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Tijana Jul 2018
What has my life come to?
Did I ever really had a choice
I dont know how to put in the words what I feel
Sometimes nothing even seems real
I was taken my basic human needs
And got them replaced with human feces

Never did I thought when I was a child that role of parent will become mine
I feel so broken, I feel so insecure. And quite honestly I cant see any cure
Im codemned, I still am to walk without dignity and be filled with shame, shame that isnt mine.

Yet here Iam god knows how I would look like If I had myself, god knows what things would look like If I didnt put my self in a cell.
Artemia Apr 2015
Condemned To My Own Hell ©

Tied down by chains
Shackled by my pain
Voices driving me insane
They keep calling my name
Tormented by my shame
Forced to bleed out
I scream and shout
Choking on my tears
Feeding off my fear
I'm all alone here
Condemned To My Own Hell
Images of the past
Flash in my mind so fast
Even thou they don't last
The memories are unsurpassed
I beg to be free
Someone rescue me
Codemned To My Own Hell
Broken and bleeding
Tormented and pleading
But they keep feeding
Off my pain
It is their gain
They **** and drain
Driving me insane
Condemned To My Own Hell
My body wrapped in wire
Burning my flesh like fire
My hell is their desire
My pain is their supplier
Shackled here by a Liar
Condemned To My Own Hell
Forced to live a lie
Tormented by his unspoken goodbye
Wishing I could die
Don't let him see me cry
He feeds off my Pain
My misery is his gain
Condemned To The Hell He Created.
©
2014
Noah H May 2016
Her
When I first saw her

She was standing over me, like a worn statue of Aphrodite. She radiated beauty and power and her skin glistened like a lake reflecting the fragile moonlight

When I first saw her, she was wearing an asking Alexandria t shirt, a beacon of individuality in a copy and paste status quo of basketball shorts and loaded guns aimed at the weak.

When I first saw her, I was laying on the ground looking up. I was halfway through the word help, she was halfway through the word stop.

I was 13. Kids a few years older and twice my size held me by my throat and I choked on the gasoline bile boiling up from my stomach.

After she broke a few knuckles, she dusted me off.

When I first saw her, she said, youre kind of a loser, but I like you.




When I last saw her, I bent over the casket to kiss her cheek. The bruises on her neck and cuts in her wrists still hid behind the make up and I wouldve have seen them regardless of the caskets opening. I had this childlike dream that a tear would seep through her chest and water her soul enough to regrow and shed once again beam that beautiful smile that cut through the fog of life. I stood over her like a mournful tower, codemned to not move from its place. "Youre kind of a loser, but I love you"

— The End —