Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Dipper Dec 2020
The deep red reminds me of my scars,
The bright green reminds you of your pain,
But on this starry night all we see is white.
Dipper Dec 2020
If I ripped out my brain,
would it stay with me now?
would it run and find a better body somehow?

If I tore out my lungs,
would I still breath fresh air?
would I suffocate myself in a corner somewhere?

If I carved out my heart,
would you ask me to stay?
would you try to hold and love me someway?

If I stitched up my wounds,
would I sleep well at night?
would I cry when I see my scars in the light?
Dipper Dec 2020
I’ve never been in a relationship, and I know you know it.
Is it supposed to be a radical decision of passion, or more deliberate?
I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t want to hurt you.
I don’t know if you feel the same, and I don’t know if I want to.
I’m not trying to lead you on, but I don’t want this to end.
The way you held me today didn’t feel like we were just friends.
I know it’s cliche, but I’m afraid of committing,
Once I say the truth it has a habit of disappearing.
Dipper Dec 2020
And they will never know my name
or what I want to wear
I'll just bleed a bit to feel sane
and burn what I used to wear
Cuz I don't care
No I don't care

I don't even know my name
and is that really fair?
I'll build a crumbling tower of blame
and hurl myself off there
I just don't care
No I don't care.
Dipper Dec 2020
I keep reading over the words I write
desperately searching for a hint of respite
praying it's a mistake, another lie
I told myself so I could try to get by
I don't hear a god on the other line
as this one way phone call depresses my mind
a sick fantasy is all it is, I reply
hating myself for not being a guy?
confused that my feelings have gone so awry
concerned that I can't bring myself to cry
scared that I won't be what I see inside
and terrified it's all just another lie.
Dipper Dec 2020
Bright lights, quiet nights
empty promises inside my mind.
I try, I try.

Soft hair, soft lips
a face that I will never kiss
my hands clenched into fists

And they will never know my name
I don't think that they care
They'll never see what's in my brain
Just what I'm forced to wear
But I doubt they care.
I doubt they crare.

Heart bleeds, blood soaks
the space between my pillow
and my loud headphones.

Words spill, tears cry
I lay these wretched bones dry
your amber eyes ask why.
Dipper Nov 2020
We put people into boxes.
One look at an appearance,
One shake of the hand,

One sentence spoken tells us all we need to know.
When we're proven wrong we cower when we should grow.
Instead of learning, we call one person different and shun the rest,
everyone else like them put into another box where we never test.
Test ourselves if this is wrong, or just a trait that helps us survive.
Because assumptions based on stereotypes are surely the way to thrive.
Everyone has different boxes, and everyone thinks they're right.
We'll tell ourselves anything to help us sleep at night.

The problem lies not with the boxes themselves, (though make no mistake they're not exempt from blame),
The problem is what we do with these cages, and how they're used to inflict pain.
People who don't agree are deemed to be hostile, and thrown in another shed.
We need to talk, find some common ground, be able to disagree without blood being bled.
Next page