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Iska Aug 2018
I have a galaxy hidden beneath my ribcadge
and a hurricane for a heart.
With dreams glittering like stardust.
And that’s what sets me apart.
We are all made of stars and storms,
That, my dear, is how art is formed.
Iska Oct 2017
I drank his acid,

he drank my fear.

He slit my wrists,

I swallowed the blade.

He lit the match

And I was ablaze.

He killed me,

And I let him.
Iska May 2018
.
.
.
.
.
.
Can you hear it?
This sweet and sorrowful serenade?
This melody of melancholy.






Of course you can’t,
How selfishly presumptuous of me.
To assume you see the solitude I see
Day after day
.
.
.
.
.
.
Iska Nov 2017
My dear,
they say that a poem is a work of art.
they say that It is emotion,
pouring from your bleeding heart.
and I find that to be quite true,
but not every emotion is happiness anew.
the sadness the anger and pain and fear,
they each have a place to reside in here.
for such raw emotion does set the tide
for the torrent of words
that in a poem, does reside.
Iska Oct 2017
A puppet girl, all dressed up, with painted lips and lined eyes, stands on her toes as she spins and glides.
Guided by her puppet strings she swirls and twirls around the ring.
Round and round this dusty stage she gets up and dances day after day.
The hands that hold her gentle yet firm show her just how much she must learn.
The hands grow fierce, music harsh,as they pull and push her into a perfect arch.
A string then snaps, poor puppet goes loose, abandoned and alone as they tie her a noose.
A puppet girl, all banged up, with chipped paint and bleary eyes, slumps alone as she starts to cry.
Musical laughter fills the ring, as she hears someone begin to sing.
Clanking clattering across the stage, she drags her limbs out of her cage.
She topples and falls tangled in string, trying to find the source of the singing.
Kneeling before her, with beautiful wings, is another girl living her dreams.
A puppet girl, just like her, moving with ease, unburdened by the need for strings.
"Are you an angel?" she rubs her eyes trying to see if this girl is a lie.
the girl before her smooths over her dress, before gliding into a curtsy and saying "yes."
"I wish to be an angel like you, then I could be free to move."
The angel tilts her head, her smile sly, before opening her mouth to reply,
"As you wish it, it shall be so."
then with terrible grace and ease, she cuts off the strings...
and with it she holds the Poor Puppet Girl's head,
her body lays crumpled up,
shes.... dead.
"Shh." she whispers as she cradles the head,
she spins and glides claiming shes been naughty,
and attaches the puppet girls head on an angels body.
And as the puppet girl blinks her eyes,
she realizes she's back to life.
in a form now free of strings,
she can dance and spin as she may please.
then she sees her body crumpled where it now lies,
and with a shuddering sob she begins to cry.
the angel takes her hand in hers
and with a crazy smile and mad glint in her eyes
she starts to sing:
"hush little one,
now we are the same.
don't worry baby,
no more pain.
Now listen to me child,
let blood fall like blissful rain,
and we shall free those who remain,
free them from these awful chains."
beware the puppet masters.
for they will drive the puppets to the edge of the stage,
until they snap,
and the puppets lie dead
on top of the body pile.
Iska Jan 2018
We all tell woes Of shattered things.
Scattered dreams and pretty things.
All tangled up in endless string.

A string of letters,
Of words and lines
Mixed with emotions
and beauty and lies

Stories of girls broken inside,
Of boys with more blood to dry.
Of Secrets and lies hidden away
Of adults trying to make it just one more day.

Some are well told
Others a jumble of string
Yet in them all one uniting thing.

The audience.

Ah yes, those brave souls, willing to read.
To read the rambling of broken things.
Of flickering poets crying to be heard.
Of lost souls with pathways blurred.

So gather all your tangled string
And join in the cacophony of broken things
As we spin around this shattered ring
I ask you of one simple thing...

Do you smear yourself in ink and pain,
Just for the number of readers you'll gain?
Or is it an art to be admired?
Something to live on long after we expire?

No, if that's true I'm afraid
you've got it all twisted,
its not for the audience that poetry existed.
It's for the poet, tangled in string,
It gives them a chance to create the whole thing.

A world where no one chooses what goes
Save for the poet who truly knows.
The reason to write, To fight and bleed,
Is because we all long to be tangled in string
Why do you write?
What is the purpose?
Ace
Iska Aug 2018
Ace
Every day the cards were played
Everyday you lost
I won.
Every day you’d come back
With declarations of future success,
And when proved false you’d smile,
All lopsided and sheepish,
With a “next time perhaps”
And now your gone.
And next time won’t come.
I guess I won after all.
You always said
I was a queen of diamonds
But my dear,
You were the Ace of hearts.
To Everett
If there is a place after this life,
I expect to see that lopsided grin
From across the table
May we play cards again
who knows?
I may even let you win...
(Or not)
:’(
Iska Nov 2018
Ragged breaths
Dilated eyes
The sweet truth
The hazy lie
Breathy laughter
Loving the high
Sensual embrace
As I chase
After you
Addicted
through and through
Iska Nov 2017
this life is a long winding road,
and what a dull one it'd be
if I had to tread it alone....
Iska Jul 2018
His tainted hands
Stained my soul
And created scars
Made invisible
A broken story,
Old as time,
You’ve dreamed to live
As I had longed to die.
Iska Feb 2018
although age in and of itself
does not declare experience
or the depth of knowledge one has gained
and in my opinion is silly for anyone
to think otherwise
I'm always told
"your so wise for one so young."
Or
"oh I remember what it was like to be 19
and think you know the world."
Yet what they refuse to acknowledge
is that in 19 short years,
I may have experienced both
horrors and beauty
that they have yet to dream let alone see.
Who is to say that age is a boundary of the mind?
That inexperience creates an age divide?
Who are they to claim that we would be consumed
when they have yet to wander in our beaten old shoes?
Who are they to judge me of a story
they have yet to hear?
All becuse they refuse to lend an ear?
Iska Feb 2018
'Why is it so painful to grow?'

A seed.
Just a seed buried under the ground.
Under the pressure of the soil,
It fights to grow.

The seed cracks,
such a sturdy little seed,
opens with a painful snap.

A sprout coils out.
Out of the cracked little seed.
A sprout now crushed under,
Under the pressure of the unforgiving ground.

Yet still... It grows.

A little sprout,
Now reaches up.
Up and away from the little seed,
and up to the light of the sun.

Pushing and groaning it bursts out.
Out from the unforgiving ground.
Yet now new dangers are to be found.

Will it be trampled
Or eaten alive?
The possibilities are endless,
The ways it could die.

And still.. it grows.

The sprout toils endlessly,
always stretching and growing
Reaching for the crimson sun.

The rain falls down
beating upon the sprout.
Pelting it's skin and whipping it about.
It skin hardens painfully,
and sprout becomes stem.

And still It grows.
The stem keeps reaching,
Stretching to the sky.

The stem then splits
It rips in two a bud appears
A little bud,
With so much to do.

Then the bud breaks
A ***** appears
a petal unfurls from within.

Then it's a bloom.
Such a sweet little thing.
Until the ***** stretches
So the bloom can grow
In to the beautiful rose
We've all come to know.

And still.. it grows.

Thorns burst free
Breaking out of the stem
And petals billow and grow in the breeze.

Then you see me,
And my beauty delights you,
So you wish to see me every day.
And your scissors encircle me
To give you your way.

They cut me in half.
They slice me in two.
being a rose,
There was naught I could do.

You carry me with you,
Your hands coated in my blood,
I'm dying slowly,
All for your love.

And now... I can't grow.

So as I bleed and wither in pain,
You place me in a vase
Or press me in a book,
All to save the bloom for another day.

And as I gasp for air,
Among your dry pages,
You leech me of all life,
Perfectly preserved
just so I could last the ages.

Or else I am drowning
In glass and water
My beauty wasted
hour by hour
Day by day
All to satisfy your whimsical ways.

And now all I wish to know,
'Why is it so painful to grow?'
Iska Nov 2017
tis a sad day indeed when family turns to strangers.
when you look into the face that you have loved for years
and only see uncertainty and distance.
you know what I'm talking about....
when you dress up for their visits.
and worry what they think.
where stiff conversations
and insincere smiles dwell.

what happened?

I cannot remember a time with out you...
yet I find my self unsure as to how to spell your name.
I cannot remember our last laugh.
not these pretentious giggles
but cheek burning, tummy clutching, eyes tearing laughter.
I cant clearly see your face. hear your voice.
I cant remember your catch phrases. your jokes.

What happened?

I know not your friends, nor where you sleep at night.
what has caused this heart wrenching chasm to form?
I have loved you!
Where are you?
I have fought, kicked and screamed with and for you,
who do you fight for now?
What severed these bonds we swore would never brake?

What happened?

was it me?
was I not there?
did I send you away?
Oh the heart breaking pain...
I would do anything for you,
even now,
although I know not the person you have become.
I would die for you.
and I do... a little more each day.
would you do the same?

What happened?

why did you leave me?
I am your sister, your blood,
yet you are no where in sight.
I miss you..... oh God I miss you.

What happened?

tell me and i will fix it.
I swear i will,
because, dear sister i miss you
so much that  it hurts.
I wake up at night
and I wounder, are you still alive?
If so then why do i feel so empty.

tis a sad day when your name falls from my lips
and sounds clumsy. as if it didn't belong.
I miss you...
What happened to you?
to our bond?
was it I who did you wrong?
Im sorry i Let you go...
and you will never know
Iska Nov 2017
Hello.
I am the trending poem.                                                            ­            
         you see me and I make you feel alive
                                             so you like me and re-post me
                                                              ­    then you leave me alone to die.
Hello,
I am your forgotten lines.
             you created me with a careful love
                                                          an­d decisive rhymes
                                      and then to the bottom of your page I'm shoved.
Hello
I am forgotten, alone and unloved
                           a faded smile a broken dove
                                               I once was beautiful, touching.
                                                       ­   now, I've been replaced, I'm nothing.
Iska Nov 2018
I am not pretty
nor happy
nor brave
my world is a world of mist and rain
you are beautiful
your smile is sunshine given life
as you take all blows in stride.
don"t you see?
you and I,
we are not the same.
your provide an umbrella
and I provide the rain
and the winds will batter you
and force your umbrella to crumple
with holes in the fabric
and no shelter from my storm
and you will realize
that rain no longer smells so sweet
when choking on the storm
so you will retreat

and leave me to rage alone...
Iska Aug 2018
I feel like we lived in a bubble
All safe warm and secure
And now the bubble has popped
And we have lost the safety for sure
Iska Feb 2018
The false crisendo of your words
Grate against my every nerves.
Wandering round
With ****** feet
How many expectations
Have I failed to meet?

What more do you want
Of my sorry soul
When I cannot bring
My self to breath anymore?

So I watch your hopes
all tumbling down
It feels quite cold
Down here in the ground.
I'm sorry that I wasn't enough
I tried to be what you asked of me
But I didnt think it'd be So tough.

My weary bones creak and ache,
My wrist all burned and ******,
Can you not be quite just once for my sake?

I understand the gravity.
I know Im failing at life,
But you dig right in,
spreading the cavity,
How to ignore the strife?

Whispered arguments bleed through the walls
How much longer until we fall?
Through the floor straight down to ****
All because I could not tell.

Should I weep in pain,
And ***** away,
To satisfy you're whimsical ways?
Should I sell my soul,
And bite my tongue,
Just to keep the wallet full?
But "your so young,
You've no excuse,
So bend your back,
Put those hands to use."

Welcome to life.
Put away your pain,
No time for strife,
No time for play,
Just nod you head,
Exit the stage,
And get a job,
So you'll be payed.

I'd sooner live a poor church mouse,
Then lose myself in persute of a house.
But no, I'll smile my candy grin,
And talk with sugar sweet.
Hide the weight of the pain,
So your expectations, I'll meet.
Some times it's just not enough.
Iska Aug 2018
My darling,
Before you set out to change the world,
Remember
The world will change you as well.
Iska Dec 2018
A chance

All that I ask for is a chance
A chance to meet and not divide
We’ve played this game,
Time and again
And throughout it all
we still remained friends
But to write off someone
based on what you lack
Is a sorry thing
that you have a knack
Of repeating again and again.
I’m not begging for you
to be chummy ole pals
Only I plead for you to meet
without a judgmental scowl.
Though a childish endeavor
I know it to be,
For once I just wish
You could see what I see.
With out the taint of jealousy.
To give a chance and then to decide
Is one thing
But to allow yourself to be clouded with envy and fear
Is a prison noone should be forced to endure.
~Iska
Iska Dec 2018
You stick us all together
And declare we are the same
As if we all don’t have a different
Tolerance to pain
Iska Oct 2017
Boiling blood,
Dagger eyes.
Hateful mind,
Both cruel and sly.

Brave façade,
Daunting lies.
You look to me,
"Its time to die."

I hear you,
And watch
you scream
And plea.
Yet its not anger
That i see,
Only...

Aching muscles,
Tired eyes.
A weary heart,
A mournful sigh.

"Hush my child,
Its not time yet.
If you do this now,
There's much you'll regret."

Shallow breaths,
Teary eyes.
Shaking hands,
You sob and cry.

"Can't you see?"
Again you plea..
"Its time to die.
Nothing left for me."

I look on,
And I feel your sorrow.
A broken heart,
With no hope for tomorrow

"Be calm my child,
Just look around.
With a bit of effort
Happiness can be found."

"You don't understand!
How can you know?
Who are you to decide
When I'm ready to go?"

Bleeding smiles,
Plastic masks.
Hidden scars,
You've gone too far.

"Be careful my child,
Or you will be consumed
And then there will be
Nothing more I can do."

Sun kissed smiles,
Moon burnt laughs.
Bright future,
Dark past.

Wedding bells,
Pure love.
White shells,
Caged dove.

Sticky hands,
Tiny feet.
Sloppy kisses,
Hearts complete.

Weary smiles,
Wizened eyes.
Snow kissed hair,
You've grown wise.

Calmly you stand,
Before me once again.
With a full heart,
A long life.
With Faded scars,
And smile lines.
I hear you repeat,
A long lost line,
With a sad smile,
"Its time to die"

I greet you,
Arms open wide,
Embraced in me
You quietly die.
And as you fade,
I hear you say...
"Thank you,
For helping me
Hold on til today."
Iska Oct 2017
its always fascinated me,
you know...
how silently death comes,
how one moment,
all is right with the world...
and deaths touch goes unnoticed
until it is.
then it freezes.
and come crashing down
and your crying,
the whole world is crying and screaming along with you until the screams ***** and you loose your voice drowning in your silent
tears,
when 2 seconds ago....
you were fine.
suddenly present becomes past.
Live like there is no tomorrow
because you never know,
there may not be.
Iska Dec 2018
Dilated pupils,
crazed grins and white lies.
Don’t you see the chaos writhing beneath my skin?
Ragged breathing shivering spines the delusion that I am alive.
Screaming nerves hysterical laugh can’t you see it will out last
all that I am.
An uphill battle where I’m destined to die.
A whirlwind that rages within as I yank out my hair and peel back my skin.
Masochistic they say.
Delirious on pain.
Rolled eyes biting tongues
I wonder why the world demands I live life perfect and clean,
when all I want to do is make such a delicious mess.
Your life is too much you say?
Your trying to catch your breath?
I don’t want my life at all, when was the last time I even took a breath?
I can’t recall.
All I know is this compulsive urge.
Raw.
Enticing.
Undeniable.
I want to break things.
To feel them collide and shatter beneath my finger tips.
I want to tear at the walls until my nails ***** and my fingers bleed.
I want this whirlwind,
this storm
to rage until it consumes the entire world around me.
So deliciously self destructive.
I want to bite and snarl and tear into my skin, making such a lovely MESS of myself.  
To tear out my hair and lash out at everything.
I want to know how it feels to explode.
Such reckless desire.
I want to open myself up to find a reason, ANY reason to stay alive.
And do you want to know the scariest part of all?
I want to NOT find a reason.
Pure insanity,
I know.
I want to peel my skin back, layer by layer, to make such a glorious MESS of myself, only to find it all for naught.
You see, there is a beauty,
in setting the world ablaze,
in shattering the ground that I stand upon,
and watching among the flames as it crumpled and falls,
entombing me.
Such a blissful nonsensical whimsical desire.
Such delicious delirium.
To watch myself go up in flames.
To ruin myself so completely.
So absolutely.
To witness the reckless beauty in breaking the world.
Of relishing in the madness and destruction that matches the chaos in my head.
I think we all dance upon the razors edge.
Some just dance a tad more recklessly then others.
Iska Aug 2018
Scattered memories float past my fingertips collecting like dust upon the stars.
Iska Feb 2018
Misplaced smiles, awkward laughs,
The silence stretches on for miles.
Wandering eyes, shuffling feet,
Something's missing, incomplete.
What happened to the brighter days?
When hours seemed to slip away?
Now the seconds are more like years,
And minutes seem like eons of fears.
I miss you dearly, this I know,
But I wounder if it's you I miss,
Or something I created, romanticized,
Either way, it seems so faded,
What happened to the friendship we so effortlessly created?
Iska Jan 24
Dear Reader,
they say that life is loud.
That it's noise deafens us and dulls our senses.
that it is all just..... too much

But you see, dear reader, I... disagree
I think that life is absolutely quiet,
and I think that the silence bothers people.
Because, much to the disagreement of others,
silence is so terribly loud

within the quiet hides
all that we are,
all that we hope to be,
and all that we fear.
monsters thrive in the silence
because there is nothing to
drown them out
no escape.
Just you and your own mind.

I believe that ****
is cold and quiet.
That it is like snow muffled steps
echoing in our souls forever.
The frigid silence is inescapable

It seeps into your very bones
and fills your head
until all you can hear
is the smooth cold laughter
of your demons
as they delight in your numb isolation

I believe that this ****
is already here
and it fills our lives

Think about it,
the world shattering
as the silence of your worthless life
echos through your core.

Yes,
it is the silence that frightens us.
The things that the silence reveals in our souls.
As it uncovers the monsters that lurk
in the dark shadows of the mirror before you.
It forces you to face
every flaw.

So please,
I beg of you,
scream with me.
cut me open
and bleed with me
so I can escape this all encompassing silence.
Iska Feb 2018
A chance encounter,
from cross the way.
If you had spoken,
what would you say?

My eyes darted to yours,
Though they were disguised,
I thought for sure what they saw
was a lie.

Should I have smiled?
Should I have cried?
Instead I looked on,
For I couldn't decide.

Could you read the words
that I can't find?
Read them in my sunlit eyes?

Does distance and time
obscure your sight?
Or is it that I didn't
say the words quite right?

Should I have yelled?
Should I have screamed?
I couldn't tell,
For nothing is as it seems.

My heart beat faster
what is it I feared?
I continued to walk
as if nothing was amiss
But my mind wasn't clear.

I know it's not fair,
To ask who your with
But I can't help but wounder
Was I so easily replaced?

You seemed so happy,
So bright and alive.
To take that away..
Is not my place to decide.

Should I have kept walking?
Should I never have looked?
But I couldn't help it.

She was quite pretty,
Your new little friend
And I'm glad that your happy.

Because we were only just friends.
Yes.
Not star-crossed lovers
But the best of friends.

But that doesn't stop me
from missing you,
It doesn't make me not want to cry,
It can't hold back
the dread of replacement,
Or the jealousy at
the spark in your eyes.

I used to make you laugh like that,
It was my job to make you grin
I held the title best friend
With pride,
Is it hers now to win?

We all speak of lovers
And hearts that won't repair.
Yet when it comes to
the parting of friends,
I doubt it could compare.

The timeless days
that slipped away.
The giddy grins
And thoughtless things
That make up a
flawlessly flawed friend
Is what we miss dearly in the end.
It's not just breakups that cause us to break
Iska 13h
there once was a girl born with a fire heart.
it danced beneath the layers of her skin,
burning so brilliantly
you could see the flames blazing within.

when she saw the monsters
lurking within the darkness,
hunting those with no light to burn
this little girl gave them her flames.

and for once,
the world was burst into a brilliant light.
it pulsed and danced across the stars
with the potential to burn away the endless darkness

but what this foolish girl had yet to understand
was that there was only so much of your fire heart
that you can give away before you are left with
nothing but simmering embers inside.

on her knees she was smiling,
seeing all that her fire has saved.


only to be burned with her own flames.


she has out lived her purpose
so the left her to be devoured
by the very monsters
she had protected them from.

only to realize that these monsters
weren't nearly as bad as the ones
who now walked away with her flames.
Iska Dec 2018
You feel like fire to me.
All warm and beautiful
With the ability to
Burn
Me
Alive
Mesmerizing to behold
As you dance around with a
glittering spark in your eyes
As you always seem to
Draw
Me
In
And entice me to dance with you.
So beautiful in your destruction
With the ability to burn away the darkest of nights.
Iska Mar 7
We spend all of this time
searching our souls and
picking apart our brains
wondering how we fell so far
we look in the mirror to practice
our grins and blatant white lies
in an attempt to cover the dishonesty
behind the sentiment "i am perfectly fine"
Iska Dec 2018
Starring at the world
through a fractured freeze frame
Splintering my skin as I draw closer clawing to the faded paint only to end up on the other side
To a world as bland and gray as it was on the other side.
Iska Apr 17
I feel so foggy
Limbs feel heavy
Thoughts feel thick
Eyelids stick
I don’t feel sick
So it must be ok..
No matter the way
Self medicate
To placate
This morbid mirror
This demonic fear
Iska Dec 2017
A girl in a snow globe, delights in her world,
she watches, enchanted, as the snow falls down,
it drifts and glides and swirls around
before finally landing upon the ground.
until one day she notices the glass,
and she understands (realizes)  the prison at last.
I may turn this into a longer poem or a short story.
Iska May 2018
One slips down
Smile lasts a little longer

Two slip down with a gulp
Now I am giddy and feeling stronger.

Three go down one after another
Now I wonder
have you noticed me stutter?

Four go down
And maybe one more...

Five go down with a gurgle
I wonder..
When do I start feeling alive?

Six is a struggle
But it’s worth the trouble

Seven go down
Yet I still drown

Better be eight
And you won’t feel the hate

Then goes nine
To feel this time...

Ten go down
And I start to D R O W N
In giggles and gurgles
In chimes and rhymes
In sad and hate
In numbing pain

Happy pills why do I still feel the same?
Iska Aug 2018
You dropped a piece of your heart..
All shattered and black
So I picked it up and added it to my collection
And soon I was covered in shards of broken hearts
Mine and yours
And stories untold
And soon enough the shards splintered my skin
As my own heart broke from within
Iska Oct 2017
And
      In
         That
               Moment
                            She
                                  Was
                          ­              Consumed
                                                       And
                                              There
            ­                           Was
                           Nothing
                  More
                I
      Could
Do
Iska Nov 2017
No matter how hard I try
Regardless of what I do
I never can seem to do
Right by you.....
Iska Oct 2017
She was a hurricane.

And when the storm hit,

I had a choice to make.

To play it safe and run away,

Forget her smirk, the wild glint in her eyes.

Or to grab her hand with a smirk of my own

And chase the storm,

To dance in the rain.
Iska Oct 2017
I am a liar
I'm not "OK"
its a painful mask i bare
behind my smile is a broken heart
behind my laugh I'm falling apart
look closely at me and you shall see
the girl i am, isn't me.
Everyday i smile
and act like nothings wrong,
its called putting everything aside,
and simply being strong.
and now i wear this smile i don't believe in,
inside i feel like screaming.
we carry these things inside of us,
that no one else can see,
they hold us down like anchors,
they drown us out at sea.
I did my best to try and be
the mirror of society,
but we both the mirrors cracked,
and everybody's in the act.
so with torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
and force a bubbly laugh,
hoping that no one can see the truth behind our masks
but there's a monsters in the mirror,
and when I lean close,
she comes nearer,
she looks into my eyes and sees my fear,
"hush" she whispers,
"your the only one who knows I'm here."
Iska Jun 2018
Boys or girls,
to the bathroom scale we all look the same.
Muscle or fat
the numbers won’t change.
Pair shaped, square shaped
the mirror will show it all, and the broken soul will count the flaws...
Iska 13h
I want to cut
I want to cry
I want to scream
And I wonder
If I deserve
To die.
A punishment
For my sins
For the poisonous
Thoughts swirling
Within.

You see,

I...
will never come first.

And that’s ok.

When I tell you I love you more than anything,
You will never reply the same.

And that’s ok.

I will never be your first

And that’s ok

It’s ok.
It’s ok.
It’s ok.

Her smile will forever make you day

And that’s ok
(I wouldn’t love you as much as I do if it didn’t anyway)

She is your purpose for living

And that’s ok
(I wouldn’t love you as much as I do if she wasn’t anyway)

Her laugh is your most precious thing

And that’s ok
(I wouldn’t love you as much as I do if it wasn’t anyway)

It’s ok.
It’s ok.
It’s ok.

She will always be your brightest sun

And that’s ok

She will always be the first

And that’s ok

I will never even be the fourth

And that’s ok

It’s ok.
It’s ok.
It’s ok.

It really is.
I swear to god that it’s ok
I love you all the more for it
And I wouldn’t have it any other way

But at night....

When loneliness seeps into my bones

And monsters hiss into my ears


Reminding me that I am not your first
That I... have never been anyone’s first and most important person


That I have never deserved it

And that I will never even be your fourth.

And that’s ok.

It’s ok.
It’s ok.
It’s ok.

But at night...


With loneliness bleeding through my soul.

I can’t help but wonder...

What it would be like.

To at least once


be first
To someone
To anyone

Because I have never been anybody’s number one.

Never been put first

Not even by myself.

And I never will be.



And that’s ok.


It’s ok.
It’s ok.
It’s ok.

Because when the sun is out.
I love you all the more for it
I don’t regret it.
I do not envy it.
I love you all the more for it

And it’s all truly ok.

It’s ok
It’s ok
It’s ok

But at night


With loneliness swallowing me whole

I can’t help but wonder

Why I

Will never

Be enough


To ever

Be first


Or even

Simply fourth.
Iska May 12
I hate that I am eating.
I hate every bite, every swallow.
I hate every taste, every wrapper.
I hate the bile that raises in the back of my throat every time
I try to consume food.
I am so so very sick of it all.
So sick of needing to be high to even want to eat.
So sick of the feeling of being full
And I hate my need to be rid of it.
Of trying to force it to stay down
But secretly wishing that my ***** will drown me.
I hate myself when I do *****.
But I hate myself so much more when I don’t.
But they say I’m pretty
But they say I’m better
So why is it so hard
When every swallow is burning me alive
And every ***** makes me a liar.
And every skipped meal makes me a coward.
Iska Oct 2018
what a **** show
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