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Life StoryPeople never understand when I say I'm ugly.
They never really look hard enough to see,
The broken soul behind my eyes,
The blackened heart inside of me.
They never understand how I can call myself mutilated,
Till I lift up my sleeve and they see,
A whole new mountain range carved into my skin,
The mould and decay left from my devils within.
Oh no I'm not ugly at all,
Their lying mouths tell me,if I recall,
But I know,and I can see,
That their eyes tall a whole different story.
They throw me into a hospital,
All because I tell honestly what they're all thinking inside.
"Oh no my darling, oh no my dear, go with the doctor you'll be all better soon."
I'll be cured of what? Honesty?
You can't look me in the eye,
Your eyes wander to my sleeve,
Curiousity building up inside of you,
Is there any new ugly to see?
No one understands what I mean when I call myself ugly.
No one really knows what it's like to be me,
To have to carve your life story,
Into your very own skin.
HauntedJust please take me away,
From this place and all that haunts me,
Lift me up and carry me off,
In soul and in a coffin.
Wipe these scars away,
Leave no trace or memory,
Of the girl with a hope filled heart,
A haunted past and broken dreams.
The wind orse up and carried away,
The path I'd chosen to walk on.
No direction or clarification,
I was blind to all who held me.
To those who watched me walk alone,
I suppose I looked intoxicated.
To those who saw beyond the veil,
I looked like a lost soul broken beyond repair.
There are things that haunt me,
Ordeals I'd rather forget.
Broken dreams and broken hearts,
Are my trail of breadcrumbs.
I have no light at the end of the turnnel,
I never got my second chance.
My silver lining never showed,
No penny thrown my way.
My only friends are the ghosts of my tears,
My only refuge a bloody harmony,
Just please take me away,
From this place and all that haunts me.
Not A Promise Can Be MadeI can't promise you that all will be well,
No pot of gold or three wishes wrapped up with a bow.
No sun will shine down or carol sing your arrival back
To this world of forgotten things and broken dreams.
The pavement isn't paved with gold,
And I can't light your way with a diamond chandelier.
There is no promised land or heaven to aim your steps towards,
No feast awaiting your humble presence.
I cannot give you all your dreams,
Completed and signed off with a seal,
Served on a silver platter,
To hang around and to be viewed at your leisure.
Life won't be a fairy tale,
No guaranteed happy ending,
No story or script to follow,
And your princesses will come and go.
There will be rough days, sad days,
Those days when nothing goes right.
A time will come when you just ask "why?!"
And curl up away and hide.
None of these can I say will happen,
Not one can I offer to you with a great deal of certainty,
But there is something I can do,
A precious gift I can bestow upon you.
I will stand by yo
Time Used Up5 months,
Been and gone.
Our time is up,
Our story done.
It went too fast,
It came to early,
Our time togther,
Far too fleeting.
We chose the right partner,
But far too early,
We were meant to be,
Just not right now.
We spent our time to young,
Lost the chance we had.
And now I can't help but wonder,
If that's all we'll ever have.
Cos we held too close,
Loved too quick,
Kissed too early,
And now we may never do so again.
Perfect HallucinationThey say perfect isn't real,
That it's all an illusion,
You're my favourite hallucination.
You've given me so much,
By just being you,
Just smiling at me,
Makes the world spin and dance.
We've been through hell,
And yet here we are,
Your scars just make you beautiful,
Because they show that you survived.
You're my perfect person,
Who's given me a perfect day,
Full of perfect moments,
Which are now perfect memories.
They say perfect isn't real,
That it's all an illusion,
You're my favourite hallucination.
That Was YesterdayYou used to give me compliments,
You used to smile when you saw me,
You used to say 'I love you,'
And hold me all night.
We used to laugh and joke together,
Kiss and cuddle,
And bicker and argue,
Just like an old married couple.
Those good old days,
When we'd spend the whole day with one another,
Play in the sunshine,
Kiss in the rain.
You said we're forever,
You said you'd never leave,
Leave me behind,
You said you weren't going to give up on me.
You told me we were perfect,
You told me I was the best thing,
To ever happen to you.
You told me I was beautiful.
But that was yesterday.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
MusicWhen I am downhearted,
When my heart is broken,
My eyes filled with tears,
My mouth barely able to stutter a single word.
Music steps in to talk for me.
When I am dancing with laughter,
When I can't stop smiling long enough to say a single word,
When I am too full of emotion,
To utter a single sentence.
Music steps in to talk for me.
When we are all down and depressed,
We curl up with our headphones in,
We turn down the volume of life and the world,
And we turn up the volume of our music.
Music's created from the heart,
It speaks from the soul,
So when we can't do or say a thing,
Music steps in.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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