FlatlineI can't breathe It's so coldI'm drowning I can't seeThe light's fadingWhere am I?Who knows I can't hearSirens scream in my ears,Wrapping their fingers around my throatI shout and yell Only to hear silence once againI'm sinking Deeper, darkerUnknown I'm bruised, brokenThe breakers, they're comingThey've always held my handBut now they're letting goI gasp for air as blood fills my lungsI cryMy eyelids feels heavyMy throat is soreThe pulse from my chest grow slowerDarkness surrounds meHope is dimI'm gone
That Child - 1.5-- "IT" --I don't know him anymore. He's not the same "kiddo" he used to be. Who are you now?...Why do I even bother. He can't hear me anymore, can he?He's not the same. He's different.Not because he hugs his torn, tear-stained teddy bear to his chest and needs a night light on 24/7 or he'll start wailing. The fact that there are demented drawings that seems to be drawn by a 3 year old child scattered across the room makes no difference. Only thing that was unsettling was his continuous and seemingly endless stare at a plain, blank wall, standing still before him. His eyes are hollow. He mutters quietly, softer than a whisper, in a language that I, and most likely anyone else, don't, or will ever know. From what I can see, he's only the cold, lifeless shell of my dear ol' "kiddo." Other than that, there's nothing left. Nothing left of him. What are you now?...He giggles. No, not "he", "it.""What are you, what do you see
That Child - 01-- Rise and Shine --"Love. A special feeling for another being or yourself, so warm, it makes you melt. One that all will or have felt at least once in their lifetime, unless, love is their life. Love is what we humans call happiness, and happiness is love."...Don' t screw with me. Liars. There's no such thing. And before I knew this, it was too late. My world had already ended. People like I, who believed in "love" were left to rot in agony from the impact of the harsh reality we've denied. "Love" is only a dream, a delusion we created so we can say to ourselves, "I'm not alone." How stupid. There's no such thing as "love". No such thing... but I wonder, if there was, would you still be together?I stare out the window, counting the raindrops, one by one, as they fall on the glass, only to slip away like everything else had. I've always liked the rain, though, I never knew why. It's quiet. I miss sitting together, laughing together, being t
Jealousy There was a kid who was once friends with a monsterHis only friend, the first one, indeedInvisible to others, to his father and his motherBut happiness, would there lives leadThey had cherished each other's emotionsThey had learned to love both their devotionsBut then one day, the lad went away to play,And it all went downhill from there
SecondsTime goes fastRapid and vastIt has no mind, no body Only eyes to see usGrow and grow and grow; quicklyAnd before we know itIt's goneIt flew awayAbove the land, above the seaAbove the stars, above the skiesAbove you and meSo please, I beg, don't part nowStay here for a little while longerSince, unfortunately,We don't have all the time in the world
RiseThey're still hereThey're resurfacing Slowly, tauntingly,MockinglyAppearing among light and darkGlimpses and flickers of the bright pastAnd a bleak future
Ugly Scars“Why do you cut, dear?”“Doesn’t it hurt?”Of course it does –It hurts more than I’m worth“Why do you cut, dear?”“Aren’t you ashamed?”Of course I’m embarrassed,But I’m used to the blame.“Why do you cut, dear?”“Why don’t you stop?”Can you stop a dead bodyFrom starting to rot?Because, darling, you see,I’m not even here.I’m only a corpseWith no hope, and no fear.“Why do you cut dear?”Well, don’t you see?There’s a pain insideSo deep within meAnd it’s coming to the surfaceBut no one understandsSo I put that painInside my hands.And I lay it outFor all to seeOn wrists so redAnd forearms that bleed.“Why do you cut, dear?”“It’s ugly, you know.”Ha.“ugly” is exactlyWhat this is meantTo show.
bullets in a shot glassAgain the archers are aching,again their bones are breakinglike the cracks in the Colosseum.Death does not defendeager-eyedfighters; he does not fulfillgodly goals ofheaven and halos.I am inverted, introverted,a jester jeeringat kids who kisslike life is long enough to fall in love.my mouth is a machine,a new nightfallordering our soldiers outinto pits where they pray for peace.the quirks of ourridiculous readings rule us,sand us into sculpturesthin and tall, trembling.our universe is built on uncertaintyand vicious virtueswritten by long-dead warriors whoexpected to live forever, andI do not yield to yourwell-read zombies.
The Wrong Side Of MidNightOn The Doctor's TrainI Met The Princess Of The Dawn,But We WereOn The Wrong Side Of MidNight.
Self-Harm Isn't a HandbagPick at the scabs of the ghosts of scarsOn the insides of my wrists,White hot pain memories shoot up my veinsAnd the tear vapour creates mistsIn the lenses of my glasses.My world narrows down to thoseWhite stitch marks that keep thePatchwork of my forearms and thighsTogether,Keeping the dark ugly hurtOn the insidesForever.How could I have done this to myself?Could I blame you?And him?And her too?No.I’m a big girl now,And the blame rests on my wrists,That flicked the bladeAnd sprayed the blood,And the mind that forbadeMe to ask for help.I’ve said it beforeAnd I’ll say it again;It isn’t beautifulTo put yourself through such pain.When your head is buzzingFrom the hit of the highOf a new cut on your thigh,Or your mind is lost in a mistOf ecstasy from a new sliceOn your wristAnd you’re dependent on itA junkie needing a hit,It isn’t pretty or cute or special.No amount of kissesWill undo the cutsOr absorb the scars.No
Anxiety attackAs the attack begins,I feel myself slipping away again.And I question things that are better left unsaid.And contemplate if I am better off dead.My anxiety is killing me,I feel my hands shaking.And I am sobbing.And am I dying?I am just trying,To get a grip.But I feel my reality slip through my finger tips.Nothing is real,Except every bit of pain my mind forces me to feel.Every memory that I had shoved away.Is now racing around my brain.It's driving me insane.And my limbs turn to jello.Every time my head hits the pillow,Before I go to bed.I start to panic and I am wide awake instead.More thoughts are swarming around like a hurricane.Please,Make it stop!And just like that,The attack is gone.
he saved me, but he killed me._i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest. it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes you walked out, your five year old eyes greener thansunlit saplingsyou reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me."what's your name?"daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.I looked at the rose in my hand."Rose."you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.i didn't understand but I knew.ii. i forgot about you for 1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,you shoutedmy name, but i didn't recognize youuntil i saw your eyes.iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.i screamed, and you carried me home.iv. i didn't talk for a week. i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.you sat next to me in the pouring rain,your war
TearsDon't cryYou have friendsYou have familyYou have loveDon't cryYou have shelterYou have foodYou have waterDon't cryYou have everything you needDon't cryFor there's still hope