grace 1d
I've been feeling out of breath lately.
My lungs don't inflate properly anymore.
Waking up is the most taxing task that I have to accomplish on a daily basis.
I've been sleeping in,
And even after I wake up I stay in bed for hours.
It feels like the weight of the world
is crushing my chest.
Like an anvil is being dropped on my shoulders a hundred times a day.
I feel like Giles Corey;
Crushed by the weight of falling rocks.
Rocks that look like people I know.
Rocks that feel like sorrow and death and tears.
Being pressed to death by demons that accuse me of wrongness,
by demons who surround my head with dark thoughts;
by demons who claw at my throat,
tell me to do bad things.
I'm constantly running from the black mist in my mind.
Trying not to be swallowed by it.
But I can feel these shadows on my back,
and what lurks in this darkness nipping at my ankles.
And the more I run,
the more out of breath I feel.
And when I turn to give in to the shadows,
I have no more breath.
I can't inhale, because I've been crushed.
I suffocate; I can feel my soul dying a little,
Piece by piece, it crumbles until I am nothing.
I am out of breath now.
I don't know whats wrong anymore. Maybe everything? Maybe nothing.
Tanaya 1d
I want to stay with the angels,
just a little bit longer.
Till I am one of them,
and they are one with me.
Till I teach them to write
their own destiny.
Till they hear me sing
the songs of the wild,
and twirl on the faraway tune,
write of the loss of a fire,
and fantasize of the sensuality
between my scars and the craters on the moon.

I want to nurture the angels,
to tantalize their demons,
spread their wings
and dance on the oceans,
to smile just right
and give the look half wrong,
I want to show them just for once
where they belong.

And once they start living their lives,
you shall see,
even the angels are but devils
like you and me.
Let me stay here,
and fuse into them my symphony.
Just a little bit longer,
It won't take time, I promise.
Give me a day,
I can make anybody get carried away,
I'm not proud of it.
My veins- diluted with anger;

so powerful; i feel capable of doing anything destructive-

to myself more than anything else.

You see the thing is;

you see my smile everyday,

but little do you see the true emotion behind.

Behind is something much most crazier than you think,

yet inevitable to believe.

Bigger than just a phase,

certainly deeper than just personality,

much bigger than what you know and have been told.

You see-the reality is:

i'm a wreck...

understanding enough- you probably didn't even know.

I cover the other me with my jokes'

with my games,

with my smiles,

with kindness and humility,

and all those lies.

Do you think that it's crazy to not fear death,

but fear life most.

Life lives to play with lives-

we can battle it out,

you'll probably win,

after the powers whisper to pierce the blade through my skin
'we can play the game and battle it out,you'll probably win, when the pistol reaches for my mouth, and the powers whisper to pierce the blade through my skin'
I write this in hasty tones, scribbles senseless
Without sight or sanity, but it must be said,
For the patchwork demon beckons before
Ashen crest moon tonight, today, a tomorrow
Promised to none, a future fitfully gone.

I can hear his grave cries calling, cries
Callus and coarse, cries cripples adore
But the tasteless will abhor, a foreign
Fortitude in fear amass, but alas I continue
To scribe, scout my last withering reason.

Dear mother, I apologise for this treason,
For I should be swift, running to you,
But too much lies behind that ahead
Is a luxury to the ever present now, how
Your ageless creases will anger to this,

The final sacrifice a man of science offers,
Take it in both arms, farm fame from
This terrible tale and cower not to truth
For it is my last willing companion, still
Smiling through bloodied lips, cracked

With moorland crevices, holding heather
And high - but I must not tarry, no, for
It is soon upon me, my patron patchwork -
Soon, yes, can you hear it's songs, long
Said by the tumult tests of the sea sounds -

"I am a blight broken, only by the wind waiting to be found,
For it was lost long ago, in the drowned halls dry below,"

Oh, sweet mother, I can see it now, gaze
Upon marvel and malice, a murder of
The season, birds absent and trees silent
In the swaying grace, gone too long for
Us to remember such a beast, such a
Blight, such a horror that warms the
Cold corners of a tick tick clockwork
Heart, beating miles and miles apart.
You can never run or hide from your greed
Twisted by your tainted hands of sins
For you are not afraid to rise your sword aimlessly

And mercy never crossed your pitiful mind
As you drown the innocent with their own anguish and blood

You have become someone your hateful soul molded
As you rise from the ashes of your once beautiful life
And destroyed the peace of the world

You have caused sufferings amongst the humankind
The world of people you once loved

Living like a demon
So much darkness
And so much numbness

You have lead your own blood lust world
I love Fantasy ♥♥ ^.^
skyler 6d
a sad soul whispers
i wish i never met you
to the demon in the empty room
and it replies
with a voice that flows thick and sweet
almost suffocating
but darling you created me
and it laughs as her tears hit the sheets
and it sounds just like him
you do this to yourself
she can smell his cologne on its breath as it leans closer
he doesn't care and neither do i, no one does
it blinks and it's eyes turn as blue as his
she tries to look away but it grabs her cheeks so she gets one last good look at what she tries to forget
it won't let her forget
he won't let her forget
then it dissipates into the lonely space
but the weight never leaves the air

Jabin 7d
The foundation starts to crumble,

building like a muscle spasm

seemingly suddenly

but the chasm’s not shallow.

A throbbing pulsation,

intensity multiplying

through a fragile vein

where the weak start  to stumble.

There are cracks in the sidewalk,

disjointed like tendon

shouting through the pain

of childhood stained in chalk.

And the moment’s not passing.

The golem’s gnawing,

crushing bone into sand

into dust into hand.

The grinding screeching metal

causing the spark to ignite

the forgotten weeded mind

which fights but won’t settle.

Then the clenched power courses,

telling lies in righteousness

crying, “this won’t end!”

unless you stop it.

But the repletion of madness

tears the blood from the knife.

The throat is open.

The mountain’s vomit

punching holes into families.

The swinging freedom of

unconscious motion

finds a target in innocence

if exists such a myth.

Sweltering demented meltdown

eroding this tail wagging acceptance,

ripping at the skin of freewill,

proving a point.

That monster has no soul.

that demon stares backward,

smiling from the pages

of mankind’s fiction.

“Burn!” he hollers.

Suffer and burn.

You are my children

in the lake of fire.

Only when it dries,

staining the lips of emotion

can those eyes see once more-

there is a person buried beneath.

A man in the devil’s jacket.

A man.
Larri Aug 7
She was the angel who got left behind
During the fall she wasted her time
Singing to the daisies, humming hem to sleep at night.
She watched as the devil, crept toward the innocent being.
She could've stopped him, but she laid down to sleep.
That was the day, daisies withered away.
A girl just like her, fooled by a snake.
She could only watch in, wishing to return.
To the time when she could reverse.
All the pain that would go on, the woman would die.
All because she needed and extra hour of sleeep that night.
Not saying somthing terrible happens if you don't do one little thing. But it's hard to find motivation sometimes, or all the time. Good luck c;
Silverflame Aug 5
They call me the angel child;
and I suppose at some point, I once was one.
But my demons have cut off my wings a long time ago.
Kind of ironic.
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