Until Tomorrow...Rocking back and forthUntil Tomorrow...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Trying to contain my self control
That I barely have
"She's addicted" they say
I'm a freak of nature
How do I deal with an addiction
How do I control myself
Its the only choice I have
"I'm fine" I say
I CAN contain myself
Just rocking all alone
Refuse to speak to anyone
Except the one I love the most
Muttering to myself in the dark
Almost losing it
"Do it" they whisper
My teeth start chattering
"I can't" I manage to say
I start weeping
What is happening to me?
"You can't live without it" they whisper
Will I make it through the night
Only to go through it all again
Dear, YouI don't like yelling. I don't like crying as much as I have the last few days, and I don't like thinking that we have to blame one or the other.Dear, You4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We're not even a something, we're drifting away even though we've been distant for ages it feels, I'm sick and you're angry.
I'm depressed and you don't understand why you can't fix me, I'm not broken, dear, just a little cracked.
And I don't know how to help you to help me.
I don't think I want help.
I worried about breathing the wrong kind of breath around you then I stopped and you took it as me not caring anymore.
I try so hard.
You don't think I do.
But I'm trying to fix me and you and us and what we don't have anymore.
I would take it all back if it hadn't been so tattooed in the foundation that started to crumble about 9 months in.
And every 5th I won't know what to say to you now. I don't know.
You showed music that I now love but refuse to listen to because it all hurts too badly.
You're inconsiderate and I'm as stubborn as they
Hollow HugsDon't tell me I'm special,Hollow Hugs4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Unless you mean it.
Don't whisper you love me,
Until you can scream it.
Don't make me feel happy,
And then throw me away.
Don't tell me you hate me,
Because I am gay.
Don't call me unnatural,
An abomination of God.
It's your hate, your anger,
You, that is odd.
I like boys,
And I love men,
Because I am gay;
I've always been.
The Art of PretendingI feel your words,The Art of Pretending3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a slap in the face.
For a second I hesitate,
before fixing a smile in place.
Make-up can only cover so much.
Tears burn skin.
they will heal.
My words, you dismiss,
as if I were a stupid child.
I ignore you.
I pretend you didn't mean it.
I redo my eyeliner,
just to look away.
nervosa.i.nervosa.4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
i was six years old the night my mother crept into my room, spread a second quilt on top of me, and began to quietly brush the hair of my barbies. she laid down on the cold wooden floor, one ear down - as if she could hear the small specks of dust moving across the downstairs hardwood.
"we're moving to waterford," she said, staring fondly at my lovingly-kept pocahontas doll. i hadn't seen her swipe it, and she played with the silky ends of the doll's purple-sewn hair in silence.
"i don't want to go," i told her, bleary-eyed and whining, "who wants to live in a place named after water? don't they have anything exciting to name it after?"
she stood with a thoughtful smile, something twisting in the murky brown pools of her eyes.
"water is like magic," she said. "water grows beautiful things."
and with that, she patted my foot, looked me in the eye, and took pocahontas away to the hall with her.
"she is beautiful," my mother told me softly. "i want her."
i closed my eyes
The Lost and The NamelessAs I turn the pages of the lost and nameless,The Lost and The Nameless3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I can't help but remember their swollen faces.
They gave it their all, but it wasn't enough.
To stand up to problems which proved too tough.
When they turned to friends, their friends turned away.
They had no one to listen, but so much to say.
Third-party bruises turned to first-party scars.
Their lives became prison. Their bodies became bars.
With blades and burns they masked their pain.
In suicide notes they placed their blame,
On those who fought with fists, and verbal abuse.
As they took their lives, this was their excuse.
To end their pain, to end it all,
But they fail to see their families fall,
To pieces and shambles as they try to make sense,
Of their tormented child's tragic offense.
They're dead and buried; their pain is gone.
But the rest survive in darkened dawn.
The pain they left us, we are forced to bear.
It was us who left them, who didn't care,
That they were hurting, just surviving to cope.
Waking up each day, without a gl