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Alaina Moore Mar 2013
Plagiarism of worthless ideals,
that you so ignorantly hold high.
Shaking in amazement,
how can you call your self alive?

Totalitarian, lethargic lifestyle.
Ignominious displays of disaffection.
Constant contradictions;
out of your mind.

Caught up in the clouds,
cognition of mania and level debauched.
Up to high to realize, you're an “open mind” with locked doors.
Maslow, Skinner, and Darwin alike, turn in their graves,
over your lack of evolution.
Alaina Moore May 2018
You do not
****** me,
high as hell,
give me a bunk apology,
and six months later
turn around and change the facts.
Cause they're ******* facts!
I was there,
with your unwelcomed touch.
He walked in to my rescue,
while you dry ******
on my couch. (burn it)


For the record, I don't own that couch anymore.

Alaina Moore May 2018
You can think whatever you like.
That’s the freedom of thought.
Experience leads you to perception,
so let me tell you stories about

There was once a time
where we were at odds,
and our spirits acted as
poles on a magnet.
I tried hard to turn myself around
but I ended up in an uncontrolled spin.
Ever gaining velocity
from your push.

There was once a time
where you were deceitful
and purposely put me in a situation
where I had to keep quiet
about your pathetic inability
to have an ounce of self-control.

There was once a time
I coddled you in a moment of pain.
I sacrificed my focus,
for your feelings,
as friends do.  

There was once a time
where you invaded my personal space
without permission.
Too intoxicated to remember
but vain enough to run from the truth
of your unwelcomed actions.  

There are many times
when the words that flow
out of your mind
and to your mouth
are convoluted, primitive
thoughtless, and egocentric.

There is now a time
where I do not call you friend.
When the veil has been burned to ashes,
and all that remains
is the same exact person
you claim to have slayed.
****** predator, pathological liar,
selfish, and narrow minded.

People never change.
To quote Eminem " ever occur to you that I still have pictures?!"

"I am not the one with whom to ****" - Aliens
Alaina Moore May 2018
Shell shocked
through the day.

by nothing less
than my own mind.

Mind's a hollow black room.
Cacophonous symphonies
echo off the walls.

I want to rip my hair out;
my skin off;
Dissolve entirely.

Once was balanced
now I hang on the pendulum.
Waiting to fall into graves once filled
Alaina Moore May 2018
Perceptions, like opinions,
are often set in stone.
Established like law of the mind
they are easy to create and laced with fallacy.
Even the widest gaze cannot see everything.
Through each strangers eye
a new “you” is manifested.
Thousands of “you” running through their minds,
but none of them are… you.

You are the master of your creation.
Based on your reality
you must adapt to cope with life.
For some the burden is less than others.
The spectrum of content and discontent
lay within the realm of perception,
and the inevitable unknown of external factors.

I once had a perception of self
too highly influenced by those around me.
Whose perceptions I foolishly held on to as truth,
for lack of a better understanding.
I self-destructed into everything
they wanted me to be.
Disingenuous and jaded
I shattered from the lie.

There is an unmistakable familiarity
with rock bottom
that I have grown to welcome as home.
The fall down is vigorous,
hitting the ground hard enough
to knock every molecule of air
out of your lungs.
You lay there breathless hoping that
perhaps this is the crescendo.
Once you decide to breathe again
you can rise up.

From the outside I am not a strong person,
about as average as they come.
I have an inexorable burden
that you cannot see.
Yet another perception
only I can perceive.
What I must do to appear normal
is utterly exhaustive.
Compile daily responsibilities of a “normal” person;
I have to sprint to compete with those walking.

In the shadows I can show the pain
but in the light I must remain in character;
an actor on a stage.
The endless mind acrobatics
twisting and pulling myself to fit this mold.
A mold I was never made for,
so it hurts to obey.
As much as it hurts, I remain silent
about the realities of it all.

Whilst I adapt to my environment,
you call me weak.
As I pretend I am not in pain,
You note I am behind.
I pour my energy into your sorrows
You consume, endlessly.
If I ask for this treatment in return
You point to my condition,
Note your perception of unsuccessful,
based on a reality
you’ve manifested
for me.

My reality is one only I can see
however, that doesn’t change the impact
of the failure nomenclature.
Comparing me to you or any other
encumbers my progress.
Your lack of understanding
is not my duty to teach you.
My façade is not for entertainment
it is for survival.
I wrote this reflecting on a toxic friendship and a toxic past. I have a nervous system condition (fibromyalgia) that is often dismissed as being over dramatic, attention seeking, etc. When the reality of the situation is simply that I'm in a lot of pain, and I am doing my best to not lay my burdens on others. If I were honest about how I felt people would stop asking. This poem is really just a reflection on many things - most importantly. Those whom are close to me not recognizing the struggle because, I suppose, I am too good of a performer. I spend, or have spent previously in life, a lot of energy and time trying to help those I care for. Recently I have noted that many do not do this in return for me, and if they do it's rarely comparable. Given that my energy is barely existent, to invest in a relationship with no return is detrimental to me, and at this point in life no longer an option. This poem is me venting about over a decade of struggle to cope with this condition, me venting about how I feel that no matter how hard I push myself, for some people it will never be good enough. So perhaps this is just me trying to find peace with that.
Alaina Moore May 2018
Dishonorable, repugnant, grotesque.
Words highlighted, bright,
In correlation with your actions.

Gristle filled morality.
Chewing on the facts;
Unable to digest.

Audacity to ask
For cruel silence.
Allegiance forcibly chosen.

Claws against ribcage
Something's trying to escape
You put in chains.

Thoughts off the edge
Falling in circles
Crashing on pikes.

Hands clinched tight
On brittle strands
Of ***** blonde hair. snap

A cowards lies
Tattooed on my bones
"Approved eyes only."

Can't breathe
Atmosphere is toxic
Gassed by friendly fire.

Status quo upheld
Smile, pretty white teeth.
Ready to rip out.
Alaina Moore May 2018
If you think you're irreplaceable
You are sorely mistaken.
I can pay for a therapist
When I need someone to talk to.
I can pay for a masseuse
When my muscles scream.
You are nothing to me by blood,
You are among the family I chose.
And I can choose to separate from you.
I don't need you.
You need me.

— The End —