#multiplepersonality
Moist cement leads to broken metal doors which hold in the pungent scent of the orange air fresheners
Click, ding, swoosh
Everyone rushes in to pretend they have a purpose
Broken earbuds serve me no purpose other than the universal sign of "leave me the **** alone"
Leather wrapped around foam in neat rows
Lined by green tint
And topped with arches of metal
I squeeze into the last bit of routine and look out into the green tinted world
My reflection stares back, judging me
I pretend to ignore him, but she demands attention
They get a firm grip on my hair and tear me from my leather *******
She tells me that there is no hope for the one I pretend to love
He says she has no doubt in their soul that I'm making things worse
I'm suddenly sitting in a metal chair
I feel bound to it, but I'm not
She does it for attention
He has the option to get up, but they stay to hear the truth she has to tell
They do it for attention
You are doing this to ourselves
We can get up from this chair but he doesn't let yourself
We do it for attention
She feels the chair get hot where he sits
They know he can get up but she feels he deserves this pain
He are not bound
We is not bound
They were not bound
She won't be bound
He must be doing this for attention
Attention from whom
They hid her chair for as long as he possibly could
She lied saying he was cold...in June
He made jokes when she couldn't come up with excuses
She didn't do this for attention
He sat in the seat because it is her fault
They can get up at anytime
But I don't
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
Fickle are the weary hearts
Of these eight children, once pure and true
One was sweet and kind, a lover through and through
The second was hard and cruel, and thought everyone a fool
The third shed many tears, of things that mattered not
The forth played many pranks, harmless so they thought
The fifth child, they were wise, and clever in the day
The sixth child was loud, and felt they never got their way
The seventh child of the bunch, they were not made of much,
but hollow bones and silence, invisible they strut
The eighth child was made of chaos, but kept the peace instead
And all these children live with me, trapped inside my head.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Built in my mind
Who are you who seems so divine
Driving out everything dark
With you I take part
Why do you seem so real, when I cannot see
When people ask who I am talking about, I see me
How is it that you appeared
At one of the moments I thought death was near
You are the one who never says goodbye
You are the one who shares my eyes
Me and you make a pair
Everyday we breathe the same air
What I know is for us to learn
Too touch you is something I yearn
Talking to myself against all odds
You my friend, right my wrongs
No matter where you go you always see.
What is within, what is the best of me
Through your invisibility.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC