My memories deceive me, and my heart bleeds to thoughts of
      you, poisoned from the curse that runs deep within my veins.
      Do I halter and use the words that I can, to try with you,
      another chance?
    

      My memories deceive me, and my mind is headed to a paradox of
      life that doesn't bring happiness but only a subtle feeling
      of contentment. For in my memories you are with me in a
      final, never ending dance.
    

      My memories deceive me, as the bewildering cries from within
      awaken the soul that has been bound by chains created from
      the sins of my past life, and are made stronger by the sins
      of which are my own.
    

      My memories deceive me, as the rumors of your betrail fade
      into the shadows but the calling from our hearts reach into
      the light, violently, yet no sound have they shown.
    

      My memories deceive me, trying to hold them back, all that
      accomplishes is bringing you into my senses once again, but I
      go forth to a different land with what could have and should
      have been.
    

      My memories deceive me, chased by an altered state of mind
      where nothing has gone wrong, no death, no pain, just the
      feeling of contentment once again.
    

      My memories, they deceive me and everyone around me, for I do
      not see faces, only souls that fade into surroundings. A
      paralytic view is what they show, of what should have, could
      have been you and me.
    

      My memories deceive me, but could they instead be the truth
      that I have been seeking as I try hard to sink them in
      deeply...

      My memories. My memories, immortal as they come, they open my
      eyes, though they burn like facing the sun, in this time I
      have begun, to realize my memories. They do not deceive, but
      only conceive the past that I have forgotten and shields me
      from...you.

You've had a hard life
Full of hatred and denial
Betrail and heartbreak
Like your heart is on trial

You want it to end
This treacherous life
To run away free
To give up the fight

But I can tell you now
That nothing can compare
To what you've gone through
Through all that despair

It might seem like
The tunnel of light
Would be much better
If it stopped burning bright

I can tell you
"Don't end your life"
But it would do anything
Except fuel the fight

Your heart doesn't want it
I can see it in your eyes
So I wrote a poem for you
Without wearing a disguise

I might not be the wisest
Or all knowing and powerful
But I can tell you
That life is beautiful

Seeing a sunrise
Or little bits of joy
Will make you realize
Your life's not a toy

Don't take these moments
The futures you haven't seen
Instead, hope that one day
You'll find where you've been

Find your soul and yourself
On this journey of life
Some might even call it
A journey of love

We are the demons of this earth. We are the vampires that **** away the life we "hold so dear". We are the monsters that ravage and destroy towns of peace just because we are blood thirsty.
We make up monsters by looking deep within ourselves. We find them fascinating, desirable, and lustful. Though we are those demons that we speak of. We are the demons within the stories and movies we find so alluring. I do not fear those demons and monsters that we have "made up" because the real monsters are all around me. They are all around this earth yet unseen by the naked eye. Only those who have seen it first hand know the evil of this world. The evil that those movies truly tell us. We may not be those monsters we have made up, but we are much more then that. Look around you, no one is as they seem, nothing in this world is.
I listen to the rain, hearing silence, yet screams of pain. This world calls out to us, wanting, waiting, for the sun to rise and for us to fall. We **** the life out of everything we touch. We create more of us to do what we wish upon the world. Spreading lies, betrail, and blood. Our hands our red with our mothers blood. We have killed our mother, the very thing that gave us life. What are we? Are we truly better then those monsters we see or are we simply looking into a mirror or possibly the future. The wars between vampires and werewolves are nothing less of the wars that go on today. We fight for nothing, we **** for fun, we die so that this world has a chance to survive.
Some of us resist, but none of us truly exsist. We are this worlds end. We are our own death. There is no reaper, only man. There are no vampires, werewolves, or even elves. We are those monsters we speak of and we will stop at nothing until evil has one. Our mothers and our fathers will always see us as less of a person. The longer we live, the more evil we become. Do we become stronger? No! Only weaker and deeper into the darkness that will consume the brightest of hearts.

Pian

Pian

The scars on my  wrists are reminders.

The fresh cuts sting and burn, The red of my blood brings me release of pain that I feel inside. The pain of the sharp and the sight of the blood, it reminds me that I’m alive. But now it just there, there is no pain just numb.

Pain

I’m not scared of death.

No on the contrary I invite it with open arms.

No I’m scared of living. The thought of life is what chills me to the bone. That feeling that I don’t live up to society's standards. That I’ll be treated diffrently if I don’t fit the description of a cis girl.

Pain

It comes in the form of a dress, of long hair, of makeup, of *******.

It does not come in the form of a broken limb or a gun wound.

It is not a physical pain. Though it can be more inhabilitating than a broken leg. You no longer have the strength or will to get out of bed. Or even live anymore.

Pain

It comes from those who do not understand

It comes from words spoken about you but not to you. It comes from betrail of the highest form. That of a friend, of a lover, of family. They talk. Thats what gives you the power to take those pills. To bury the knife so deep in your wrist they can’t take it out. To put that rope necklace on and push away the only thing holding you up.

Pain

It is the friends you push away that can’t help you

It’s the feeling of pure depression. It’s not a sickness that you can see. You don’t cough, you don’t have a sniffly nose, you aren’t pale, you don’t have a fever of 127. You are so tierd becuause if you sleep you dream but can’t call it dreaming. It’s only nighmares.

Pain

It’s not what you think it is.

It’s like a friend who never leaves. Deppression lives with you and you can’t escape it. It slowly invades your sleep and every waking second.

Pain

For me my deppression is my body

My skinny waist, big hips, and *******. From my round face to my girly voice. My shortness and my slender hands and tiny feet. My deppression is my Dysphoria. She huants me when I look in the mirror. I see it in the faces of my friends. So I push them away.

Pain

It’s feeling so loney that it feels as tough you can’t go on any more

It’s pushing away your friends when you need them the most becuse you don’t wan to hurt them if you do leave. And you consider making life better for everyone including yourself by ending it all. Those pills, that blade, the knife, or the necklace of rope makes you feel free.

Pain



No more PAIN

No more PAIN

NO MORE PAIN



PAIN