lucy 1d
I went for years accepting you as truth.
My conscience never was my own to keep.
Your promises only ever cut skin deep,
You took my mind and stole from me my youth.
Your words are weapons only when it suits,
Demand I jump and watch me as I leap.
You never try to practice what you preach -
You sing of love then aim your gun and shoot.
Daily prayers begged fruitlessly for mercy,
My sins too heavy for my soul to bear,
Forgiveness only temporary relief.
I believed that I was never worthy.
In truth, were you ever really there?
My life was spent just chasing false beliefs.
You're beautiful.
I know it,
But you scowl at such an audacious remark,
How can you see yourself so ill-favored?
The way your face lights up as I approach your stunning features,
Perhaps the world is blind and I am the only one whom sees this unworldly phenomenon,
You still disagree with me, no words, a shake of the head,
I will capture this verdict,
I promise,
Your beauty is complexive,
One glance and the camera in my mind grasps every pixel of your flower,
You duck and cover at the sight of a lense,
Photo albums make your heart vanish,
But why?
You're gorgeous.
I know it,
You don't trust my honesty,
But, you see, I do not intend on settling for a loss, a tie is still a loss,
Those conditioned strands of silk compliment your sky blue eyes, so bright to a squint,
You look away from admirerers,
You isolate yourself from face,
Why?
You're a rose.
I know it,
But why can't you see what I see?
Please,
Take my outstretched hand,
Don't hide from marble puddles,
Don't scratch or splash away your reflection,
You frown at the sight of a passerby, taking in the world,
But again I ask,
Why?
You're Monroe.
I know it,
You actually consider believing it,
Trust me,
These words write for a wild purpose,
You give me reason to touch graphite to this linear plane,
Lined with veins for you,
Don't be nervous,
Look here,
Into my eyes,
Look deep into the black abyss that holds space for you,
Only you,
You're beautiful.
I know it,
No more questions, your heinous?
I smile,
You blush.
Written in the summer of 2008.
You dont understand yourself.
So why should anyone else?

- Said the bird to the bee
Below the my face so serene, I'm every part of the scene;
the crucified, the prosecutor as well the chorus.
When I breath my chests cage shows gaps ,the focus.
Here you are again my parade of pestilence my imbalanced state showing as ailments.
My sides tearing, stress penetrating my skin. Tragic,
Oh how the spear of reproach entangles and dives deep,
Piercing my belly and lets it noxious poison seep.

I beg 'No please do not twist', he then spoke of my dying dreams and loses to the soul.
The knots bind my thought and any move in conciseness has it toll.
The darkness strives for my sight but he knows how to not give it room.
The poisoned tip barley nearly missed my heart , I thought it the end, I relaxed too soon.
The tincture of doubt burns my open sensitive soft non-flesh.
Am I not one of the blessed, where is my place of rest?

The jury spectate from its pedestal, good for nothin but blaming.
His aim was never my life only that which makes it worth living.
His aim was the spark, my soul, the light at the end of the tunnel showing it all, so you don't stay down when you fall.

The earth knows me from My hands, feet and knees.
I rarely pray only spoke if it preceded an action, I fell a lot you see.
Now I walk with caution but my legs can barely take the weight.
My breathing and steps were heavy. you wouldn't have know my pain by my face
This has been my truth I believed it fate.
Early I realized wherever I sat was a throne.
Hubris led me to take on the woes and faults of the world as if they were my own.

The jury clamor great hollow truths, to lessen the sentences existence.
As much as they are valid and grand I see them only as excuses
"You will pain those who you love and love you"
"You will forsake the hopes and dreams in your view"
"You are good, only want the best for everyone "
Was it that ambiguity that lead to my current "wrong"
Seems if you aim to give others happiness you will never win
I know this but I still hurt: it's all starts and ends within.

Woe is me
Been on the darker end of melancholy, A discription of my anxiety/depression attacks recently
What

If we don't do evil
Do we have to pray?
Genre: Observational
Sometimes it takes the sky to open my eyes
To what's shone, coming and wrong,
To what's bright, rich and right
Sometimes in the emptiness of the night
when I lie awake to your choir of snores,
I chase the Devils of idyllic futures and more,
I hear me in them, in laments of glory, such songs,
and watch the warm creep by from feelings thought ever gone,
it ends,
yet when I truly wake to the scarlet rise
through the smog and maze on the horizon
I realize that in the center of concrete bushes,
as the wind of doubt whoosh whooshes,
I'm standing awake in the circle of change and growth
And I've waded through the black sludge of failures malicious moat,
and now I see me
as the dirt's swill stills
and I look upon my face
for the first time without distaste
and know that between this mud
and the roaring horizons blaze
stands a champion here present,
self made.
Look in that mirror and smile a while.
Words can be shallow,
Or they can be deep.
Their meanings may be instant,
Or in your mind they slowly creep.
The expressions meant in the writings,
We don’t always see.
The meanings may be different for you,
Than they are for me.
These words I write and read,
They are the way out.
For all my emotions,
Love, fear, joy, and doubt.
God’s will and way is often,
More than we can understand.
But like the sending of his Son,
He always has a greater plan.
I will keep writing,
Even when there is no one to read.
This is how he works in me,
To fulfill my every need.
Find his spirit,
That inside you already lives.
For there is the key,
To recovery, happiness, love, and all that he gives.
Last night.
You said something silly.
And I almost said.

I love you.

Last night.
I typed the first three letters.
And a bubble popped around me.
And I was drowning.
Because what is happening?
And I deleted the first three letters.
Because I don't even know you yet.
And a bubble popped around me.
And I was drowning.
And I couldn't hear anything.
Because what is happening?

Last night.
You said something silly.
And I almost said.

I love you.

And I don't know what is happening.
And I don't know what to do.
And I'm scared it might be true.
If I gave you a name for every demon in my head. You’d lose count.
Like...

Kayden the sadness.
Kate the anger.
Kirsten the depression.
Kevin the fear.
Kaden the anxiety.
Kade the doubt.
Kerry the rage.

And so on and so forth.

Each day a new person comes out to play a new demon.
I don’t have borderline personality disorder.

It’s just that the demons have ways of taking over.

What happens when they all try to take over at the same time?

                           With love,
                               Anonymous
Tatiana 4d
What happened to my heart
that I now pick every poem apart?
It all feels so manufactured,
words are a glued-together fracture.
I'll be judged at the poetic rapture,
because my heart refuses to capture
the same passion I had at the start.
© Tatiana
Before I start sharing the poems of my little trip I took with my sister, these words popped into my head and it was best for me to get them out asap.
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