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Please don't open this door,
Just let me be.
Alone here with my lies, can't you see?
Perhaps not, but that's okay,
Because maybe you'll see them another day.

Scratching my skin,
Wishing it would tear open so I could finally be free.
But fairy tales don't come true here,
And I am stuck forever in this reality.

There is no way out,
For I’ve learned the hard way.
But I've also come to accept the fact that,
Life has become completely grey.

Please don't open me, I am perfectly fine,
Because I can just sit here and pass the time.
12:08, Sunday night, dreading a tomorrow.
c Ashrah
 Apr 2016 Wyvern Queen
Skaidrum
...
1.  Can someone
            anyone,
            please,
            teach me,  
            how
            to stop the running
            of blood
            from a wound?
2.   I don't like
            the way
            your body
            wears red;
            it's a warm
            stain
            I can't seem to
            wash
            from your cotton clothes
            or
            my porcelain mind.
3.  Your kindness; I have never realized
            that it was it's
            very own
            sort
            of torture.
            Even blood fell
            down;
            drained
            out;
     ­       cared
            about;
            left
            with­out;
            someone blissfully stupid
                             like me.
4.   I should've,
            I would've,
            I could've,
            listened to my father's instructions
            but I didn't.
            I still chase it,
            the second glass star
            to the right.
            I wasn't ready
            for what guilt
            I found;
            I never would've
            been anyways.
5.   Captain hook learned
             how simple
             it was;
             and used a
             black gun
             to ****** Peter,
             and rob him of his'
             favorite lost boy.
             He left the weapon
             in the sleight
             of my hand.
             "Time to grow up, my dear."
6.    Nine years later,
              between now
              and long ago;
              I still create
              after
              images
              whenever I give someone
              the power
              to mention
              your name.
7.     Father always told me
              fairy tales weren't real.
              *******;
              You were mine.
              You were real.
              I still don't listen
              to father.
8.    You are the dauntless touch,
              to my sense
              of adventure
              to my flavor
              of judgment,
              to my frigid heart of
              bravery.
              I don't have what it
              takes
              to
change.
              Not anymore.
9.     One day I will join you.
               The sooner,
               the better.
               So how pointless is it
               that I write
               these letters,
               and remind myself
               that I am much older
               and very
               lonely?
              "Do you miss me as much as I
                     miss you?

...
Headstones do not have mouths;
only ears. 
 Graves are the best
of listeners.

© Copywrite Skaidrum


April 3rd, 2007.
Death of: Jack-Addison.
Cause of Death: Bullet Wound.
Witness:  Me
My princesses,
Adorned with silver,
And fire,
My moonbeam,
And my queen,
Who has hurt you so dearly?

The light I adored has left your eyes,
It's almost as if you are walking corpses.

Where can I find the magic spell,
To bring that light back?
To see your beautiful smiles,
Lighting up the stars above.

You are my constellations,
My wonders,
And I will do anything I can,
To keep you from fading away.
I hope you two know who you are....
And how much you mean to me.
I'm sorry if I'm the one that hurt you.
 Apr 2016 Wyvern Queen
Skaidrum
...
and like a grey jewel

"How are you feeling?"
Like solace in ocean foam
"What happened?"
She cast salt on my heart
"Why?"
Because I'm the moon's crucifixion
"Who did this?"
The wolves on the water
"Where are they?"
Are you sure you want to ask that question?

you were polished

A rose has made you her prey
"What do you mean?"
Logic is your sword; why is it dull?
"How is it dull?"
Take notice to the black rust instead
"Did she do that?"
Unpredictable is the chaos of a flower
"You think so?"
I know so
"What are you trying to say?"
You need to recognize what weeds are in disguise

to be brilliant;

"You're crying..."
For your misfortune.
"What misfortune?"
Distance is a sadistic torture, I've heard
"I am aware of that."
What's it like, utter helplessness?
"I cannot describe it."
Let me ask you something, though
"What would that be?"
Where would you be without your demons?
"In a better place."
Oh, but doesn't love come at a cruel cost?

to be valued

"All I want is for you to be happy."
I am happy
"You are lying."
What's the difference?
"You deserve everything you've ever wanted."
Does that include death?

but your value

You remind me of this place
"What place?"
The sea of concrete on death's spine
"What is a sea of concrete?"
Take this journey on dead waters
"Where am I going?"
Anywhere but here
"Will you come with me?"
Perhaps

isn't just how bright you shine in the sun---

"Thank you."
For what, grey jewel?
"For always being there when I needed you."
The darkness tastes a little sweeter with your company
"Does it really?"
I could never lie to the truth
"What about me?"
You are the truth


but it's how you don't decay in darkness

Look behind you
"Do I want to?"
Nullify your fear
"What could it be?"
these cracks of hope in the sea of rock
"A...blooming crystal lily?"


"I watched our friendship flower from the concrete."
...
I am proud
to call myself your friend.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
You need to save yourself before you can save anyone else, alright,
but that doesn't mean that you have to save yourself alone;
heros are never alone.
Thank you Ms. Wiebe for being here for me.
I needed that.
the sun will rise again, yes;
but wishing won't bring it back
*any sooner
When I was four...
I lost my great grandmother.
Didn't know her well,
But it didn't take much to see she was a sweet, kind soul.
I stood in the rain and wind at her funeral,
Clinging to my mothers arms,
Staring at the coffin blankly, because I didn't know what else to do.

When I was eight...
I lost my best friend.
His hair was as fiery as mine,
We played at recess every day.
One day he stopped coming to school,
You only knew where he was if you asked,
That's how his parents wanted it.
He came back, once.
Balding, attached to an IV,
Just to watch us play one more time.
Then he was gone.
I still didn't know what to do.
The school put up a plaque in his name,
And planted him a tree to live on for him.

When I was eleven,
I lost someone who was like a second father to me.
He loved me and my mother,
And we loved him.
I never got to tell him that....
He was an alcoholic.
And, it ******* his heart.
My mom woke up to a dead man,
Took him to the hospital.
That night, she watched him being kept alive by machines,
And was told he had no chance of waking up.
She watched his family and friends make the decision to pull the plug.
I didn't know until later, I was with my biological father.
I didn't see my mom for a week.
I didn't eat or drink that whole time.
I was empty.
I didn't cry until they played his favorite song at the funeral,
A familiar one to me.
I sobbed quietly into my mother's lap,
Trying not to disturb the others.

That night,
I prayed for the first time,
Just to try and talk to him.


When I was fifteen,
A mere four months ago.
Nearly five.
I lost another friend,
Who I wish I knew better.
He battled cancer for a year.
We didn't see him for months on end,
Because he couldn't come to school.
And a month or so after he finally started getting better,
Coming back to school,
He got sick....
And his body couldn't handle it.
At first, I was more worried about making sure my other friends were okay,
And then it hit me.
I stayed with them in the counselor's office for the last half of the school day,
Crying,
Writing to him that I was sorry.
I cried the next day at his memorial,
And then at his funeral.
It still hits me sometimes,
Like waking up from a dream,
To find that life is a nightmare.
And I break all over again.

Just before that,
Another friend of mine,
Told me they only had two years left...
There were problems with a vital ***** of theirs,
And they were worsening.
I've had to secretly bear this,
No one else can know.
I'm waiting for that day to come.

A few days ago,
My current best friend,
My family,
Said they may only have a year left.
Internal wounds that wont heal,
Blood loss,
That's all I can think.
If the doctors can't fix this...
Who can?

Slowly,
I've been losing pieces of myself,
Giving it to them,
Horcruxes, if you will,
And when they leave this world behind,
So does that part of me...
Each person that dies hurts worse than the last,
Because it's just adding onto the pile of pain,
That I can't get over.
I hardly have the strength to hold on to who I am anymore...

*Why can't I be next in line instead?
I don't endorse suicide, just so you know.
I'm also a hypocrite.
Don't bend at the rubble at your feet
Grey skies and dried blood will waste away
Time has kneeled over
The view, no sudden moves
The minor lift causes a greater fall....
Oh and angels have faked that night
Wings ripped and halos dulled
Lost
In the abyss
Abuse and alcohol
Cigarettes and smoke
Oh they fill her as well
Ghosts have poured sorrow in your void
The deeper the cut the more you feel
And the less you sense
Mindless hearts
Hold on tight
Grip your soul with all your worth
I know you've just been torn

*This isn't everything you are.
For you.
Skaidrum, this isn't you. I'm so sorry. Love and best wishes .
“Inconvenience.”
“That's all I've ever felt”
With parents that work too much, and very few friends,
“I never got any help.”

As young siblings we hated each other,
The social gap between me and my best friend grew,
“There really wasn't much else I could do.”
                                               “Is there something wrong with me?”
               “Do they not like me?”

“But mom, we never do anything together. We don't go anywhere. And there’s nothing to do at home.”

“That's because we don't have the extra money to do anything fun, sweetie. And I’m sorry, you’ll just have to deal with what we have.”

I don't think she knew that all I would have wanted was a walk in the park together, a block from our house.
“Even then, she never had the time.”
                            “Why does she have to work so much?”
                                                                ­  “Am I really asking for a lot?”

I knew I was no normal child.
But it would have been nice if my father would not have acknowledged it,
If he would have played along like my mother,
To not signal me out so harshly when they had a perfectly good son 3 years older than me.
“Why’d they even have a second child?”
            “We all know he’s way better than me.”                                                  
       “He’ll hardly talk to me… I guess he knows it too…”
                                                                 ­      “Do I matter to them?”

As I got older, I asked my parents for more things. Simple things. They were simple.
“I swear”                                    “I swear”
                  “They were simple”        
                                                ­                             ”Am I asking too much?”

However, with these requests came harsh answers, harsher than I expected at age 10.
I eventually learned to quit asking, knowing what the answer would be.
Every time I asked I felt that I would only be an inconvenience.
I felt that I would only cause them trouble.
This was the start of a habit.
“Wait, no”
                  “That’s not it.”
                                            “It was more than that”
           ”It was life lasting”
It was the start of a whole new section of my personality.
The fear of causing trouble to others.
The fear of people going out of their way for me.

“I can give you a ride home from school if you want?”
“I can pay for your lunch today, it's no big deal”
“No, it’s fine really. I’ll figure it out. It’s fine.”

As long as I don't have to feel any guilt,
I promise I won't accept help from you.
I promise I won't accept favors from you.
I promise I wont cause trouble for you.
Please..
Please,
Please.
              “Please”
         ­                      “Please”
                                               “I can do this on my own”
                                                           ­ ”I don’t need help”
                             ”My only request”
         ”Is to please…..”

*
Don't let me be an Inconvenience to you.
No matter how much I explain, the people around me never seem to understand that I cannot take things lightly.
And I never knew how to explain this dilemma to them. Even now, I feel as if I have not explained it properly. This topic is nothing light to me. I cannot lighten up. This is how I am. I hope that people around me learn to accept this.
“Session three;
Subject has loss of appetite.
Two days since Subject’s last meal.
Loss of weight; 16.234 kilograms
and counting.”

It’s two till midnight.
“It’s three forty-three in the morning.”
That doesn’t matter to her.
“Why?”
She said it’s all wasted the same.

sinner
“Did she come again?”
In and out of silver.
“Explain.”
She got into my blood,
“How?”
With those cloudless eyes.
“Why?”
There weren’t enough.
“Of what?”
Rubies.
“Why do you need rubies?”
Count every time we’ve fallen.
“Why?”
She regrets it.
“Who regrets it?”
Tasting the wolf.

Hauntless
“Why aren’t you eating?”
I miss him.
“Who?”
It makes me sick.
“What?”
I’ve wasted.
“What did you waste?”
Please.

You found weakness.
“Do you know what’s happening?”
Yes;
Atlas gave me his burden.

“You cannot carry that.”
She lets me.
“Who?”
Lily-scathed and lapis shelled.
“What?”
She was so pretty.
“Who was?”
Lavender in the cosmos.
“Lavender?”
Yes!
Basking in folding chambers.

“I don’t understand.”
She was my west.
“What do you mean?”
I followed her into the sun.


Why didn’t he keep me?
“Who is ‘he’?”
My north star.
“The north star?”
That little bird with her owlet wings.
“What?”
Moons with comfort.
“Moons?”
No one wants to fall alone.

Spiteful
Don’t be afraid.
“I’m not.”
You are.
“I’m not.”
I like the way you smoke in here.
“I don’t smoke.”
Quiet your heart.
“What?”
You’re afraid.
“I’m not.”
Don't lie anymore.

“I-
-
I am.”

Smile soft.

“Assessment end;
Subject has gotten to me.”
de·cay
dəˈkā/
verb
verb: decay; past tense: decayed;

decline in quality, power, or vigor; to (of a physical quantity) undergo a gradual decrease.
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