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Currently listening to Taylor Swift’s
Reputation album & plotting
your death, baby.

snipes Nov 11
These migraines have migrated into mirages
The mirror shows fractals underneath my eyelids

Is it liquor?
Is it the shame?
Is it the voices in extortion?
Have I lost it?
Is it too late?

The immaculate conception
will be an immediate massacre
Broken hearts
can cause migraines
The people scream
The pastor prays
but unfortunately
this mass can’t concur
Is it too late to be saved?
Is it too late to be forgiven?

If this is real
Tell me why
I’m still able
to breathe freely
I just might break the mirror
Open up my eyes
an realize
my reality
is destined
on this distain
The whiskey is spilt
But what does that matter
when you have
given everything up
An start reminiscing
on revenge’s thirst

                                    - From the horror of which is,
                                                             ­                   Fear
                                       ­                                     ~ 2019
that's how they are now...
my soft places once shared with you
sequestered, behind barricades of knowing.

When you sold me out, did you think I would not find out?
My spirit wails at what is lost, the wall between us...
Fire, revenge? Nay, a knife will not assail you--
I refuse to be like you.
theladyeve Oct 24
Blood is the only story I can tell.
For a fragile and damaged brain gives no cure,
and either chooses chaos or new birth.
My soul was the only currency I could sell.

Now I am empty and unleash the monster within.

So, deeply, I fell in love with slashes of red.
I gave no mind to life or death and thus
laid my wrath to carnage, sinning again and again.
And by my mirth, released the hungry wolves.

I was exulted at the sight of them.

After, I traveled to the brink of Hell’s chasm.
Staring into the pit black as obsidian, I jumped.
Torment and misery had been my only companions
and in the face of great heretics, I was welcomed home.

I was born from sin and so stained from the beginning.
theladyeve Oct 24
A funeral is my mind.
Where former lovers
and silver-tongued liars
attend their wake.

I spare no life when I can take.

An invitation from God
is what you’d need to depart.
But there is no God to be found here,
only your grievances and faults.

Stand steadfast and ready,
my reviled lovers and liars.
You’re in my dark abyss now
and you’ve taken your final bow.

Your procession has arrived.
theladyeve Oct 24
We all broke our rules for someone unkind,
Lust and pretty words can make you blind.

Sometimes echoes of past mistakes will slip beyond the dark line,
Do not cling to old memories while making new ones this time.

Begin to trust that your instincts will guide you true,
Decide to choose yourself instead of letting others choose you.
theladyeve Oct 24
In the beginning…
I remember that once I was a calm sea
I had always let others dictate how my life should be
But thanks to you, I’ve awakened to the harsh realities
That the only person who has my best interests at heart is me

You may run your mouth, spew your hatred behind my back
Your trivial nonsense will get no rise out of me
For I am now a wrathful storm hell bent on revenge
So I bring with me the power of lightning and thunder
And with the promise of never returning
I pull you under

Now that you see who I really am
Should you test my limits once again
That will be the last time you ever see the sun
Because I am the rage you created…
And I am done.
theladyeve Oct 24
I am the pretty thing that lives under your house.
You left me there to rot, to be forgotten
like a flower that's never been watered and withers.
So how ironic must it be
to see a single rose bloom from my grave?

I am the pretty thing that stands next to your bed,
watching your chest rise and fall.
I bend down to whisper in your ear
and though you may have taken my voice,
the air coils and delivers my message.
Standing, I withdraw to the shadows.

I am the pretty thing whose face suddenly appears
in the dark space of your twisted mind
where you thought you buried me for good.
Gasping for breath, you wake up drenched in sweat.
You wonder if you're being irrational or going crazy.

I am the pretty thing that came back.
How lovely it is to make you insane!
You look beautiful in that straight jacket,
surrounded by alabaster walls with no windows.
It's only when you’re finally captured that you drop all pretense,
professing that it’s my blood that is forever stained on your hands.

I am now the pretty thing with a dagger in my smile.
Renae Sep 25
Revenge, sounds like fun, sounds like healing doesn't it?
Revenge, sounds like justice, but is it?
Hate is a wall we build within.
That wall reaches the heavens, and revenge can turn everything dark.
The knife that we pulled from our back with revenge, has now stabbed us straight through the heart.
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