Having been referred to on multiple occasions as being “depressed”, I am offended. Every time. Having a chronically macabre state of mind and being drawn to a melancholy atmosphere and writing does not make one depressed. Or a psychopath. It does not mean a person is on a journey to being a serial killer or committing suicide. Some people, such as myself, just happen to find comfort in things deep and meaningful. While some comedy, joy, and love is to be revered and enjoyed more sparingly the sad, twisted, and horrid truths of the world can uphold a better sense of completion, joy, and love. This does not make one depressed or mentally ill but perhaps just more...... thoughtful.
Sturdy as a titan is the oak off in the yard Stuck strong and deep in the mud, with the permanence of a mountain ridge There wasn’t a force of man, nature, or God that could catch her off her guard Until one golden morning came to pass, which started without a hitch, Only this time an army of tiny fellows were summoned to follow, And there they were, a pack of carpenter ants ready for a momentous feast, Eagerly and with ease, turning the impenetrable oak completely and utterly hollow.
He loves his boy drunk, and in the dark. The scent of fresh spirits clinging to his tongue as he whispers his insecurities into the shadowed night. His hands wrapped around the fragile boys arms, even though they shouldn't,
because this boy, his boy, is too bright, too precious to loosen the grip he has. While he is made up of stolen cigarette smoke and bruised knuckled smiles, the love he has conjured up is beyond magic.
He lusts his boy sober and dawn breaks through the curtained room.
Coffee engulfs the narrowed hallways and the creaking wooden board is the only sound heard besides soft snores. He looks away from the paled soul, loosens his touch and each time he gets up and leaves, he breaks both their hearts. don't you know you can love him with the lights on too?
As the moonlight illuminates the room, I lay here awake trying to remember you But after ten years, the image has seemed to fade Seemingly, there is nothing left for me to view
What color are your eyes, and are they anything like mine? How do your lips curve, and are they ever adorn by a smile? What is the simple shape of your face? I ask myself these questions as I try to fill in the canvas that is blank.
I would not be able to tell you the sound of your voice. I cannot mimic the pitch of your laugh. Or explain to to others if you talk with your hands. All your habits have been erased from my mind.
After ten years, I am left here to wonder why things are the way that they are. I wonder why you never said a word of goodbye I wonder if you would recognize me if you saw my face. But mainly I wonder if you would speak up if you saw me passing by.
Quickly, my thoughts lead me to realize that if I do not remember you, how are you supposed to remember me? How beautiful it would be, and meaningful to me to have you remember piece of me at all.
Mistakes happen One's good and One's bad Sometimes you won't know how to fix them They rip and tear until all that's left is memories And beyond repair so much that you can't even be fond of it
When they happen You feel all down The friendships seem to start to crumble You watch it one by one All fall apart Until all that's left is a knife, so sharp
Mr Mistake will grab the knife, and slice you up Once it's finished you'll be covered in scars Scars on your arms, scars on your neck Scars all over and even in your chest These scars will last forever even if no one can see them
Mr Mistake is ruthless you know Sometimes I feel like it's pulling me further and further down It grabs me and scratches at my ankles And when it's done I'm 6 feet under
Mr Mistake doesn't care He doesn't care if you can't breath He does stop to let you weep He does everything indiscriminately And he'll make you feel like you're trapped
But Mr Mistake is one who does have flaws You can pick up what's been torn When done right you can fix what's broken Even when tape and glue has fallen
Just remember that when Mr Mistake comes, not to panic But realise he's here and try to fix it Mr Mistake will go away with time But can come back when you think you're fine
Mr Mistake doesn't care for how you feel But will always stop if you make him yield He can always be beaten and put in his place If only you have the determination to stand up and finish the race