I still try to make something make sense
But it feels like I'm pressured to be perfect
How I talk, speak, write and feel
It must be so flawless it's surreal!
What I really am doesn't matter
I'll drown out my fright with my own laughter
People will hear it, and they'll never see
An imperfect girl inside "perfect" little me
I'll do whatever it takes since you're so insistent
I'll make myself be like you, even if I seem hesitant
You want me this way, so the real me's locked away
And the pressured perfect that you want is here to stay
She might’ve dressed to impress
She dressed to the nines all the time
But can’t you read between the lines
Couldn’t you see the signs?
And see the way she shines when she,
Gets that feeling,
The feeling when she looks in the mirror
She doesn’t give a shit about anybody’s opinion
She doesn’t want to be one of the world’s minions
Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you
You say she’s a slut, she says she doesn’t give a fuck
But underneath her bones are breaking from the sticks and stones,
Her heart is hurt from those words that were supposed to not hurt
But when you fuck with her, you fuck with me, and trust me
In the end you will have wished you never called her a slut
You,
She has problems of her own
She doesn’t let them show
She doesn’t want to seem weak, so she doesn’t speak
But on the inside she’s crying, and that shine is dying
The feeling of looking in that clear mirror
But in the end
You called a dead girl a slut
They say she hides,
Under the cover of darkness.
Where the moon lily blooms,
And the river whispers back.
They say she hides,
And she'll never reveal,
What makes the woodpecker knock,
Or where the evening loons shack.
They say she hides,
But you'll hear her giggle
Though you must never follow
The sentients that guard her will undoubtedly attack
They say she hides,
Although they say she once played,
In the springtime meadow,
Where there once grew lilac.
They say she hides,
And she cries to herself,
For no one cares for her home,
The heart of humanity is black.
© Molly Shore
I have always worked hard
But never found work hard
Never before
Has it felt such a chore
My job is engaging
But I'm changing
I feel I'm a pale reflection
A mere fraction
Of me is present
I'm absent
My mind is elsewhere
Struggling to care
I used to care
It made it easy to be there!
This apathy
Is draining me
It's exhausting to smile
Too much energy required
I'm shattered before I arrive
Just trying to survive
I never used to pray
For the end of the day
What used to be easy
Now takes all of me
Shouldn't be this hard
It's like I'm swimming through tar
Empty of everything
Not just energy
Empty of all the things
I need to be me
To be here
And I fear
You'll see what I'm thinking
On the brink of sinking
Can't trust this shell
Can't tell
If you can see
The battle in me
Do you know what it takes
To be this fake
I'm angry through and through
While I'm smiling at you
This facade is tiresome
Back in the rhythm
Have you heard my sarcasm
I'm so numb
Detached and chained
Deranged but refrained
A turbulent storm
Has my insides deformed
This dusty barren show
Takes every ounce of strength I own
I can only hope
That no one really knows
But I wish they knew
Just how few
Pieces of me
Are left trying endlessly
To be all I was before
But with the passion of a corps
It's torturous, agonising
This hollow chattering
Exhausting, debilitating
Laborious, my patience is failing
Back to the grind they say
It never used to grind this way!!
I have no words
in my mouth to say
they take shelter
within my heart,
hiding in the darkest place
I have no voice
to call your name
this burning noise
chased it away,
cannot put out the flame
my lips are dry
my bones are thin
tears blind my eyes,
cut into my skin
my core has closed
starved of your soul,
my words have died
my voice is cold
your name
sleeps in stone
As a child I'd dream of running away,
Nigh unto winter and not too far,
From Dad’s and Mom's, where I used to play
But which was now bitten hard.
A barn in a field was just one dream,
An old one where no one ever came.
Delight by myself, attainable seemed,
Where I could rest and collect my name.
Russet woods and graying woods,
Fueled fantasy and desire,
For simple things must do some good,
In corrupt towns, soul is renewed by fire.
There.
That look of disbelief.
But yes, I am. So I'll be brief:
I am an actress.
"What?"
I know, I'm really not the kind
of girl that quickly springs to mind
when people think of those inclined to say
"I am an actress."
"But..."
I'm quiet, self-reserved and shy,
that girl who never seems to cry,
the one who never meets your eye, but yes,
I am an actress.
"How?"
Because you think this mind of mine
is great, that I am sitting on cloud nine.
For though these mangled thoughts creep up my spine,
You seem to think my life is fine,
so whilst my sun appears to shine,
I am, indeed, an actress.
Scattered shavings of pencil led
To line the dusty floor.
Sketched art instead of words unsaid
Sleeping behind closed doors.
A sillouette in graphite lines
Surfaces in the dark,
When light shines out and down again
The creature does embark.