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At the end of the day when there's no one but me & you. When there's no light & just darkness. Underneath my makeup, I want you to be able to see the pain in my eyes. The tears stained on my cheeks. The broken words left on my lips. The hate in my heart & the loneliness of my soul. I want you to see the bags under my eyes from sleepless nights. Or the crying behind my laughs. I want you to be able to touch me without feeling like you have to fix me. But importantly, when I am fixed, I want to be the *muse behind the freshness of your being...
Fix
What are you doing?
Nothing is wrong here, nothing—
Stop trying to fix.
Kevin Hawkins Apr 2014
10/25/12

On a bad note, things did end.
I burned a bridge, but I'd like to make amends.
Can you forgive, not forget?
'Cuz I'd like to begin again.

Clean slate, fresh plate,
Can we just erase the hate?
10/25/2012
Jessy Ivan Diaz Apr 2014
I murdered chances more than three times,
and by definition I became a serial killer.

But how long can a monster reside inside my soul
before I forget that I’m human?
How many more chances must I get
to feel something good?

But my targets never change,
she has to be vulnerable,
weak, and silent.

I try to be the creator
and destroyer,

I help build the foundation to a corpse half dead

become alive,
become strong willed
and strong physically,
and sometimes assist in creating
a voice like thunder.

But I fail to see that putting others before me doesn’t justify the “love” I feel for them. I am no better than the guy who will break your heart in your next relationship.

I **** more good than I create it,
I don’t live for you or I,
I live because the world has
given me reason too.

I feel the energy of death and life,
and I play with both
inside my body.

Yet I can’t keep my mind off of you
and hoping that one day you will see
that I’m Frankenstein's monster
and you’re my creator.

Demons are inside me
as much as angels fly overhead
Fires burn inside my ribs
and consume my belly.

I’m a psychopath
and a writer.

But I’m also a lover trying to mend hearts with pieces of mine.
Q Mar 2014
Such a beautiful soul
That renders my own shocked
And society's freezing it cold
I need to make it stop.

This was a pursuit
This was my normal game
This is what shock is
I want to see you sane.

I'm heartless, without compassion
I'm a sucker for vulnerability
I'm a crow in her prime
And pain is so shiny.

You have company and, god, does she fit you
But you're still breaking, dear.
You're an old soul so tired and weary
But Earth still needs you here.

How dare Life chip at you?
How dare Life bring you down?
And you call yourself weak;
Taking the beating without a sound.

Have you never seen the inherent brightness
That rests just beyond your skin?
See your reflection in
And take your beauty in.

Because I can't comprehend
How you can't see yourself.
With your untainted imagination
When society's blinded by wealth.

I can't say I'm not like the rest
I can't say I differ at all.
But I have the eyes to see a miracle
So I can't let you fall.

You are an oddity of nature herself
That I wanted to capture, to chase.
And through your constant shock value
I now want to see you stay.
At this point, I should just put all the poems of this series into a collection. Should I?

— The End —