Not AllowedI must be strong, I cannot cry
Tears only embarrass the people around me
I cannot fail, I cannot
Failure only tarnishes the family name
I am not allowed to grieve
That would only cause people to ask questions
Questions that I can't answer
Questions that would ruin a reputation
Questions are not acceptable.
I must pretend, and not cry.
Last NightMore Like This
I was turning in my bed
I tried to fall asleep
And counted a million sheep instead.
Poisonyour mind a valley of confusionMore Like This
poison waves rolling across its surface
I, the cloud roams over, bursting full
rain unleashes, like Hell on Earth
my love like the sun,
tries desperately to break the storm
the barren lands are all that's left
you don't see the care I put into those precious plants
the flowers are wilted
oblivion caused you to stop watering them
lies, like acid rain
destroyed those pretty poppies
I'm broken and you're confused
and a war zone is all that's left
AnnotationsI'll reconstruct my father wrong,More Like This
Because no one here wants to be reminded
Of him, of me, and of the truth.
So I'll raise my glass,
Tell my lies,
And slip into a stupor and a red wine headache.
I won't tell you about the drunken disasters,
The lonely birthdays,
Or how my mother cried at night.
I'll work up a tear
And give a toast,
"To the greatest man who ever lived."
Even if he's not the man I'm really talking about.
AbuseThere was a girl in a suburban town,More Like This
Her hair was brown.
Friends with everyone,
Life was fun.
Day after day,
In sweet teenage bliss,
No one would guess,
that she feels like this.
Never a frown,
No one would guess her life was crashing down.
No one could guess she was being beat,
Or the fate that she would meet.
She always had on her sleeves,
And always walked away fast as she leaves.
I never would've known of the bruise...
And then one day she was on the news.
"Today in a suburban town
A girl has died..."
Her hair was brown.
Her dad had beat her till she died.
Yet there is no evidence that she cried.
She had a smile on her face,
A look so peaceful,
No one can replace.
I had to wipe away a tear from my eyes,
And had to push back the sting,
It had to be lies.
It was her picture,
And it was her house,
That's evidence more.
But my friend couldn't be dead.
Just the night before we were laughing and painting each other's nails on my bed!
I took off in
Call her drunk, she likes thatYou could call her drunk, call her sober or three hundred doves,More Like This
dying, bird flu intoxicated and drowning in the deep end of the pool,
chlorinated. You could call her drunk, but she wouldnt understand your words,
and youd be slurring again. Shes talking fine. Shes twenty rubber bands,
snapping all at once.
You could call her drunk, but you cant remember her number.
You could call her drunk but shes just a little tipsy at this hour, too wild
to be wasting away. You can see her wasting away, but now there are three
of her and you dont remember if she chugged the bottle
or if it was you.
It doesnt really make a difference.
how to get drunk and not mean itfirst:More Like This
say you’re just looking to have fun.
don’t tell her about the last time this happened.
plan on staying away from beds and grabby hands.
plan on forgetting for once.
lay in bed anyway because you trust her.
debate if that’s wise.
contemplate the universe and what dying feels like.
decide it sounds like her laughter.
feel like dying.
let her hold you.
try to decide if you want to remember this tomorrow.
whisper into her mouth that you love her.
let her shakily toss it back.
lie to yourself.
say you’ll forget.
wake up with her in the other bed.
complain about the headache.
don’t complain about the lack of warmth.
she’ll ask if you remember last night.
be hurt when she does too.
write poetry about how you don’t care.
my first drunk poemwriters write whilst drunkMore Like This
because every word
fumbled and smisspelled
comes out beautifully
because of the truth it holds
my ear bleeds from constant burns
and my stomach burns from constant bleeds
because beauty is never enough untouched, it seems,
the way anything i put in me is always too much.
i bled and evoked sympathy tonight.
i drank until i needed a body to stand me straight.
my organs writhed like heathens in moonlight ritual
and i let it shake.
i shook to be honest
but i was never honest enough
to admit from where the vibration came.
i shook with fear
and never, ever being adequate
or even happy
but i smiled and let everyone know
that i felt like myself,
and no one ever needed to know
that the only reason i felt so honest
was because i never feel like i can
stand on my own two feet unaided
or stop from trembling
or hold in outbursts of emotion
because if i do,
i know i'll break.
Live Life, Be BraveSo the morning has once again brokenMore Like This
Into shattered pieces of a brand new day
And I’m trying to avoid asking myself
If I’m here and if I’m feeling okay
You see, yesterday I fractured my mind
Now today I am avoiding the cracks
That pave my path towards recovery
But one day I promise I’ll get back
‘You will get back to where exactly?’
With puzzled faces I hear my friends ask
To a point where I feel I am capable
Of completing simple every day tasks
That each one of you will take for granted
But are the fabric of my sanity
That I will weave into a blanket of hope
To shelter my mind from misery
Now the evening has once again arrived
Bright lights ask if I am here or there
So long as I am where I am loved
My reflection and I don’t really care
Because I know I am stronger than this
I am more than the intrusions my mind craves
A 'no entry' sign now greets them at my door
It’s time to just live life and be brave
Aquarius: Children Of The Celestial SeaMore Like This
AQUARIUS: Children of the Celestial Sea
Zodiac Sign Aquarius
The concept of Astrology or “study of the stars” has been around since the ancient world and can be traced as far back as the first dynasty of Mesopotamia.
For some the stars are a portent of the future and help inform one on the best course of action to take based on the stars’ alignment. If born under a specific “star” or month during the year you may have certain characteristics and manneri
Talking to Someone Suffering from DepressionThis is a deeply personal post as well as one that I am sure a lot of people can relate to, so I decided to make it public, in the hopes of spreading awareness through it.More Like This
Depression and anxiety are illnesses that are crippling and oppressing, that follow you anywhere you go, and that will, even if you think they might have left you, lurk around the next corner just to jump out at you when you least expect and need it. In many cases neither are conditions that can be fully healed, but you can learn to deal with them, how to live your life without letting them drive you to a point of no return. A huge part of getting there is having an environment that accepts you and your issues, and that offers the right support. However, not all support that is well-meant will actually come off as such. Often people will say things because they want to help, but what they say, and sometimes how they say it, will achieve the opposite. If you want to understand what you should and should not say
Depression and The Five SensesI. Depression smells like cigarette smoke.More Like This
Its tendrils wrap around my mind and cloud my clear thinking.
It makes my throat burn,
With words I wish I could scream.
Depression smells like your old coat, hanging up in the hall closet.
The same coat you came home in
When your lungs finally collapsed in on you.
I wonder if a mind could do that.
Collapse in on itself.
Until there is nothing but smoke and the dark murk
Of late night thoughts.
Depression feels like walking out into a frozen over lake.
And falling through the fragile ice.
Between the dark and the light
Inside of my mind.
Suddenly everything is suspended.
I am drifting.
My mind is numb with frost bite.
Who knew I could be this cold?
Depression sounds like a completely silent room.
When the only thing that makes a noise
Is my thoughts.
Suddenly, every emotion is amplified by the quiet.
Silence is a perfect canvas for questioning everything about your existence.
Moments like this make me feel
As if I am not even real.
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,More Like This
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choose to die.
If depression was an option...
I’d choose to say goodbye.
A Contagious Mental PainThey tape their lips with kind words,More Like This
yet their heads will boil
with voices unheard.
Voices of anger, guilt,
Curses that speak of what the
A mental illness is a two way streak,
it often brings more than one
It's not intentional in the least,
but it happens
to those who are considered
The truth is it's a cloud that touches all,
and not one person is spared
the wrath or the fall.
They're changed just as much as
that who's suffering,
and it's foolish to assume
that it harms a single party.
Your mother sits in her bed
and prays daily,
that suicide may never take her baby.
And your father tries to understand
depression, he does!
It's a battle he tries
to win with love.
Sometimes therapy is not
just for the inflicted,
but for those who
partook in the journey
from the beginning.
Sometimes they keep
their feelings to themselves,
because it's selfish
to assume a mental illness
is hurting others than
the one in their own personal
Was Beauty, Now BeastComing back again, the same situation,More Like This
Everything has changed due to my perpetration.
Beauty used to be in every word that I speak,
But I spat so much poison, that I can barely squeak!
I used to write a fantasy and now I'm simply dreamless,
I'm struggling with this sickness, it leaves me solely listless,
Or maybe I'm just soulless, my eyes are milky blind,
Where once I saw the beauty; I only see the grind
It should be a crime, a poet falling low,
The world has lost an artist; it gained a rapper though.
But all I have is acid, recriminating bile,
My style is simply vile; I've lost the will to smile.
But maybe if I try, I might get something back.
I guess I need to stop the hate to put me back on track.
You gotta believe meI'm a mistakeMore Like This
and you see, it's not self harming.
I'm just trying to do the corrections by myself.
I'm trying to write over the past
Retrace my steps and start from a place that's better,
But at the end
of the night I'm just covered in dirty
// lines and crossed xX/x through
that didn't give me anything.
but I am still trying.
You gotta believe me, I am
and this isn't self harm sweetheart,
this is self-loathing.
A Sky Full of WordsA million different worldsMore Like This
In black print
For my mind to sprint
A million escape doors
For me to
Perhaps I'll fall down a rabbit hole,
Or glide through Gion;
Smoke some metaphors,
Or wonder where She has gone.
I might ride on a dragon,
Or explore the thoughts of a dying man;
Maybe I'll meet Mr Darcy,
Or fly with Peter Pan.
I could have a chat with Morrie,
Or wander through Mansfield Park;
I could fight vampires,
Or make a revolution spark.
I might rock out with Lestat
Or philosophise with Louis;
Or maybe I'll go green,
Or hang out with Harry.
Sometimes I feel lost,
And that's okay;
Stories of a million lives
Remind me that
I will be just a story
Art Needs YouA scene can be painted with words as well as brush strokes. The words are like the colors. There tone, the specific word, can change the meaning of a sentence drastically. The page, whether it is a computer page or paper, is the canvas.More Like This
It is the blank slate that an artist must put their mark. The idea can be daunting-How am I to fill a space so white? So blank? Then the words-or the paint-begin to flow. The idea was there all along, just waiting to be freed. It may not be what was originally intended, but it is art nonetheless. It doesn’t have to be Da Vinci or Hemingway. It may never reach greatness. However, you created something, no matter how novice, or how professional. Its practice, learning, and heart. You can’t have art without heart.
You pour heart and soul into everything you create. It makes the art come to life. You post it with faith and hope. Faith that you’d done the best you could. Hope that others would like what you worked so hard to create
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the KnightMore Like This
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
SerendipitySilent singer, you paint a dreamMore Like This
in spaces, in words
Breath and thought aligned
sonatinas to be seen
unheard but heeded
Now your songs slip drunken
laden full, slow sighs
Smiling like fire on wet wood
mast and sail needed
From the deep well of my spine
cold bucket, warm stars
reflected the dome of my head
I recall who you are
and sing instead
your words, and mine
Draw the mirror dripping from deep
the lowest you've been
the darkest of you
Even there you've planted
the music that alight my apex
brilliant night sky
a pleasant surprise
Unsure. 18. -Sensitive.“And then he’d tell me he loved me… I-I never understood why he did it,” Edward mumbled into Harvey’s chest, holding him tight.More Like This
Harvey ran his hand over Edward’s naked back, stopping at the base of the man’s spine, “That sounds… Uh…”
Edward smirked, “You don’t know how to react to that do you?”
Harvey shook his head, “You know… I’m awful at things like this, I’m sorry.”
Edward chuckled, “It’s ok. It’s nice actually…” he took Harvey’s hand, playing with the man’s fingers, “When I talk to Jon about it, he goes off on rants about what it means and how it has or could have affected me… It’s nice to just have someone who listens.”
“I’m better at just listening,” Harvey said quietly, watching Edward play with his hand. The smaller man hummed and smiled, focusing completely on the burned hand
Deep sleep. Riddler and Twoface. (51)Edward woke from his sleep, sweat pouring from him, mixing with the tears that were falling from his eyes.More Like This
He let out a short sob, trying to quell the noise as it erupted from his lips, inhaling quickly, as if he was trying to pull the noise back down his throat.
He sat up quickly, panting, bringing his knees to his chest, looking around the dark room.
“…He’s not here,” he said to calm himself, “He’s not here, you’re at home, at Harvey’s, he’s not here.”
He swallowed dryly, wiping his eyes and forehead with his sleeve.
Still taking short, juddering breaths, he tentatively swung his legs to the floor; he needed a drink.
‘It’s ok’ he kept saying in his head, ‘he’s not here.’
He walked out into the hall, tears still falling from him, trying not to make any noise.
This is why he needed a cat; so that when this happened he had something to blame the scary little noises on, somethi
Good Luck KissPeter and Wade sat in the Avenger’s Tower, plopped down on a couch just to snuggle. Wade had had a long mission yesterday, and Peter had refused to let him do anything in order to let him ‘rest up’. Of course, Wade found this as an excuse to lay on something comfortable and have slow and sweet make out sessions with his super hero boyfriend.More Like This
The day was coming to a close, and the large window before them was a great way to watch the setting sun. Wade new Peter loved that kind of stuff, which is particularly why he chose this spot to relax. He was just glad he could relax with Peter.
Deadpool lay on his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch, with Spiderman laying on top of him, his head resting on Wade’s chest and their fingers intertwined together. Wade stared down at Peter’s mop of brown hair, and suddenly noticed the hero’s slow rhythmic breathing. He hadn’t realized they hadn’t been speaking for quite some time, and Pet
Spideypool prompt oneThe two masked men were walking through the alleyways, Spiderman trying to handwave his shortness of breath on the long and drawn out battle they had just endured. He was walking because he didn't feel like leaving Deadpool behind. Or so he said.More Like This
That excuse never seemed to enter his brain at other times, and Deadpool couldn't help but be a little worried. They were on their way back to Parker's apartment, and Deadpool stopped his friend quickly by placing a hand on his shoulder.
Old Movies - Bucky x ReaderMore Like This
"Happy birthday day to you," The singing voice drew closer and closer to her. She lay on her bed, attempting to conceal her smile as her eyes remain closed. "Happy birthday to you," The side of her bed sinks. "Happy birthday dear, (Y/N)," She peels her eyes open to find Bucky staring down at her with a large goofy smile on his face. "Happy birthday to you."
She smiles up at him. "Good morning."
(Y/N) reaches up and runs her fingers through his short hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Bucky kisses her forehead and trails his lips down her nose until he reaches her lips. She returns the gesture, pulling him closer to her. When the pull away, his large smile remains on his face.
"Good morning, honey," He kisses her cheek. "Look who's another year older. I can already see the wrinkles."
"Says the man that is quite literally old enough to be my grandfather."
"Hey! Respect your elders."
(Y/N) laughs and Bucky can't help but laugh along with her. Bucky reaches over to her hand with his non-met
Experiment - Irene Adler x ReaderMore Like This
"Oh dear," Irene says, turning her onto her side and helping the other woman vomit into the bucket beside the bed. "Be careful. Don't choke on your vomit. That is not an attractive thing to do."
"What did..what did yo.." She slurs. She attempts to push herself off of the bed but her limbs are numb.
"It was just an experiment," She explains, pushing her down onto the bed. "Don't worry. You'll be fine after a few hours. You just need to sleep it off."
"But I just.."
"Hush now," Irene runs her hand across her cheek. "You need to rest," She helps her pull the cover over her shoulder. She pecks her cheek, leaving an imprint of her lipstick on her cheek. "I'll check on you in the morning when I come home. Kate will keep an eye on you."
The woman saunters away from the bed. She stares at the other woman in the bed, mumbling to herself and slowly drifting off into a deep sleep. She smirks to herself before leaving the room, and leaving the house for her nightly routine.
Cut - Dean x ReaderI sit in the bathroom of the bunker with a pair of scissors in my hand. I stare back at my reflection before grabbing a piece of my hair and holding the scissors beneath it.More Like This
I can do this. I can do this. It's just hair, right? It can always grow back; it may take some time but it can grow back. It's just hair. It is just hair.
First chunk is gone. Okay, I can does this.
It runs smoother than I thought it would. Strand after strand falls and lands in the sink, on the counter and on the floor. My hands are shaking as I continue to cut away at my hair. Each strand falls and I feel like crying.
I need a change in my life, sure. This was a bit eccentric for my liking however; but it has to be done. My hair is irritating, on hunts it gets in the way and I can't concentrate when it falls in front of my eyes or gets caught on a branch. This is a better option and is also convenient. The only problem is, is who I live with and their reactions. More importantly: my boyfriend.
Tattoos - Dean x ReaderMore Like This
"You didn't tell me you had this little thing." Dean's finger taps against the side of her rib cage that was showing due to the large side gap of her tank top.
(Y/N) lifts her arm up to catch a glimpse of the tattoo had his eyes were glued onto. She smiles and shrugs.
"After the anti-possession one on my hip I thought that it would be a good idea to get another one that had nothing to do with the hunter business," She takes a step away from him with her hand above her head. "Looks good, doesn't it?"
Dean nods, smiling. "I wouldn't expect you to get something so..simple," He steps behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. "Got a meaning behind it or did you get it when you were drunk?"
She smiles and attempts to finish putting on her makeup and do her hair while Dean clung onto her. He leans his chin against her shoulder, watching her on the mirror with a smile. He listens intently to her story, kissing her shoulder and the back of her neck every so often.
"Well, since it's an arr
Bubble Bath - Jefferson x ReaderMore Like This
(Y/N) arrived back at the grand house with a stiff neck. After a day in the office, and a restless night, all she wanted to do was relax in her pajamas with Jefferson by her side. The pain shot down to her back as she wanders into the kitchen, grocery bags in hand. Her heels clacked against the ground as she walked across the tiled floor.
Standing in the kitchen, with a glass of wine poured out for her, a vase of red roses and a box of her favorite chocolates, was Jefferson. He slid the glass over to her as she set the bags onto the counter.
"Oh, Jefferson, honey," She smiles. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know, but it is a very special day today," Jefferson replies. "And I wanted to do something for you."
A special day? She thinks to herself. Is is our anniversary?
"Special day?" She asks.
Jefferson nods. "Yeah..it's valentine's day."
(Y/N)'s smile drops. "Shit. Is it? Oh my god. Oh my god. I completely forgot," She covers her face with her hands. "I completely forgot. I am so sorr
Hearing Aids - Clint x ReaderMore Like This
Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye, is one of the most killed assassin's in the world. Now, that is his title to the majority of the world and S.H.I.E.L.D., but, to his friends and more importantly his girlfriend, he was the idiot that managed to lose everything and drink coffee straight out of the maker.
How in the world does the man with the greatest eyesight manage to lose anything? First it was his phone then it was his keys and now it was his hearing aid of all things.
Due to the lack of his hearing, Clint was now unable to hear anyone. He couldn't speak to anyone because he was unsure of their reply. He could attempt to read their lips but he was never entirely sure if he was reading their words correctly - nor had he needed to do so for many years after receiving his hearing aids.
What did not help was the fact that hardly any of the people that he worked with did not know sign language. Natasha and (Y/N) were currently on a mission together, leaving him alone with no one aroun
What Color Are Pianos?More Like This
black and white,
She told me without hesitation,
Her face dead straight
No trace of humor in her tone.
How wrong she was
Pianos are transparent,
A plain canvas eagerly awaiting the first dip of the brush,
That first, ringing note that
Streams out, expanding into this
Cacophony of color
Ranging from the coolest hints of intermezzo blues,
The bright allegro yellows
Red, bold fortes,
Silences as golden as the notes themselves.
How wrong you are,
I wanted to tell her.
No, Pianos are not just Black and White.
InsignificanceCurious little pocket of lacking,More Like This
Hateful in what it can't be,
Left whimpering and cracking,
Give it a cursed name - "Andy"?
Consigned to a fall eventual,
As said in legends long past told,
Waste of life and potential,
Tower of cards which must fold.
Void in place of the heart,
Tearing anger that doesn't fade,
Splintering bone and muscle apart,
Incarnate insignificance made.
Rule of dishonored faith,
Veins run with cowardly blood,
Transient and selfish wraith,
Best consigned to laugh-less mud.
Sun Sets ForeverPerhaps it was the glow of sunset, that sort of orange and honey warmth. Or perhaps it was the breeze, tingly cool in contrast of that star, scented of the sea and fantasy. Or, yet still, it was the place, perched on the low marble wall, sandy white, overlooking the ocean. They say that it goes until the end of the world, though none that say so have ever been there...More Like This
Either way, it was what it was, and what happened, happened. A god sat with me. Pity it wasn't a goddess, I hear they're beautiful, but I suppose a god did suit me well enough at the time.
Unaware of his presence for quite a while, it was a surprise to see him there, legs dangling off the edge of the wall, smiling into the sun. Younger than you'd expect a god to look, and only mildly handsome, I wasn't quite sure what to think. He smiled amiably at me, and I felt reassured, aside from his blazing gold eyes. Those were a bit concerning for one who's not a god.
"Weather's been nice," he mentioned conversationally, "I guess
Lucifer's Rosary...Lucifer's Rosary...More Like This
Roszhelia loved the blackened rose
despite its veil of thorns....
No one else but her knows
the burden of such scorns
yet with such at wake
she knew his kindred soul
and how for her sake...
he would give his whole
Cherished her friend
even as the butterflies fade...
until the very end
where promises were laid
to be silently broken
their meaningful token
She looked out window as if in despair
she brushed through the fringes
of her pallid gold hair....
she sighed in silence
she strayed from guidance...
she closed her eyes
to feel the night..
she saw through their lies...
its devious light
she felt something slide down her face....
its warmth darkened the paled frill lace
she smiled in its pitiful wake....
SHATTER MEI live in aMore Like This
dancing to a beat
I don’t even see;
I cling to the
our midnight rendezvouses
and butterfly kisses,
I want to be alive
strings that grace
as well be my
I feel your
your words soak
through the fog
I want you to
break me down
nothing more than
piano keys and
I’ll be born
again in the light
of your eyes,
How dare you.How dare you.More Like This
How dare you cry over me; like some kind of maiden.
How dare you not tell me about your magic sooner.
It's your fault.
It's always your fault.
Your fault for being an idiot.
For being like how you always are.
For always staying by my side.
For being loyal.
All your fault.
No man should give that much.
Now here I am.
Dying in your arms.
All because of you.
And I'm talking to you.
Talking when it hurts.
It hurts because it's you.
I don't want you to see me dying.
I want to see you smiling.
And it's all your fault that I'm hurting.
Because you made me feel alive again.
Made me feel human.
I should hate you.
But I can't.
I could never.
So maybe it's not all bad.
At least you'll be the last thing I'll see.
The last of you kind.
In every way now.
Now I'm dying and you'll be alone.
You shouldn't be alone.
Yet you've always been alone.
I can tell this isn't the first time.
You've lost so many others.