She wanted to blow a hole
Inside the temple of tomorrow,
Ripping the facade of false hope,
Shattering dreams she cannot borrow.

"Tell me! Accept me! Forgive my weaknesses!"
The screams of a soul torn apart,
A monster forged in the furnace of hatred,
Their abuse painted across her heart.

Only the burn of chemicals calms the beast,
Trapped in the past, never released.
Another hit to muffle the cries,
But demons resurface as the high dies.

Death whispers with a silencer's breath,
Golden child lies in the shadow of death.
She, the unwanted, she, the broken,
Rage withdraws where words are unspoken.

He never fought them, never stood tall,
Just smiled as she crumbled, watching her fall.
"Look in the mirror, who will save you now?"
Her reflection screams, but she doesn’t know how.

Comfort carved in the lines of her flesh,
Destruction's lover, her only caress.
"Don’t leave me all alone!" she cries,
Echoes of pain through empty skies.

A child estranged, silent and cold,
Unaware of the horrors untold.
She bears the weight, the scars of despair,
A temple in ruins, no one left to care.

So she screams to the void,
To the gods of tomorrow,
Take her sorrow, take her sorrow!
But they leave her hollow.

No soft lullabies for this rage,
no bedtime tales for the scars.
Her rebellion, a waltz in combat boots,
spiked with grunge, venom, and a scream
that split the dawn like broken glass.
No lowering of voices—
it was them who whispered ******
while she carried the weight of silence,
their pills clutched in cold fists.

Madness was no surrender,
no white flag to psychiatrists
and their bottled truths.
She danced instead,
barefoot with demons that knew her name,
their laughter a dirge,
their touch as real as chains.

Words slithered into mirages—
truth, lies, all indistinct,
a love once pure now shadowed,
a muse now bound by sleepless nights
and post-traumatic hymns.
Our Lady of Sorrows bled for a flock
that prayed in her shadow,
kneeling in borrowed guilt.
But when she bled,
no one looked.

Plans drawn in whispered ink—
a razor’s edge,
a promise of release.
Love, a phantom now,
its face distorted with time,
matured, stretched thin by distance.
The scream of silence grew louder,
and demons conversed until the sun rose,
its light bruising the horizon.

She was no saint.
She forgave no trespasses.
But as the dawn burned anew,
there lingered a pulse,
a faint rhythm of hope—
love not redeemed,
but waiting,
coiled like a spring
for the next dance.

i got my picture back today

and even though i just sat quietly
in a corner of my room
with the blinds shut
and the door locked,
even though i stared at the ceiling,
breathing in and out, in and out,
and came to terms with it,
even though i convinced myself i'd be okay,

somehow my skin looks ready to be checked out,
my eyes are two overfilling ponds,
somehow my voice chokes and croaks,
somehow my fingers have stained the carpet

and there's this girl in my head
and she's screaming
and i would give anything to make her stop
stop digging at her cells
stop burrowing into her DNA
stop exhuming her genes

i will always stay this way,
i wish i could tell her.
i will always stay this way,
and it's pointless to think otherwise.

he tore, he wore and ran to me, and tried to eat my brains

the sun and fun that came before, were drowned out by the rains

he left my guts spilling out and a hole inside my head

he left my heart spilling out and left me lying dead

the life that once was part of me had been turned down to scraps

it melted down and seeped out through the earth’s loving cracks

he crushed my light pink lungs and i gasped out a last breath

he gouged out both my eyes, now with the haziness of death

he threw my body to the lake but i floated to the top

blood spilled out of my body but i floated to the top

few citizens of the town saw me floating away that night

but they didn’t report the body, too much of a sight

they blamed me for the fact that i was there, floating dead

they assumed that it was me, with the hole inside my head

upon my blood full of justice, fully full of red

upon my eyes full of revenge, fully full of dead

I have been to the depths of madness,
Yet I haven't lost my sanity.
I cling onto it like a mother
clings to her child's dead body.
I have seen my worst selves resurrect and being crucified
Under the weight of all my sins.
Yet, I have never willingly committed a crime.
Like the wooden dock at a port that holds all ships
from sinking to the wrath of the ocean currents,
I have harboured my evil
deep within me
With great power and diligence.
It's a quiet storm raging inside me.
My insanity threatens to spill out
to the edges of my constraints,
blurring the sight of blood on my hands.
For a tiny moment, my smile changed
giving way to something sinister lurking
in my soul.
And then it was gone like a fleeting wind
moving swiftly to a distant land.
But the wind has seen my self inflicted wounds,
She whispers the truth, she knows me truly that
I am a bigger omen than the crows and the raven.
Two tides clash fighting for control.
Day and night juxtaposed in a singular skin.
All hell is beginning to break loose.
The more I try to mend myself,
the harder the waves rock my ship.
The more I try to breathe,
the more the air begins to drown me.
In order to silence my cries,
it pushes me to a gentle hush.
Silence has never been this loud.
My insanity has never been this dangerous.

Who needs sleep?
Not me.
When silence
Cuts deeper than
Any other knife.
My thoughts
Are pounding
Twisting and turning.
The weight I carry
Unseen ,untold
Grows heavy
In the midnight cold.
The restless fire in me
Too big to hold,
Keeps me awake
Till I shake.
Who needs sleep?
Not me.
Not now .
Tracing the lines
On my thighs
That no one shall
See.
To silence the pain
That I keep deep within .
Even in the dark
I know it's clear,
The path I walk is
Paved with fear.
Who needs sleep ?
"ME!"I scream ,
Gasping as I
Let my mind run
Free...

I remember the days it came so easy
The lines falling into place
With rhymes as sweet as melody

All the pain translated into words
All these tears into lines
What easy days those were.

Many years later
My pain burns silently
Looking for an avenue
But I remember not the language of the pen - the song of the poets

Now, I know blood. Scar after scar to make the voices stop
Slice after slice to make the pain stop
But I feel it. Louder after every cut.
The scars tell of that noise.

Tell me where can I go
What can I do
For this pain to finally stop

The heart and mind speak with one tongue
But for those of the rebellion as in days past

For these wars raged within hypocrisy without
Oblivious to themselves their nakedness

Entrenched and encouraged and flattered
Mutually and smilingly profiting and killing

Never knowing heart and mind always fighting
Their unknown demons within always losing

Following their hearts blaming their minds
Self mutilating, self abused, yet self loving

Proud of their filth encrusted grotesqueness
Mistaking for beauty that unseen in the dark