
If you can endure my stories and scars
And reach through the bars.

You are not alone
In loving with your whole.

Scars in my opinion are beautiful
Not something to be hidden, but something to behold.
Scars have turned a person into who they are today
And without them a person would never be the same.

Everyone has insecurities
That form their personality
Their fears and what bring them to tears
Their mind and what makes them kind
Their heart and what pulls them apart
Individuality
Is what i find most endearing.

So tell me,
All your stories theories and your favorite series.
I’d genuinely like to know
What drives you, what IS your soul?

Complicated?
Differences that make you not like the rest?
I personally think people like that are the best.
Those who have gone through life
And have survived their fights.

Abandoning hope and adopting curiosity
Is a love interest without love
Like shooting yourself in the mirror
The glass shatters but you're likely to find your reflection again in another mirror you'll shoot,
window you'll jump out of
or body of water you'll drown in.
Hope is mortal
and we're all playing god.
Reckless creation and destruction in the heat of passion
Paper thin skin constantly folding in on itself
Crinkling carbon
Oragami organisms
Blood is not meant for bleeding
It is meant for consuming
Destined for an ****
****** by the confusion of the organs it visits
The priest's lipstick
The ******'s subway
The soldier's collateral
The rotten egg
Glistening crimson
Hope is death and curiosity killed the cat.
But you're likely to find that cat again in another mirror you'll shoot,
Window you'll jump out of
Or body of water you'll drown in

Irises I will never see,

Hidden in the light that pours down

Like a painting coated in dust and dirt;

I've only to touch it

Brush them open, see them

The colors

The spectrum.

But in fear,

this I will never do

Or I'll only hold

a broken masterpiece.

To see better is to exist.
To deny better is to deny existence.
Therefore I say
that the cliffrose,
and the empty bottle,
and the blue sky,
and the heat,
and the touch of love,
and the iron of blood,
all
are beautiful.

Embrace all.

And I laughed…
Nobody laughed back
I was laughing alone
There were eyes on me
I could feel a lot of eyes on me
Feeling me up
Lingering on parts of me
Some parts more than the others
The eyes soon got bored
Lost interest in me and my parts
They switched their attention
back to the customary dullness
However, every time a new pair of eyes set sight on me,
it lingered for a while
But they soon joined the rest
Eyes, many eyes, lots of 'em
I saw them looking
I sensed them looking
They wanted reason
They wanted a story
They wanted to see more than a happy face
It would cheer them up
Helped flush the blandness in?
They dug it out of my laughing face
while I was still alive
I didn’t have a reason now
But they didn’t care
They made it up
Each pair saw a different story
Some were similar, others distinct
Some saw varying proportions
of tragedy and insanity,
while others saw total madness
Some shared their imagination
while others kept it to themselves
Eyes, I wondered,
were funny little organs
They compelled the mighty brain
to think about what they saw,
every time they saw,
and they never stopped seeing.

They say,
"Curiosity killed the cat"

I prefer to think:
It's the demand for fact
Which deprived the cat

l.v.s

It rained when she left.
I didn't even love her.
So why did it rain?

wondering
how do they tell
at night