Is it wrong
To wish
That for all the scars I own,
I could reopen just one
To let my demons spill out
So as to cleanse myself
Of the torturing sins
I carry as a weight
Within my veins...
But Alas
That would do nothing
But let more darkness in
...

An imaginary world where anything exist.
One’s imagination it all you need.
To write is to create - an endless possibilities.
Word by word, phrase by phrase, a reality within one’s mind.
A swing of a pen and it shall become.
Line between line, a story is made.
A reality to the characters within.
A world where her story begins.
With the stroke of my pen, I created a world.
A world where my character would live.
A peaceful town, bountiful of blessings.
And thus, she was born - safe and healthy.
Continuously writing with my pen in hand.
I skipped the details until she’s nine.
Grown to be a pretty little girl everyone adores.
But now it has come - it is time to get the story done.
The enticing blank paper allures my imagination.
An empty space where everything is possible.
A swing of my pen is all I need.
And it shall be done, created, thus shall happen.
My hands moved without even thinking.
Slowly and slowly, the conflict will be done.
For out little girl, trapped inside an unknown ground.
Finding her way out, crying while calling for someone.
Seeing this in my own imagination.
I can’t help by to make her suffer more.
It is my story and she’s my character.
Whatever I wrote shall be her fate.
I moved my pen once more.
And make it rain for her to feel cold.
Enlarged the forest, and make her hopeless.
Seeing her dull eyes makes me what to hurt her more than twice.
Hearing her scream with her lifeless voice.
It is nothing but a music into my ears.
I made her more and more hopeless - a chill on my spine.
Slowly taking her life had never this so fun.
As she took her last breath, I feel empty.
I never thought my story meets and ending.
To see my own creation lived until I end it.
I couldn’t help but to think that I would like to switch places.
And now I’m back being an ordinary girl.
To which I am nothing but an average human.
Living in a world where it is bound by rules.
Where I wonder, is there a writer behind it all?
Whoever it may, I have my pen.
That’s all I need to create my ideal end.
A pen that can make anything possible.
A world where I am the character of my own.

A fools tale

They say we are born in pairs. Destined to be loved , destined to spend it with a significant other.
I've seen lovers find each other in the darkest of moments while I found myself alone. I've seen families come together in devastating ruins in a war stricken country but seen mine close their doors on me.
The books of God says we are made in pairs , the bible , the Quran , the Torah all speak of a love conceived in heaven but all I've found is hook ups sent from hell. They say love is pure and kind , I say ******* love is nothing but the door to torture and pain while falling is the key , the key I've so willingly turned many times. They say it's all about time , when the time is right ,when it's meant to be it will be , maybe when I'm dead and gone I'll be brought back as a rose, loved by some hated by others , can't be touched only plucked and given as a sign of love then left to dry away and die because that's all love has ever been to me a dying rose. I've heard them all say they love me , they gave me the same look and then walk away from me. So much for the love at first sight fairy tale *******, all the books , all the songs and movies have it " no one like you baby". Promise after promise I watched them break it but now you what makes you different ? What makes you the one to fix the broken parts and heal the scars that's been carved into my soul by the hot white burning lies it's been fed by the corrupted love it's been given ? nothing , he will come along and smile and then I'll be forgotten because that's all I've ever been the temporary guy , the one before the one. Left to fall and land on my own , the plane takes off but I fly solo. I see no point in putting effort into you or into this because in the end the three letter word will be said and a sappy story of " it's me not you" will be given with false pitiful eyes. Time after time , my faith never wavered but today I have none , none in you or your words, " I like you, your different" I am but you're not. All that's different is the way you'll end up leaving. Call me bitter but I see you here holding hands and looking at each other the way some of us would love to be looked at but all I can say is that blind lovers look at each more lovingly then I have. I envy you , I envy the fact you can wake up tomorrow and be gone and that would affect people , I envy the fact you can sleep tonight knowing that he or she next to you loves you , I envy the fact when I wake up tomorrow all that will be different is a time and day. Be patient they say she will come, yeah she will come but then she will go just as quick. No point in trying , no point in hoping or seeing myself with her in an hour from now let alone tomorrow because sadly my life and your life isn't the same because come tomorrow I'll seek meaning when all you have to do is wake up to one, I'll long for a home that won't ever exist with someone that doesn't exist and you'll wake up closer to it or in it ,only you know the blessings you have. This sounds like some sappy broken hearted fools tale of longing for a lover. It's a sappy broken hearted fools deepest thoughts and broken words of how he'd love to have a person be his person , trust him , love him , be with him and stand by him but like his name suggests his a broken hearted fool who believes in a fairytale that only exists in the world of an electronic box throwing him crafted pictures taken from a page a script written to give him false hope or ink on a page his crafted to be closer to his made up fairytale that he so longs for. And as for you , you aren't here and do you know why ? Because you are the same , you feed me lies give me hope and then ****** it all way , you do what she did ,you make me smile , make me feel , make me want to live again and feel as if I have a meaning ,as if I mean something to you ,if this time perhaps it's real and your words aren't as hollow as my soul. But letting you in will end in the same result ,letting my guard down will be an invitation to new Scars a self inflicted torture but maybe I love the pain , maybe the solitude and sorrow coupled with the torture of an absent lover covered by an illusion of one day sharing a warm home with her had gotten me addicted to the sharp pain of pleasure that tortures my being every time I see lovers love each other. You aren't here to hear this because in the end I am to you what today is to you , just another . My words are your food but the taste buds on your tongue will crave another for that's all I am and will ever be is a phase , a phase never to be loved or wanted.

Picture him: He’s gorgeous, thin, tall, and fair, has soft hair; his soft hair falls on his mischievous eyes. He has a pointed nose which makes him look evil. He only wears black which is his favorite color. Oh, you must see him in black; it makes him look like a mesmerizing poem. Imagine him, just close your eyes and imagine him wearing a black, long leather jacket. His eyes are only on you. When he looks at you, your insides churn and you wanna do the unspeakable things with him. He moves closer to you, smiles, oh that smile, which will make the devil weak in the knees. He is a bad, bad boy you always wanted. He touches you setting your body on fire and slowly gets the knife out to slit your throat.

Melting away down this empty street,
No one in sight and no one to meet.
I'm not okay but it doesn't really matter,
The liquids flowed, and the alcohol stung my mind.
This nicotine rush is what's keeping me alive,
These drugs I have are altering my mind.
Because my happiness is just temporary,
And my existence is only momentary.

Till her scream faded
Inside the temple walls
She had cried o'er a week
And she tried to get help
They came and *****
Tore her cloths off
And never came kindness
She was mere eight
Yet they tore her apart
She was choked
Beaten to death
After they satisfied themselves

Her body was dropped
On the side of the road
Bribery shut the cops
They never talked about it
Let the days fade the scent

Did they ever know?
The world would know the truth
And when it does
It'd be their doom

Good dog Max, always sits and waits
for the dogwalker, who comes every day at  8.
Leather leash around his neck, they go round and round the block,
the same route every day. He’s got no shoes and socks
to protect his padded feet, that were meant for grass and hills,
and there’s no chance to run and fetch a bird his master kills
(though that’s what he was bred for).
And from 9 in the morning, until every night,
it’s the same small apartment, floor of wood and walls of white.
Sometimes they lock him in a cage, so he won’t jump on the bed;
Max sometimes wonders if he’s alive, or dead.
He barks when they come home, and they tell him “shush.”
To hide his shame he gnaws a bone, or gives his bowl a push.
Max, depressed and fat, died before his time.
A prisoner locked in solitary who was guilty of no crime.

I crawl on all fours,
as the darkness descends.
The only light left,
seems to waver and bend.

My hands are on fire,
and so is the floor.
I can see the orange glow,
as it burns at the core.

There is no rhyme or reason,
no discernable flow.
I start to crawl faster,
but I don’t know where to go.

My eyes start to throb,
as my head starts to pound.
Something runs from my mouth,
and drips to the ground.

The copperish taste,
tells me it’s my blood,
and I fall on my side,
with a sickening thud.

I stare into darkness,
and wait for the end,
but down here in the pits,
it’s how each day begins.

They take your memories,
in the beginning at least.
So that each day is as scary,
as the first brutal feast.

Ripping and tearing,
they eat you alive.
Till there’s nothing but bone,
and you wish you could die.

Then it starts over,
and you're crawling again.
Trying to get away,
as the darkness descends.

They gave back my memory,
so I’ll remember the pain.
So I’ll remember the sounds,
that drive me insane.

My side starts to blister,
but the worst has not begun.
I can see all their shadows,
as the beasts start to come.

Ripping and shredding,
my flesh breaks away.
I beg them to stop,
but they do not obey.

An eternity of torture,
is what’s in store for me.
Imagining the teeth,
that I’ll never see.