You  stuck  in your  judgmental  ways
So fast reload  the gun of  the past
Looking for ways  to cut me down
Words  cut deeper then  a bullet
Lost in  negative  but never  saw  good
I can't change who u are
But  always come  back with this hope
Looking for  sun but only seeing the darkness
Bullets of the past  hitting me in chest
I wish you knew pain in my heart
Mom you are  just walking  in your own world

When the sun slumbered beyond the falling
horizon, a deranged mentor of those it wondered
over below. False expressions were given in tribute
to that which watched with acidic smiles of their  
persecution beneath its gaze.

In its fading they were collected in truest outline.
Negatives of perceived imaginings, pigmentation
descended from form like coloured petals
turning to dust. They were the abattoirs of this
now discoloured imaginings.

Sweetened voices of lullabies were replaced by
disorientated shrills, that reverberated within
the halls, they lumbered in there contorted abodes.
Nesting into corners of despair that blossomed on
them with hues of isolation.

Feasting on warm carcasses, weeping with
trepidation at this momentary freedom they felt.
There home of tattered souls that were cleaved
from prey, no peace in death. They hang at
the windows clinging to lost hope.

Time was a nine tailed mistress that whipped them
into the binding once more. For the arising was upon
them, they were lacerated within colour once more.
All that was flaked away and became as it was.
Smiles on there faces paying tribute to that above.

I don’t know where to begin,
where to start,
or where to end
and where to stop.

I don’t know how to tell you what’s on my mind.
There are so many words missing, words I can’t find.
Because my mind is a warzone, it is a battlefield.
And my shield is broken and my weapons are blunt.
There’s nothing and no one to protect me in a war against myself.

I scream and I scream, and my skin, my voice bleed and I hope I wake up and it’ll all just be a dream. But it’s not, it seems.
I feel shunned though I have been told I’m loved, and that those who’re around me, who surround me love me.

But I find it hard to believe it now.

Time flies so fast for me
or does it stand still, I don’t know.
Minutes to hours, hours to days.
And it’s getting difficult for me to see
beyond the fog that clouds my thoughts, my eyes.
So I put on a mask
And do the impossible task
Of waking up every day
as I struggle to put on the play.

But the problem never goes away.

I slowly start shutting myself out from people,
stop going to places that are crowded
all the while enjoying being shrouded in the dark of my room.

I feel doomed.

I don’t like to cook,
I don’t feel like reading a book.
All satisfaction is gone and
I don’t know what’s wrong.

I don’t enjoy the things I used to.

There’s no purpose for me,
I feel.
No motivation.
Everything is just white noise.
Everything is static.

So I stand here now,
tired and weary,
at a path
so dark and dreary
leading to different directions,
all the while thinking

**I don’t want to exist anymore.

save me
I'm drowning
deep down
this abyss
of hate

save me
I'm dying
not from drowning
but from hating you

I hate you
so much
it kills me

Love was never
the way my parents held hands

Love was never
The look in their eyes at a moment of togetherness

Love was never
meant when the word was uttered at the end of a phone call

But Love was always there
In many ways that I will never understand
She loved him so much
that she would put him before her
even though he never did the same
She loved him so much that she could hardly
utter a word of negativity of him
without backtracking to positivity
Loving him meant
that she got torn down day after day
but didn't hesitate to build him back up
She loved him in a way that tore her apart
She loved so deeply that she would never come back

Danger danger my gears are grinding
My thoughts are cycling
I know what this means
To knowingly choose to engage
In this thought process is to
Accept defeat and to do that is
Unforgivable

'i'm tired,'
i say,
and my mother asks me how, and why;
tells me i haven't been doing that much today.
i don't know how to tell her
that the exhaustion goes deeper than bone,
how the weariness takes my heart in its hold,
seeps into my skull
and settles there.

my art is slow, sluggish;
my writing is a dying fire.
my body is a sunken ship upon my bed
half the time.
my lungs do not breathe, only rattle;
and i?
i am simply tired,
tired,
tired.

Why does quitting have negative connotation
I am drowning mentally
Yes, other people have been in my spot
Yes, others have surpassed my position
I want to quit not because I can't do it
But because if I do
I'll loose myself for nothing
No one will be satisfied
Including myself
I am only 19
And I pray for my death at least 5x a day
Just so I wont be classified as a quitter