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Please cheer up.Are we quietly dreaming,
Or wandering through reality?
Give me a chance to stop the screaming,
And a chance to set me free.
Hold the barrel to your lips forgetting any meaning,
And all the questions - one shot and then we will see.
Deaf.Stop myself for a moment.
Can't you hear? Can't you hear?
Sit myself down for a second.
Can't. You. Hear?
Her voice is reaching out to me.
Her lies are all that I can see.
Shes running her fingers over scarred skin.
Sensing the haunting memories held within.
She strokes my throat with cold steel.
Its sharp edge, and the warmth I feel.
She pulls it slowly against my cheek.
Suddenly shaking, I feel so weak.
Skull crashing into the wall.
Tears begin to fall.
She holds onto my throat tightly.
Choking me ever so slightly.
She looks down and begins to speak.
And again. I. feel. so. weak.
"Can't you hear? Open your fucking mouth."
Placing the freezing cold onto the tip of my tongue.
I can taste the iron flavoured rose against the bite of steel.
Again she starts.
"Can't you hear? Swallow bitch."
Fucking WhoreDon't you go telling me theres a reward,
That I cannot fucking reach!
Telling me all your golden ideas and opinions,
That you forvever fucking preach!
Listen so hard, Im frustrated by you cus,
Twisting dark strands of hair around my finger.
Pull, tear, shred and rip it all fucking out.
The faster its done the longer pain will linger.
Right, now I can't hear you anymore.
My skulls filling with the screaming...
And shes telling me I'm a fucking whore!
A state where I wish I was dreaming.
So fucking cliche, yet Im sure it's real.
She loves all my frightened tears.
People sing it so very often.
For gods sake, shes feeding on my fears!
So fucking cliche, dammit. Yet she ain't real!
A shinning guardian angel - Beauty so pure.
Stained crimson. And her carcass black as coal.
Shes chaining me down. No cure.
So cliche it all seems for fucks sake!
Again, and again. Pulling metal through my skin.
It makes her smile oh so contentedly.
My blood to wash away all of my sin.
A voice. One so loud.
Other soul...Fingers out stretched, Lost within memories.
Painfully pressing my palms onto the icy mirror.
Fiery hot pain beginning to explode,
The glass cracks. Agony pulsating within my body.
I grapple with the urge to recoil.
Straining with every fibre of my being.
To retain the contact.
Of my blazing fingertips on the mirror the frozen surface.
The moon is tinted a blue hue here by the glowing moon.
I can tell my eyes are painfully red.
I greet the mirror with my other hand.
Softly touch the tip of my nose against my reflection.
Then pulling my hands down as I relax myself.
The melting rose colour liquid spills onto the darkened surface.
It smears as I move my skin within it.
I press my lips against my own in the mirror.
The soft hot flesh sticks slightly,
Before I pull my head back slightly,
Opening my eyes.
The image on the other side begins to convulse.
It warps, bends and shifts.
I slide my hands to the floor.
Wrists trailing red hot blood.
The crack in the glass grows bigger. Deeper.
End of the world.Burnt smouldering wings on an angels back,
Her fall from grace oh so sinister,
and those tears have stained her face,
She is a poised atop a throne made of roses.
An angel will rarely stay beautiful and pure.
Werent we all innocent in the beginning?
We grow darker day after day,
Slowly being claimed by the worlds decay.
Our minds become broken and twisted,
The wings tainted a crimson red.
And we begin to bleed and rust,
The smiling faces fade into the dust.
Our world is breaking down here can you tell?
Everythings turning into red and the siren is sounding.
And the tortured screams of the damned rise high.
Havent we been awaiting this?
We deserve this as humans.
We are selfish and cruel.
We all deserve to die.
When the red skies come.
Again. Stuff...Thats another ten minutes passed.
I feel. That nothing I do is worthwile.
I want someone to smile,
As a result of my existence.
Something that I've done or said.
To make a connection with someone else.
And for them to understand.
Them to feel compelled to smile a little.
Then I will feel as though Im someone.
And not nothing.
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.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
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
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Echoes we are like
in the middle
but not quite
what we truly
Tonight, I finished a roll of toilet paper
that I had started
a month, 8 days,
two hours, and 21 minutes ago.
Its genesis, June 11th,
one of the worst nights of my life,
I took a roll from my small bathroom,
and silently tucked it under my arm.
I couldn't let my girls know.
They couldn't know
I was going to use this as my broom.
They couldn't know
that I swept my shattered heart
under my bed.
And I wept.
My pillow taking my abuse,
my suffocation and my attacks.
My fingers squeezing it for dear life
and my knuckles as I punched it,
imagining it was her.
Then hugging it.
I only cried that hard
when I was about 6.
She was gone.
And so was I.
I cried every night
which would've marked
our 7-month anniversary.
And in the late days of that month,
I lied to myself.
And for that,
I regret every moment.
I wasn't ready.
At least I stopped it,
before we drowned each other
like the last woman.
Two weeks lat
sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexBut can we understand it?
Its thrown around so much, so broken and abused.
Weve tainted it havent we?
Love has become so over used.
Spoiled it with our lust of youth.
Can it not exist, as a sweet tender kiss?
Without a pressure in your neck,
To submiss, to fall, to get down on your knees.
Without love we would all fall into heck.
They're all doing it don't you see?
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