These puppet string are held by me,
I’d say I’ve lost my grip,
this autopilot hand-fidget has really gone to ****.

I don’t feel the same anymore,
nothing bubbles in my chest,
but who’s to say I cannot feel
if its only feeling is in my head?

Hello, how are you?
I’m doing simple math,
The strings aren’t taut and funny how
every movement is an act.

The doll’s alive, and she does dance
but watch at your discretion,
because if you knew her once before
she isn’t the same person.

In the world of a girl, me,
there is always a story
waiting between the pages of life.

In every word, in every scene,
I catalog and dissect the meaning
of everyone and everything.
Like some sort of word scientist.

But life isn't always sunshine and rainbows,
sometimes it storms, and there is only grey.
I quite prefer the rain to the rainbow.

But I am not like everyone else,
who gossip about boys and sports
whilst putting on a pound of makeup in the morning.
I am...different.

And in this world, the difference is frowned upon.
So what if I dye my hair odd colors?
So what if I'm a girl with hair short like a boys?
That doesn't make me anything less.
I am more than they could ever imagine.

Just because I sit outside in the rain
or eat my lunch alone, headphones injecting lyrics into my skull
that only I can understand the meaning of
because my brain is my own, not anyone else.

And I don't care that I prefer the company of fake people on screens,
just so I can escape my miserable existence in the real world.
I don't care that I fight every single day just to make it through
and then realize I have to do it all again in the morning.

I don't care. Because I stopped caring a long time ago.
I stopped caring when my own brain decided to rob me
of everything I held dear and turned everyone against me.
I'm just a story in my own head, playing out like a badly written movie.
But that's okay.
Because I wouldn't mind it if I was just a story among millions.
That still means that somewhere,
someone is reading it.

How could you end things so easily?
Was the love really ever there ? And
Did you ever really care? My heart
Is broken once again. Not once not twice but thrice .. you left me again. You’re
Verbally abuse and I’ve took this for long
Enough. I have to be done I have to get rid of you emotionally mentally and physically.
You just wanted to be done so bad over a
stupid argument .. shows your true colors
Shows me who you really are .. I deserve better than this.

I don't like sharing.
Or letting you into my space.
I have a hard time with being kind.
Judgements come naturally.
Strangers can be punchlines.
Your feelings may bother me.
I want you to like me.
But I may not like you.
My first impression of you,
Sticks even when I'm wrong.
I don't like how I am.
I've said I would change.

I haven't.
But I wish I would.

Cold as ice and cold as sin
a man that lost shouldn't've been
but he played his cards
and he played them right
cause nothing touches a man
cold as ice.

Every time I think of you
I imagine myself transported
to this notion we had of ourselves
together in the woods,
but somehow alone,
and I'd kiss your lips every morning
but it'd be bittersweet,
and I loved bitter so much at the time
that I'd melt anyway
and somehow in the woods,
in this tiny cabin,
you'd be able to hide from all your sins
and maybe you could protect me
from the bears
from the harsh weather
and from you.

Poisonous resentment,
Dripping down my esophagus.
Like the salvia you coaxed down my throat,
Icy cold and bitter.

Purple chrysanthemums blooming,
On my pale, once innocent flesh.
Eyes fogged by deception,
I am unable to escape you.

The seed of regret plants itself in my heart,
Roots of the weeds rip through me,
Polluting the heart, tainting the blood.
Paralysed, you force me down and tear me apart.

Fog clears my vision
just like drug laced honey you fed me
I see your true form in the window of my future
Pathetic old man, I’m not afraid of you.

Your claws saturated with manipulation
Grasp and tear at my flesh
But you can’t trap me here any more
I’m not your hostage

therupetic monologue
                                  that taunts as its teaches
singing it's song at tooth's breadth
                                     To my sordid chest.

in the mirror my ****** features distant
        And zoning,
                              Try to love myself and a las,
I love you like chaos loves the silence.

Concrete morning swings along the window pane
   and ushers in a dreary reminder: not to get lost if

You're iffy on your
                                way back home.

La ménagerie à neuf vies
Flotte  dans la nuit bâtarde
Zébrée  de miaulements d'étoiles de gouttière.

C'est une nuit malotrue
Magnétique
Aux cent vingt-trois nuances de vert de gris
Qui tire sa langue subjonctive et indicative
Comme une révérence au vent voyou
Quand il a trop plu
Qu'elle est mouillée et que la lune Happée par la crème lumineuse
De son gardien de la paix
Lui accorde sa ration de danse ronronnante :
Ses vingt minutes réglementaires de visite cadencée.