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#phsyco
Prepare yourself, this gets interesting Have you ever imagined how a hanging body sways. Back and forth A human pendulum The physics between each swing. The noose, The body potential to kinetic energy Over And over And over. welcome To the dark side of my brain, The dark side of my art we call poetry. This is the side not many see. Because this side of me craves a bullet between my eyes, My delicate blood to be splattered as artwork. This is the raw side of me. That i dont show people This is terrible you could be thinking Or... You could be thinking ive heard worse And maybe so But nothing is worse to me than wishing for ******* death, Rather than looking at a ******* abuser one last ****** time! ive had enough And I know im crazy. But every human snaps... Kind of like the time he snapped my arm a slight pop And Ouch A world of pain. But stop, And you could be thinking... *now what the actual **** am i reading* Allow me. You are reading a lonely 15 year old boy's crazy side. A side he can easily hide, But has decided not too. This is the thought of letting my inner self free just once Letting my suicide revolver speak only in poetry just once No, If you actually care Dont worry about me. Im fine. Im not gonna guzzle bleach Pop a bullet Or go for a physics lesson. Nope im gonna keep living And writing *crazy **** like this. Let my imagination, though dark it may be, run for a bit. Heres the truth. We all have a bit of this side in us. We all have those thoughts. Those whispers. And i resist them, yes. Because truth is, its my inner brilliance The fact that i let myself ease in to the darkness, But refuse to let it controll me... Its a true gift. And i hide it Behind a thin veil of happieness. Because in the end, Only a true lover can make these thoughts mend. (Wait what the **** Is this a **** love poem) Ha! Nope. Well maybe a bit Its just me An average guy Telling you, Im lonely Depressed Insecure. And i hope there is someone To come with me To be with me To love me To hold me To make me feel whole again. do you believe someone could love such a wreched person like me?
0
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
bleeding-diamonds
Warning, graphic content... If you dare to read.
Prepare yourself, this gets interesting Have you ever imagined how a hanging body sways. Back and forth A human pendulum The physics between each swing. The noose, The body potential to kinetic energy Over And over And over. welcome To the dark side of my brain, The dark side of my art we call poetry. This is the side not many see. Because this side of me craves a bullet between my eyes, My delicate blood to be splattered as artwork. This is the raw side of me. That i dont show people This is terrible you could be thinking Or... You could be thinking ive heard worse And maybe so But nothing is worse to me than wishing for ******* death, Rather than looking at a ******* abuser one last ****** time! ive had enough And I know im crazy. But every human snaps... Kind of like the time he snapped my arm a slight pop And Ouch A world of pain. But stop, And you could be thinking... *now what the actual **** am i reading* Allow me. You are reading a lonely 15 year old boy's crazy side. A side he can easily hide, But has decided not too. This is the thought of letting my inner self free just once Letting my suicide revolver speak only in poetry just once No, If you actually care Dont worry about me. Im fine. Im not gonna guzzle bleach Pop a bullet Or go for a physics lesson. Nope im gonna keep living And writing *crazy **** like this. Let my imagination, though dark it may be, run for a bit. Heres the truth. We all have a bit of this side in us. We all have those thoughts. Those whispers. And i resist them, yes. Because truth is, its my inner brilliance The fact that i let myself ease in to the darkness, But refuse to let it controll me... Its a true gift. And i hide it Behind a thin veil of happieness. Because in the end, Only a true lover can make these thoughts mend. (Wait what the **** Is this a **** love poem) Ha! Nope. Well maybe a bit Its just me An average guy Telling you, Im lonely Depressed Insecure. And i hope there is someone To come with me To be with me To love me To hold me To make me feel whole again. do you believe someone could love such a wreched person like me?
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86
Hello mom, I know we haven't talked in a few years because I left without saying goodbye but I've been thinking of you a lot lately, I'm sorry I left in a hurry but I wasn't strong enough to stand there and vent my reasons without telling a lie and  I'm starting to regret it, well I dont know I might be. I saw my reflection in the window of a passing car and it reminded me of when you would make me stay home from school and lock me in the closet filled with mirrors after you would beat me and get too drunk to stand, I remember going to school after a morning when you'd turn up the heat on a faucet and place it over my hand, I used to wait in anticipation for when the skin would boil, bubble, peel, and fall. How could you think I'd forget about it all? Like when it would rain and I'd run outside light as feather, excited to swim in 30° weather when it was really you holding my face in a giant puddle filled with bugs that would slither out from the gutter runoff so can you blame me not being able to keep it together? I grew up with everything except love, every time I tried to chase the idea of it you would wrap plastic around my head but I was so small that I never realized it was just a rubber glove, I remember everything. I tried so hard, I even tried when I saw you crying one night after you got beat by some man I put my hand on your shoulder and said it'll be OK, you screamed then bent my wrist back and threw it in the blades of a moving fan, that's the real reason why I left and ran. I know I missed your funeral but I dont feel bad, I'm sitting in a hospital talking to specialists and they keep saying I just dont remember anything and that's what really makes me sad but its fine because when I get depressed, mad, or want to swallow a fist full of pills I just look at the scars you left on my legs when you pushed me into an oven when I was four. How can they say I dont remember anything when I can recall everything? I dont know but I'm writing this letter so I can clip it to the crime scene video they show me every day of your body parts washing up on shore near the old harbor, but I guess ill probably just forget until I see this note again so I'll have to repeat the same routine forever and force my brain through this mental labor.
0
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
anthonyasylum
I Remember
Hello mom, I know we haven't talked in a few years because I left without saying goodbye but I've been thinking of you a lot lately, I'm sorry I left in a hurry but I wasn't strong enough to stand there and vent my reasons without telling a lie and  I'm starting to regret it, well I dont know I might be. I saw my reflection in the window of a passing car and it reminded me of when you would make me stay home from school and lock me in the closet filled with mirrors after you would beat me and get too drunk to stand, I remember going to school after a morning when you'd turn up the heat on a faucet and place it over my hand, I used to wait in anticipation for when the skin would boil, bubble, peel, and fall. How could you think I'd forget about it all? Like when it would rain and I'd run outside light as feather, excited to swim in 30° weather when it was really you holding my face in a giant puddle filled with bugs that would slither out from the gutter runoff so can you blame me not being able to keep it together? I grew up with everything except love, every time I tried to chase the idea of it you would wrap plastic around my head but I was so small that I never realized it was just a rubber glove, I remember everything. I tried so hard, I even tried when I saw you crying one night after you got beat by some man I put my hand on your shoulder and said it'll be OK, you screamed then bent my wrist back and threw it in the blades of a moving fan, that's the real reason why I left and ran. I know I missed your funeral but I dont feel bad, I'm sitting in a hospital talking to specialists and they keep saying I just dont remember anything and that's what really makes me sad but its fine because when I get depressed, mad, or want to swallow a fist full of pills I just look at the scars you left on my legs when you pushed me into an oven when I was four. How can they say I dont remember anything when I can recall everything? I dont know but I'm writing this letter so I can clip it to the crime scene video they show me every day of your body parts washing up on shore near the old harbor, but I guess ill probably just forget until I see this note again so I'll have to repeat the same routine forever and force my brain through this mental labor.
Continue reading...
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