The point of pain
is to get you to notice
if your trigger warnings
to flee the scene.
And what’s that saying?
You want to see a victim
without help.
Who is the one snickering in the corner
pretending one didn’t eat all the cookies
leaving one’s neighbor to starve.
I see your passive headlights.
Super-flu-us of your own designs.
You only wish you could get to me
so you try to take my place instead.
How can one take another place
before finding one’s own?
Or supplant another’s home
without upending your own?
Foolish child hiding one’s own true heart
to be seen as a star
by putting on stuff that appears like stardust
blingy and bright but without any real light
of its own being created pure and supreme.
Somehow I see I’m already living the dream.
But you look and see
your projected screams onto me
and you can’t embrace what I bring
because what would that make
what you invested in saying?
Hold onto those words
to the bitterest ending
pretending the darker the chocolate
the better the berry.
It’s all finer still in the end
cuz no end is ever approaching
except the end you imagined for me
in your own dark hidden and ***** corners.
But what you don’t get
when you **** that trigger happy smile
is that the end is only real
from your own POV.
So you’ll be mulling
and overturning
with a smirk and clinked glasses
while I am always
and forever
only reposing in bliss
that you keep forever missing

I fell in love with her
not like a lover
but a soulmate.

I wish not
to taint her skin
with my touch,

but rather
admire her forever
from afar.

there comes a time where
everyone moves on
two steps; one
one step,
three.
but i suddenly am starting to think.
i need to move on
and take 18;

A lot of people are quick to give up on me
Feeling trapped in a world of darkness
It’s hard to see it’s hard to speak
I feel like I’m talking but things go silent
If I’m gone by tomorrow who would really care
I’m there for everyone else
No one is there for me
Sometimes I wonder is my life meant to be
Why do the good ones go through so much pain
Weather the storms push through the rain
I could sit here and let everything get to me
I choose not to and turn my hurt into poetry
Hoping to inspire anyone and everyone
This is only the begging I’m far from done

Cry to me; cry with me.

You know you can. 

When you are with me.

You’ll just be whom I see.

I’ll ignore the image I may have of you.

Even what the world thinks of you.

Good, bad, ugly — who gets a say in that?

I’ll even take evil if it comes as truth.

Look into my eyes,

Strip to your soul.

I promise I will have no filters.

I see you as whole.

There is an unasked why to each what.

Something has led you to this rut.

So, cry! Be angry! Shout, scream, and yell!

I know you want to, I can tell.

When you are with me, it's a deal.

You don't need to hide what you feel.

The world is fond of liars.

But you stay true to yourself.

Live what is now, it won’t be back.

Live what is real, let’s not pretend.

I see in you a reflection of my lost soul.

May be you will find yourself in my stroll.

That's the soul connection we have...

she was a caring girl
she knows a boy who always cries
and it is the end of january
so his hands are covered in blood
she gives him soap that smells of lemon
and she scrubs his hands clean
he makes her feel uneasy and anxious
but cleansing him is the only thing she does right
he fills her head with steaming tar
and leaves grisly scars over her eyes
damaging her sense of vision
she washes his eternally blood-stained fingers and palms
the blood mixing with lemon soap and tears
completely blind to her own tarnished hands
sobbing, the girl reaches out to the boy in utter darkness
only to find empty air meeting her fingertips
it will only happen again at the end of february