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Nov 2013 · 256
sword
Taylor Rose Nov 2013
words
                                            words
w o r d s
                                                                           sword
              being used against me
                                                                                                  stabbing me
till i bleed out

                                    is it still funny
Nov 2013 · 459
the point
Taylor Rose Nov 2013
So sometimes I don’t really get the point of being here.  Being alive.  What’s the whole point of it all?  Why are we here?  I don’t get it, and I’m not sure I ever will.  It just seems so confusing to me.  All of it. Why is some of the stuff we do allowed and proper, while other stuff is frowned upon?  Who made up all these crazy rules that we feel like we need to follow them, why do we even follow them?  Are we scared of the demons haunting us?  What demons even are there?  Why do they always choose to pick on us, and latch onto us like leeches and never get off until we’ve gone insane.  And when you do, they’ve got a place for you then.  They’ll lock you up.  They lock you up for showing your emotions.  Its crazy.  Everything you do, doesn't even matter at the end, because at one point, no one will remember you.  At one point, everyone whom you've grown up with will be dead and gone, and so will you.  No one will remember the good stuff you've done, or the bad.  So why do we care so much about it all?  Everything we do we are being judged for it, and put under a label.  The world is the most messed up place ever, but somehow in it’s own ever so twisted ways;
it’s the most beautiful place ever existed.
Nov 2013 · 204
you
Taylor Rose Nov 2013
you
my thoughts and peace of mind are interrupted by you
my train of thought is swarmed with images of you
every message i get from you
i seem to fall even further for you
but as i fall for you
you are not there
to catch me
Oct 2013 · 251
to a boy
Taylor Rose Oct 2013
i step outside into the crisp air.  it smells like autumn.  i look around, and i don't see you.  i haven't seen you for a while now.  it's been 6 years to be exact, and i still haven't seen you.  you said you would visit, you said you would come back.  but you haven't.  you lied.  i still think about you, and i often wonder if you ever think of me.  am i just a memory to you?  am i just a faded memory of your childhood? when you hear my name, do you even picture my face, or do you picture someone else instead.  when you look back, was i an important role to you?  or am i now just erased from you mind like an error, and re-written over with something better, and improved.
i wouldn't blame you if i am, if i could,
i too would erase myself from my memory.

— The End —