You never did manage to see
The final nail on the casket nor
The 9 years it has taken me
To unweave it from my crown of thorns

You say you shout you scream
You could not have foretold
The bullet I held clenched between my teeth
Heavy to the touch, heavy and unbearably cold
Not as I my mouth became a steal barrel,
Not as it came racing out
Not as it came to meet your creased forehead's third fold

I shake with loss
I shiver with relief
My silver armor melts away and evaporates into flesh
The life you had left ahead of you was anyway brief
Unlike the fruits you stole from my long life that once lay ahead of me
An ugly, loud, rampant, hobbling thief

I leave my pills to you
For all the times I failed
Trying bleed your blood out from my wrists
Bullet blown, skeletons thrown, casket nailed
I walk back up the stairs light as a feather
A crested crow, my wings unfurled, a crested crow unveiled

If I’m the villain, then you’re
the origin story.

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

{oops}

Bunkered--
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.