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Night creeps along like a thief in the night,
Stealing every last penny from my saved-up dreams.
Self destructive tendencies that lurk deep within me.
I've been suppressing them so long and I couldn't hold them back any longer.
They come out kicking and screaming.
They have my inner child hiding beneath the dining room table, waiting out the night, waiting for the storm to roll over.
But it doesn't end there, it's just the beginning.
Now that it's unleashed who knows when I'll diminish
Into this abyss of my soul, eyes wide open, feeling every inch of bittersweet rage ******* inside me.
All I wanna do is rest my eyes and feel the peace of the dark night, but they won't let me.
Instead, they take a piece of me with them after their finished, and I'm left here more empty than the night before, on the floor, gasping to breathe the oxygen that I'm so blessed with to endure.
What do I feel right now?
What does this tired heart desire?
Have you ever longed to pour your heart out to someone, but instead you remain silent behind a smile?
I give you a hug, I shake your hand...
But behind these eyes there's that fear of self-loathing pain is ingniting, and as our fingers touch, I tell myself to run away, but we interlock and there's no way I will ever get far enough away from you to forget your face.
How could you do this to me?
Kat Luebke Oct 2014
if only you knew, what kind of shape you left me in
a body wasted away to nothing.
nothing but an empty shell,
filled with heartache and sorrow.
ultimately a self-destructive mess
left to fend hopelessly on her own.
you had always said you needed me
time after time, night after night.
you made me blind
not realizing the extent of how I had come to depend on you
I believed you
you had once said you needed me, to survive.
but now that you are gone
I am the one who needs you
I am the one close to pulling the trigger.
you are the one with light in your eyes
and another in your bed.
Clindballe Sep 2014
Grew up shaking hands with the iron.

Making a thousand diamonds shine on the floor.

Screaming over the voices inside.

Bruises and marks behind locked doors.

A game of play and pretend had begun.

Teddybears and sharp knives do not match.
Written: September 8. - 2014

— The End —