Nicky Aug 9
Passion in her heart and mayhem in her mind, a dangerous combination, the two combined....
Scarlett Aug 4
And just like the ocean,
the deeper you go,
the more dangerous I am.
They treat me like cowardice
But I survive through them like parasite
They try to feed me fruit and sent me out me paradise
But I caught their whole disguise
They sent me black roses
They fed me bad doses
They give me bad diet
But still I never die yet
My sorrow is their ecstasy
My defeat is their legacy
But I will never let-them-win
I'll stand and die, legendary
I don't give a f*ck about em enemies
I do not care ‘bout their detesting things in any means
I am not fund of uttering platitudes
In stain glass attitude
Soon I'll break those chains
Coz it has cause me so much pain
And when you start making it' everyone will say
That you're walking through a mystic way
But the air severe is but a mere veneer
The cynic smile is but a wile of guile
And when you become an iconic guy,
Your enemies will say "his fame's ritualised"
And when you arranged your lines to entertain them
Your real dude will woo your rhymes like it's Shakespeare's
Coz you did the impossible; you must be sorcerous,
The venon of their mouth compared to a snake is dangerous
But all their malice and hate do not move me
Their gossips and critic will not mute me
I'll buckle my shoe and shoot for the stars
And keep-on aiming for the sky till I die
Miss Saitwal Jun 16
They bruise their pupils with the sharp roses.
They built an empire with fur and sequins.
And lived with poise and jealousy.
Burnt and alive, torn yet together.
The prudent of all, dangerous of all minds.

Survive, said the father
Believe, said the Jesus
as i'm laying down tonight
i think of how exhausting it is to wash you off my fingers
even if it's not like i ever get to hold your hand
or touch you, for that matter.
but everynight i have to wash your essence off my fingers
like trying to get rid of gasoline but always ending up
setting myself aflame. and that despite
knowing how dangerous and hazardous that shit could be
you just couldn't stop because you love the smell of gasoline
that fills up your lungs like pumps of adrenaline
right before the stench of your own burning flesh
chokes you to death. most nights, i wash you off like paint.
you can tell that i'm trying to forget what
i bled after your face appeared on the plain canvass
when my hand automatically reaches up and
perfectly colors your lips, and i couldn't help
but resemble them to pastel pink petals
of the roses growing in royal gardens
and i know i'm fooling everyone
making them believe that such expertise
is achieved because
your bottom lip have felt my gentle stroke when i
don't even know how your lips would feel when they quiver
under a curious and longing touch.
so i watch the colors spiral down the drain.
i watch my hands brush against each other
so intensely, trying to scrub the paint gone even
if it won't go away. even if the blood is clean.
even if i look clean.
how can loving you secretly be ever clean?
i'm scared it will never go away.
i am a painter in my own sense, capturing a glimpse
of something so intoxicating and aesthetically forbidden
then turning it into something tangible.
this is how painters show that their hearts
collapse with just a name
with just a glance not meant for their way.
and they paint what little of the hope
that shouldn't have been there in the first place
and every night. every single night they would aim
tirelessly to turn it into something they could allow.
something that could exist not only in my head.
something that i can call mine even if you
don't know that i am yours
and i knew this because your face
have begun to fill every blank wall
in my goddamn house and i wonder how it is
possible to fall in love with someone the whole world
believes you shouldn't.
they say that when we turn our hands into fists
it is the size of our hearts.
and sometimes after the long hours of painting
i wash my paint-stained hands clean of
an abstract myriad of yellow and blue and black
and red. red for blood. red for love. red for fire.
i wash my paint-stained hands
turning them into fists
so maybe, just maybe
it will be the same
as getting rid of the colors off my young broken heart.
colors for you.
yet i always end up washing them off
with fucking gasoline.
and you still dare to call me 'smart'
i am an arsonist and a painter. i burned while i burst into colors. and were the one that blurred my distinction between the two.
Amanda Jul 20
I became your hidden habit
You tried hard to conceal
You didn't think about
How being a secret made me feel

Was it easy for you
To constantly shove me aside?
No matter how you hurt me
Always came back to your side

Did you like the attention?
The hours given to you?
Enjoy blameful tears of mine
Now I'm glad we're through

Don't mistake me for a fool again
Tired of your games
Know who you really are
I'm not diving into flames
It is the things I desire that which will destroy me in the end
Scarlett Jul 14
Oh how dangerous
my mind has
a reality seduced by danger is
what made her want him more
the passion between them was electric
the way their bodies fit together like
puzzle pieces in the night
she’s addicted to the thrill
and to the evil angel who
wants her to be his forever
Sarah Mann Jun 21
Lie to me.
Please for the sake of my sanity.
For my delicate beating heart.
Tell me that you still love me.
Even if it’s a lie, I don’t want to lose you just yet.
Reassure of me of your undying feelings.
Of your beautiful soul that still cares for mine.
Please, please tell me you still love me.
Just one more time, just for one more night.

Meet you downstairs right?
For Friday night adventures, and Saturday morning breakfasts.
Where did it all go?
How did it all vanish like smoke drifting upwards from a tear in the hatch?
I thought that maybe in some alternate timeline,
That we were going to be the perfect match.
I refuse to believe that I’m mistaken, I’m afraid to be.
Terrified really.
My stomach falls to floor, as I sort through the letters
That you sent to my hotel.
Where did that love go?

Say something, or don’t, I suppose.
Is it really that hard? I’m not quite sure I understand.
How is so easy for you to deceive me
and leave me completely stranded and lonely?
I thought you were so gorgeous when
Those words fell from your mouth.
I knew that every single one was
Dipped in deadly poison.
But it didn’t matter in the slightest.
I was determined to interpret your words as truth.
I would believe in whatever you were to say to me,
In some ways it was dangerous. I agree
The way that I was so toxically
And completely dependent on your existence.

The person I used to be,
No longer needs your false histories
But lies cold and empty
Alone, but looking back,
Honestly, it’s preferable
To the company
Of someone like you,
Someone who’s callous and heartless
And above all
A liar.
Don't really remember writing this, but the emotions behind the words are so real and raw. Last edited May 21, 2018.
cait-cait Jun 18
im there when you want to
rip out your
hair and scream ,

knees on the floor, your face is
in my hands  .

there seems to be glass everywhere
you look
you're crying ,

you can see it.

i dont know who told you i was dangerous --

i can only be so kind .
who has ever thought about how i feel?

when i was little my mom had this vanity that was covered in mirrors and then draped with a cloth, and i have memories of trying to pull the cloth off to see the full thing, and also memories of being on her bed and being able to see myself where there were slits.
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