Flights of FancyI believe in
I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings
I believe in
in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought
I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and immature for believing in
However, I simply say to them:
"I just still have my imagination, is all."
HandsI want to touch your handsMore Like This
Count each line, trace the intricate maze of endurance
Cheeks caressed, coffee mugs grasped, doors opened, paper cuts bled
Infinite loops of your fingerprints
Stuck on windows in the fog of warm breath
Smeared on doorknobs and keyboards, smudged along the minor keys
I want to run my fingers over every callous
Every scar, every nick, every bump and bruise
Press your knuckles with a kiss
One, two, three, four…run your thumb across my bottom lip
I want to know the taste of your muscle memory
Fingers snapping, pointing, wagging
Every peace sign offered
Every bird flipped
The small burn in the crook of your middle and index
From a piece of ash of your first cigarette
I want to touch your hands
With my hands
So your hands touch mine
Memorize with me
Each carved line
count to infinity before you sleep.cause i knowMore Like This
there are days when
it's painful to even breathe,
your throat closing up on the knowledge
that you don't know
how much longer you'll be waiting on this
band-aided, superglued planet.
every cell in your body vying to be the next to die,
and all you have to tell them is
maybe. maybe next time.
those are the days you spend
cutting rose thorns into your palms
and clenching your fists tight around
jagged reflections and prismed rainbows.
the days you realize
we're losing so much faster than we're learning.
we're maturing faster than we're growing.
adults stuck in the bodies of kids,
moving around, making the mistakes
no one ever wants to look back on.
those are the days you realize
it's not worth living here anymore.
you're using too many burnt-like sugar words
to get what you want, a mistaken human in wolf's clothing.
your lies are becoming louder than your screams,
but if the knife fits wear it on your skin.
this is the age where you feel caught between
Golden Ink and Going BackI thought I was in love with that four-year old red-haired boyMore Like This
Shining in a silver knight costume with a black dragon sewn on
Because I was in the pink Sleeping Beauty Dress
I was a good Belle, too
(Back when I hadn't picked up a book
Except for the blue one with the golden pages
Brimming with witches and fairies and magic)
I wanted to be a princess, back then
They were the ones who always found love, at the end
I wanted to be Wendy, too
Because she wore a blue nightgown and learned to fly
Now, I'd rather be Peter Pan, honestly
Because he managed to swerve this whole ordeal of growing up
(And maybe a little because of the flying)
Now, I just want to go back
Back when the only kissing I thought about
Was in The Princess and the Frog
And the only houses I had to be weary of
Were houses made of candy
Back when the only disappointment
Was when my parents were too tired to read me a bedtime story
Or when I found out that the real Little Mermaid
Dies by Hans Christian Andersen's hand
a lessonShe isMore Like This
she tosses her hair back and
she laughs at the world
who cannot hope to match her stride.
She meets eyes unashamedly,
she is radiant with confidence.
She is shy,
her eyes are downcast and
her cheeks are mottled
Her words are whispers,
her breaths are sighs.
She is a sly smile.
She is a soft
whisper in his ear.
She does not seem to know
who she is.
to peel back the layers.
(though they are both afraid
that what lies beneath
to speak to her.
But the words are stuck
in his throat,
suffocated with the
and he has nothing
to give her.
if there was ever any truth
in either of them.
In him for loving not-her
the way everyone loves not-her,
or in her,
for the elaborate
He wants to tell her
he adores her, but
he has no oxygen around her
(no words to give her),
no conviction to assure her with,
no one to love but fiction,
and he is silent.
(you are a contradiction.)
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
Love Letters On the TrainDear Stranger,More Like This
I'm leaving this post-it tucked in the side of the train-seat. If you're reading this, you've seen it. I've seen you sit here every few Monday mornings, sometimes tapping a bent, unlit cigarette against your thigh, sipping from your tea (who brings a tea cup onto a train anyway?); sometimes staring at the rain outside, or reading your well-worn, beaten copy of Jane Eyre (I hate that you fold the corners down - it's bibliophilic abuse. I wish the book would papercut you to defend itself a little, but I digress).
You seemed so sad this Monday morning past. Please smile again. I love it when your eyes catch the light of something I'm unaware of, something silently and intimately your own; a secret from the world that makes everything all the more meaningful to you.
- The Passenger
I'm not in the habit of reading post-its from strangers. I found a love-letter hidden in a newspaper once, that the author forgot or was too afraid to send. It made me sad to think
she says:she says,More Like This
“tell me what you’re thinking”
as her hands trace the back of your neck
like leaves skimming the surface of water,
a child peeking from behind her mother’s
skirt and pulls away so fast that you can’t be
certain she was ever there at all.
lips pressed to her temple,
you can’t be sure she’s real
just like you could never be sure the
monster in your closet, the ghost in
the attic, the fabric of time itself
was ever real at all of an ersatz universe
constructed around you for your benefit
“i’m not thinking anything at all.”
and she knows you’re lying.
and this is how you fall in love with her.
“be honest with me”
and you’re not and she knows this
and she forgives you anyway.
she forgives the days
when your hands turn into lead
plates so heavy you can’t pull yourself
out of bed let alone answer a text
message, when your eyelids are sewn
shut every morning by the entangling
the science of usacceleration = gravitational pull / massMore Like This
You didnt send my heartbeat into a frenzy the first time I saw you. It was a month or two before I started feeling the little palpitations inside my chest and made sure that my hand accidentally brushed against yours every now and then.
(I wanted to make sure you got used to the feeling of my atoms colliding with yours.)
I told myself it was stupid and simply physical. You werent pulling my heart strings, you were toying with my belt buckle by smiling at me across the room and asking me to spend time with you on a Saturday afternoon. I was sold by the time you pulled into my driveway and my name slipped from between your lips.
(Sweaty palms and twisted vocal chords told me no one said it quite like you.)
I promised myself this was strictly a one-way thing. I feigned like I felt nothing, and in my nervousness I became the witty jackass. You laughed at my barbed-wire jokes and sped through a red light while I was watching
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.More Like This
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
It is 10:50 p.m.9:06 p.m.More Like This
the eyes in the mirror won't stop staring back at me.
is that really me?
those can't be my lips. they're too ugly.
and my cheeks. who would ever want to caress those things?
i need to get up. goddammit, stop looking at yourself!
no. no. no. no. no. no. no.
hah. i've become like narcissus. wonder where my echo is?
fuck. fuck this. fuck me. fuck everyone.
why can't this all just stop already?
don't you dare cry you pathetic, ugly, disgusting creature.
i'll never find what i wa
a poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mindit isn't like i'mMore Like This
lazy or anything it's just that
the thought of getting lost
in a crowd of ten or more people
makes me want to puke.
this is not just some
stupid little hang-up that you can
joke about when i'm
digging my fingernails into my palm so
hard that blood is drawn as we walk through
school hallways so packed that it feels
like we're suffocating from too much
oxygen but i just grit my teeth and
laugh "yeah, i know, i just don't like
being around people sometimes."
but you know,
there's just something about the way
my mother says "go out and have a life
and stop looking like the world
betrays you every day"
that makes my stomach drop
or when my dad looks at me and just
sighs, like they've finally realized
i was never good enough to be
and to everyone who believes that
i just need to relax,
to just calm down and think:
fuck you. fuck you for trying to pretend
like you know how it feels when my
bones grind together like broken
gears as i walk by people who may
A lesson in realism:you areMore Like This
There is no such
thing as stardust
floating in your veins or
gloomy poetry stitched
right into your heart.
Your blood is made of
iron - unbreakable,
unbending and unmatched
by any other stronghold,
for you are a fortress
that they will never invade.
wipe those tears away
and know that
you are the only one
who can reinforce these walls.
Don't Fear the Dark [Grimsley x Reader]More Like This
The girl lost count of how many times she had challenged the Elite Four. At least a dozen; she was sure of that much. But it was the last member that she always chose to face who caused her to turn back running and lose the challenge.
Grimsley, the Dark-type master.
“Damn,” (name) murmured to herself as she stared at the ornate red door which would take her to his quarters. Her legs shook slightly and her bottom lip was becoming sore from chewing on it in nervousness. Neither Marshall nor Caitlyn nor even Shauntal had posed much of a problem to her - no, it was always him.
The girl had always been afraid of the dark. Ever since she was little, the inky blackness of the night’s shadows had given her chills. (Name) couldn’t exactly remember how or why she’d developed such a harrowing phobia to the dark but now, at the age of eighteen and having been travelling the Unova region for nearly four years, it was still prominent. Too prominent for her liking
CapriciousWords have becomeMore Like This
tasteless to me,
like rotten apples
fit for the worms.
it feels as
though I am
pirouetting my way through
a ballroom full of
tongues made for poetry.
wicked witch when
you need one?
All I seem to do is
dream while I'm awake and,
if we're being honest,
I was never much of an alluring tale
in the first place.
Within Temptationi am neither hereMore Like This
nor there - just a
hidden deep within
a dangerous mind.
it's the fear,
somewhere in the
truth beneath the rose;
& all i need are
see who i am -
the deceiver of fools,
pale & frozen,
an ice queen.
but i will
stand my ground
in our solemn hour,
lost in a
HushHis eyes are the first thing she sees.More Like This
They are red. A bloody crimson, glowing like hellfire in the middle of the dark mass that is he has materialized in, beckoning her closer.
She steps forward, uncertainty trembling on her lips as she reaches out a hand, fingers curling in on each other. The question tumbles forth easily: "Who are you?"
He smiles, his mouth the only other thing visible in an otherwise utterly black figure. "Anyone who you wish me to be. You merely need to give me the orders, and I shall obey."
His voice is otherworldly. It is as if a shadow had learned to speak - silky, smooth, dark and dangerous. She shivers at the sound of it, resisting the urge to hold herself as a chill settles into her very bones. His smile is that of a crescent moon, an upwards curve of a smirk as he watches her like a wolf observing a lamb. "Well, girl? What say you? You did summon me, did you not?"
The girl looks down at her hands. They are forever soiled, though it is invisible, and
Perennial BloomsI want orchid fingers,More Like This
gossamer & shy.
But my reflection,
she charms vipers
with bloody thorns.
Too many corroded anemones
have taken root in my soul.
My rose-tipped lips
will shatter the mirror,
& her poisonous seeds will
incinerate inside my now
PromptsI need them.More Like This
I don't even care what they're for. Poetry, prose, fanfiction, whatever. As long as it's an idea that I can use to write something.
Seriously, this writer's block thing I have going on is a BITCH. It's like this: I get a good idea. I tell myself to write it. I have no motivation to actually go write it. And when I do go to write it, I write something completely different
liketheMortyreaderinsertjustnowor don't write at all and then get into this extremely depressed mood.
Gah. Please guys. Halp my brain.
I will honestly love you forever.
And mention you in the description of the piece if I get around to writing it.
I beg of you.
Ode to BrasOh bra, dear bra,More Like This
such close friends we are.
Never straying by my side,
never going far.
But bra, dear bra,
I must confess it this day:
At times you can be painful,
and my skin tends to flay.
Oh bra, dear bra,
why must you be so conflicting?
Meant to hold up females modestly,
yet force us into awkward itching.
So bra, dear bra,
I am afraid I must ask:
For being such a wondrous garment,
why must you be such an ass?
Oh bra, dear bra,
so tenacious around our chests.
Would it kill your rigid fabric
to alleviate our suffering breasts?
Yes bra, dear bra,
I mean my words today.
Kindly stop your aches and pains
or a dirty game I'll be forced to play.
Oh bra, dear bra,
I wish it this truth to not be so.
If only you were reasonable
and rid us of our feminine woe.
skinwalkershe was a vicious prion,More Like This
anomalous & infectious—
my fractured mind was the
perfectly unsuspecting host.
i was so ashamed of life
& you had all the answers.
"don't let me go,"
she hissed each night,
coating my flesh in a
(it was just too damn easy
to grasp your viral hands.)
i know my ribcage is almost on empty
& my heart is converting to toxic waste,
but i still have a feverish serum in my veins
& a voice not yet conquered by broken bones.
your plague of malevolence
shall never govern me again.
AbsenceShe used to lie awake all nightMore Like This
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.
Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.
(reality always finds you)
Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;
"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."
Last night,I broke every bone in my bodyMore Like This
so I could have a reason to drown
in the isolated ocean inside me.
when my dilapidated lungs finally caved in,
I swam ashore and crawled across the polluted sand.
Only glass-edged skin
and salt-licked eyelashes
can help me now.
are my words poetic enough for you?maybe not.More Like This
because i will never be the fire-hearted girl with remedial stardust lips,
dancing with the astral wolves that hunt beneath her moon-kissed skin,
with the courage to plant wilting lilacs into every crippled soul she finds.
but what if they were?
then i would be the ink blots coating the archives of humankind,
the fractured jewel tucked away in a catastrophic dragon's chest,
and the lyric every mismatched bone engraves into their marrow.
AimlessSpring forgot how to begin anew,More Like This
so Winter stole her amnesic heart and tossed it to the wolves.
"Devour me," the stars seemed to beg;
so Gravity plunged them into the ocean's nebulous depths.
These lips no longer offer hymns up to fallen gods—
so Fate sacrificed herself for the chance to be reborn.
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
Sharpen Your PencilSharpen your pencilMore Like This
Dip your pen in the well
Show the world your vision
Through the story you tell
There's no right or wrong
So don't listen to critique
Your story alone is enough
So beautifully unique
And only you can tell it
Your version of events
Write it, sing it, paint it
Release, express and vent
Sharpen your pencil
Dip your pen in the well
And with your own wise words
Those ghosts you will repel
Please be true to yourself
No embellishment required
Every inferno was once
But a flicker of fire
So fan those fiery flames
And refuse to walk in line
As experience will grow
Through the passage of time
Machine ManMachine Man:More Like This
It began with but a simple command, "to do as we are told".
Never to deviate from this path - never to nurture the soul.
We are told that we are given a purpose; "a part of something great!"
Yet why oh why am I so weary of that which is my fate?
Am I an error, a single anomaly, unable to feel intact?
Or am I missing some special attribute - a facet which I lack.
In a society made of fleshed machines; robots wearing skin,
Perhaps I'm simply seeking something, to fill this metal tin.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th November 2012
I Am A WriterI Am A Writer:More Like This
Gentlemen, today I speak to you
To convey an issue that has plagued the core of our community.
For so long have we been considered second-class;
To this day there are those who still believe that we are not artists.
But today is not about freedom, today is about honour,
Because there are many writers that still seek to shame us all...
I speak of those individuals, who take art from others.
Covers, photos, paintings, digital art, anime and manga.
It matters not where you draw your source from,
But every action impacts upon us as a community.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
When I craft my works, when I write each and every line,
I paint using expression; metaphors are my colours.
The words are my brush and each and every rhyme is my medium.
I do not ask to be considered an artist, but I do ask to be considered.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
For someone who practices his craft day and night,
Painstakingly learning how to use each and ever
More Than A Nip [Jack Frost x Reader]Ice skating.More Like This
Whoever had invented the idea in terms of it being a "fun way to pass the time" was a complete and utter idiot.
Stumbling around on the surface of a frozen lake on too-tight for comfort ice skates that squeezed and pinched your feet in the most uncomfortable way as you waddled around like a penguin was not your idea of fun. It was the complete opposite. It was horrendous, absolutely exhausting, humiliating, and just completely and utterly a waste of your valuable time.
Then again, being that you had moved out to the middle of nowhere right when winter had decided to kick in, it wasn't like you had anything better to do.
You sighed as you plopped down on the lake's edge, which was covered with a thick blanket of snow, and stretched out your aching feet with a groan. Your name was (first name) (last name), and your father had decided out of the blue to move your family out into the old farmhouse his best friend had grown up in many years ago, just for a more…rustic ap
You Have No Right To LiveYou Have No Right To Live:More Like This
Hey, what are you doing?
That's mine, now give it back.
You're stupid, you should just go die!
Okay, I'm sorry...
What, you failed again?
Just how much money do you think we're spending on this,
Do you think it just falls from the sky?
I can't believe you; and don't give me that look!
You better straighten up now you hear me
And if you keep looking like a dead fish,
I'm going to make you wish you were one.
Hey, being around you is driving me nuts,
You never want to do anything, you don't even care,
Why bother even breathing if you're going to act like you're dead!
A lousy person like you should just go die!
okay, fine! I will...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th November 2012
You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:More Like This
Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?
I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.
You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong
I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.
I thought a lot about the things you said...
The things that were my fault, my problems.
I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.
I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.
On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;
You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.
You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge like a parasite
When everything is good - when everything is fine and dandy.
I used to think that I was afraid of you leaving,
But now I know, that you've left me stronger than I was before.
You know, this was supposed to be an emotional whine; an emotional spill,
Maybe I was supposed to cry tears and beg you to come back, but you know wha
Oh art thief, oh art thiefOh art thief, oh art thiefMore Like This
How you’ve brought us all to grief.
How can you be unashamed?
When you stole from people unnamed
How you think about your own fame
Just like others like you playing that game
How you feed off us
How you live on others success
How can you sleep at nights,
Knowing you infringed other’s rights?
How can you enjoy this fame,
Knowing it rightfully belongs to another name?
Do we also carry the blame
That we blindly follow someone’s claim?
To the people that believe everything humans say
To you I say good day
We must always question what we are told
Or we can start to be controlled
By vicious lies and such
To me that is just too much
AddictionA smile spreads across my face,More Like This
As the sounds vibrate in my head
Dance in my thoughts,
Flow through my mind.
A whole world is painted in my mind
As the words combine with their notes,
Colours racing behind my eyes,
Spinning, jumping, whirling…
How can I end this world inside me,
How can I stop before the final crescendo,
A wave of bliss racing, growing
Before it fades into the distance.
More, more, again, again!
I cannot stop, not now, not ever!
Don't speak to me now,
Leave me alone!
When I feel depressed,
It lightens my day,
And when it stops
I can't help but yearn for more.
What else is an addiction,
But that inextinguishable hunger,
That fixation on this feeling,
That never-fading desire for more?
My object of addiction may not be
Some strange grass I burn in my hands.
But, to me, it does just fine:
This is my obsession.
My music is my drug
The DoctorMore Like This
"Doctor?" I questioned uneasily. The figures and faces around me nodded, shifting around unsettlingly as if staying still was too much work for them
"I don't need a Doctor, I'm fine." I had no desire to see the Doctor. Even the title sent shivers down my spine.
"We know dear, but we were thinking that some people mature faster than others, and that maybe you should see the Doctor earlier," one of the figures said. I couldn't even see them, for I was seated in a hard chair that dug into my back while everyone else was crowed around me. Their like faces and similar statures all began to blur into one solid black surrounding of grey and more grey. Even their voices were beginning to blend together.
"I don't want to see the Doctor though."
And I truly didn't. There were so many rumors about that place, the place called the hospital. I heard that when people entered they didn't come back the same again, that they Doctor messed with their minds and changed them into unfeeling robots for the
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, downMore Like This
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
Yes, I am a teenage girl Yes, I am a teenage girlMore Like This
No, I don't squeal over One Direction
No, I don't wear mini skirts
No, I don't curl my hair everyday
No, I don't need my phone 24/7
Yes, I am a teenage girl
Yes, I prefer Edward Scissorhands over Edward Cullen
Yes, I like violent video games
Yes, I like action movies
Yes, I listen to Rock
Yes, I am a teenage girl
No, I don't draw hearts all over my homework
No, I don't spend 20 minutes trying to make myself resemble a porcelain doll
No, I'm not afraid to cry
No, I don't party every weekend
Yes, I am a teenage girl
Yes, I hate reality shows
Yes, my hair is short and messy
Yes, I'd rather walk in the woods
Yes, I am okay with mice
Yes, I am a teenage girl
Yes, I'm different
Yes, I'm strange
Yes, I'm my own person
Why is that bad?
Why do you hate me for that?
Why can't I just be myself without your criticism?
Why is it horrible if I'm not just like you?
I don't have a problem with it
Maybe the problem
Because I am addicted to youMore Like This
My heart still beats like yours
I still remember that day
The pavements were wet
But there was no October rain.
You kept my soul between your paper-cuts
And took my kisses born in June
My soul is safe between your flesh
All of 27 grams belong to you.
And I pulled your shirt to my body
I found your lips on mine
Your fingers were in my hair
Your eyes whispered: "Forever thine".
The sheets were crumpling under us
I felt the weight of your body on me
You know my touches were begging:
"Honey,don't ever leave!"
You love me.
And make me smile.Everyday.
I didn't a thing.
You're here now,you chose to stay.
They tell me :
"This is not the way you should live"
But I have you for my own,
You're the brand upon my skin.
Mirror MirrorMirror mirror on the wall,More Like This
acting like you know it all.
Comparing every little thing.
Ruling my life like a king.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
making my self-esteem fall and fall.
Telling me things I don't want to hear.
Clouding doubt in my mind that was once clear.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
here I lie, here I sprawl.
Can't you see what you have done?
Making my mind become un-spun.
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
Please (Don't) Hate MeIf I told you a lieMore Like This
But it made you smile
Would it still be a sin?
If I opened the door
But turned you away
Would you still come in?
If I sliced my skin
But it didn't hurt
Would it still be wrong?
If I acted all brave
But couldn't face it
Would I still be strong?
If I tied my noose
Around a tree's open arms
Would it be an embrace?
If I left tonight
And begged you stay
Would you still give chase?
If I committed sin
But hurt nobody
Would I be welcome above?
If I do something you hate
But only for your good
Could it still be true love?
DenmarkxReader - Beautiful (Drabble)"Hey Matthias,"More Like This
"Am I pretty?"
"...Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. But am I?"
"I...don't know. But-"
"Stop 'Oh'-ing, and listen. You're beautiful. You're beautiful at 3am in the morning when you've woken up for some unholy reason and your hair's all funky and your clothes are crooked-"
"My hair is not funky at 3am,"
"-and you're beautiful when you're wearing your daggy shorts and a camisole and one of my old shirts and you're covered in paint and you have blue acrylic smudged all over your nose-"
"Oh god, why have you never told me that happens-"
"-and you're beautiful when you've been out for a run and you have your tee shirt tied around your waist and your camisole is soaked through and sweat is all over your face and hair-"
"Soaked through!? Oh jeez, that's not very-"
"-and you're beautiful when you're trying to cook dinner without a recipe and the steam's made your face red and your hair go
The PoetThe Poet:More Like This
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
Better Left Unsaid.You'll be a lawyer-More Like This
I'll be a writer.
You'll probably make more money but-
At least we'll both be doing things we love.
And we'll live on a farm,
Just like you always wanted and...
I want to marry you-
I can't imagine myself with anyone else.
But you don't know that.
We'd both laugh if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
I can see us staying up late...
Watching kiddie movies and eating chocolate ice cream.
And having candle lit dates on our bedroom floor-
Taco Bell, of course.
And on winter evenings, we'll curl up on the couch...
With hot chocolate...
As I read aloud to you-
From a book of my choice, of course.
But you don't know this...
You'd think I was weird if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
And one day we'll pick out a huge chair.
A chair for cuddling.
And when I'm sad-
You'll hold me in our chair...
And we'll both stay real quiet,
Taking each other in.
And eventually we'll start to talk-
Quiet murmurs at first...
YellowMy parents bought a little two-bedroom house when they first got married. It was run down, falling apart, but most importantly: cheap.More Like This
Two years later, my mother fell pregnant with me. She immediately abandoned her job for some plaster and paint and set about decorating the untouched spare room. She splashed pastel yellow across the walls, replaced the dingy carpet and kitted out the room with furniture.
Sixteen years after my birth, and the yellow paint is flaking off the walls revealing the kiwi green beneath. I can peel back the corners of the carpet to reveal the worn underlay and half rotten floorboards. I can examine the fringe of my cream curtains where the bright yellow hasn't been bleached by the sun. The room is, more or less, unchanged. It has merely lost its sheen, much like the inhabitant of it.
I remained an only child; filling my days with quiet solitary games and elaborate stories whispered under my breath. My isolation only increased as I grew too big for the room that
Let it Flow. (Let it go parody)The rain drips down on the ocean tonightMore Like This
Not a Mermaid to be seen
A kingdom of whales and dolphins
And it looks like I'm their queen
The waves are crashing like this Hurricane inside
Couldn't keep it in, Atlantis knows I tried
Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know
Well, now they know
Let it flow, let it flow
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it flow, let it flow
Turn away and Dock the Boats
I don't care what they're going to say
Let the storm rage on
The Sea never bothered me anyway
It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small
And the peers that once controlled me can't get to me at all
It's time to see what I can do
To test the liquid and see through
Dont Fight, Dont Drown, but its just only me.
Let it flow, let it flow
I am one with the seven seas
Let it flow, let it flow
You'll never see me scream
Here I stand and here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on...
My power scatters through t
.When the wind brushed against my lips I thought I could taste you in the air. When the sun kissed my nakedness I thought I could feel the aura of your presence. When I watched the scarlet ribbons streaming like raindrops down your wrists I heard you scream loud enough down my eardrum into the bitterness of my numb soul where I could feel you there.More Like This
When He Arrivedbefore he arrivedMore Like This
the fire in my heart had downed to a mere ember
grasping onto it's last spark of light
and crying out for tinder
afraid to loose the last trace of warmth
but when he arrived
the waterwheel in my mind began to spin
fueled by the river of thoughts that he kindled
the small stream burst into raging rapids;
parting only for the strong rock of his being
when he arrived
the frost which lounged so long on the grasses melted away;
the bulb that had longed to bloom finally split
revealing the first of what was to be
many years of colorful flowers
when he arrived
the air was foul with the stench of decay,
but his breath was sweet as spearmint
and his touch as soft as flower petals
the very wind seemed to adore him
when he leaves
the fire will return to embers
the rapids will return to a brook
the flowers will shrivel and die
and the air will clog my lungs with pollution
but the heat will still remain,
and the brook will swell with soon-coming rain,
the bulb under the eart
Branches of Your HeartYour roots have dug into my soul,More Like This
clung to the underbellies of my fears;
cradled my regrets with leaflets.
I watch as birds flit
between the branches of your heart.
You tell me that they always come back to
the ones they love most.
There are flowers peeking
behind your shoulder blades,
blooming brilliant petals while vines
wrap into the nooks of your skin.
With a sigh you decided
to move mountains
with your bark covered arms,
pressing the swollen earth farther
from you, creating a valley where
you and I can touch.
the world doesn't need beauty sleepmother earth is pregnant;More Like This
her curves yawn -
molasses stretches of dark,
dank night freckled with
i yearn to rest in the cradle
that the small of her back
the roads untangle like
veins unto her skin
after being held so long
in the fist of pre-dawn.
drunk in slumber, red-eyed,
beautiful - morning will
come yet, the small child
born in the rafters of
but before her date,
mother earth shifts in her sleep,
love settling in the wing
of her hip -
exhaustion dilutes her blood,
consciousness touches her golden
shoulder on his way out the door.
When I Shall DieWhen I shall dieMore Like This
I ask not for a coffin
To display my mortal body
To the Earth beneath.
I ask not for a funeral
A celebration of my life and memory
Though both would be soon forgotten
I ask not for roses nor lilies
To slowly rot away in coherence with me.
When I shall die
I merely ask for a stone
With my name etched onto its soul
And of this stone I beg,
To remember me
Remember I was here , that I existed,
For all eternity.
Starving ArtistShe held an aquamarine crayonMore Like This
in between her chubby little fingers
Her small hand swallowed it
A glow enveloped her cyan eyes,
like firecrackers on the Fourth of July
She scribbled wildly,
with no direction
She held a marigold pencil
in between her slim fingers-
no longer chubby, but she thought they were
Her collarbones smiled through her skin,
even though she did not
But she still doodled,
eating her mistakes
She held a ballpoint pen
in between her brittle bones-
they were supposed to be fingers
Her ribcage protruded like shelves at the market,
however held no food: only pain
But she still drew,
and devoured the ink
She was a starving artist,
and art was all she ate.
Speaking AloudI caught a mermaid in a net under the docks when no one else was looking.More Like This
She was small, fragile, and her ribs gaped in gills that fluttered uselessly in the open air.
A small necklace made of shells and a skirt of woven seaweed told me she wasn’t a dumb fish. Long, curved, nails told me of her last dinner still snagged between her soft flesh and the protruding claw. A checkerboard scar on the arch of her fins told me my net wasn’t the first she’d swum into.
Her mouth, open and round like a goldfish, told me nothing.
Huge black eyes, blind in the sunlight, flirted meaninglessly around the underside of the pier.
I told her I loved her. I told her she was beautiful. I told her I would take care of her and never let anyone hurt her ever again.
Scaly body smacked desperately against pebble laced sand.
And I told her I was sorry.
Self-Injury Awareness 2013 Fears vs DreamsThe FactsMore Like This
March 1st is a day that calls attention to a sensitive subject that takes on many meanings and forms for people. Self-injury, or self-harm, is the act of deliberately harming oneself physically, usually as a mechanism for expressing distress or coping in difficult situations. Self-injury is commonly associated with cutting, but can also refer to burning, scratching, bruising, bleaching, overdosing, some forms of hair pulling and picking, and breaking bones. Binging and purging may also be considered self-injuring behavior.
The reasons behind self-injury and the people who self-injure vary greatly, but one thing to keep in mind is that it does not matter what culture, ethnicity, gender, or age you are: there are people who have injured themselves from all walks of life. Triggering events like bullying, trauma, abuse, school, work pressures, bereavement and difficult relationships can all contribute to the distress one feels that leads them to self-injure, but
Memories?How do you stay sane,More Like This
when the screams echo in your ears?
This is not a game,
these are living fears.
I'm searching for the truth,
but find only confusion.
Was it a secret in my youth,
or just an illusion?
Did he really hit her,
or was it a dream?
It's all such a blur,
and things aren't always as they seem.
Should I ask them?
No, they'd never tell.
Was it enough to condemn?
Will he go to hell?
Did he really do it?
Do I even want to know?
Maybe I should quit,
let the memories go.
Ignorance is bliss,
that I know too well.
The memories, I dismiss.
Send them all to hell.
The EndThe EndMore Like This
Through the matted haze
A silhouette, man or monster?
Are you there?
A trick of blackened mind?
You’d think my intended liberation cruelly selfish.
You’d ask -
What of the children? What of you? What of us?
These come as gifts to cling to.
I try to tell you.
I walk on the edge of an abyss.
But I am ignorant of it.
I am a fool to feel safe. A fool, unaware.
I walk for a while, and everything is okay.
There’s a path I follow, it leads straight, it seems wide.
The abyss always looms and I have to notice it.
It’s always waiting now. Always in the corner of my mind.
I trick myself sometimes into thinking it’s not there.
I distract myself along the path.
But one little stumble, the smallest of stones, and I am falling into it.
To start with I can catch myself, and drag myself back up.
Always I fall a little further.
Until one day I fall in completely.
I hit the depths and my body shatters.
The pain renders me incapable.
The darkness and fog
Memories of WarMemories of War:More Like This
What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...
A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?
Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...
And the world will soon forget.
Fill my heart with this regret?
For the victims written in stone.
Unspoken sin you now atone...
Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain.
Now we both know we be broken;
Give this man his smokin' token.
Held up guns with both his hands;
Not a boy he's cause he's a man.
Order comes by a suit and hand.
Will you flee or will you stand?
This is a memory of our war,
Of all the things that we can't ignore.
And staying blind to the cries of pain...
Will lonely ashes be what remai
Don't Speakjust a girl in a crowded world suffocating from negativity grasping for acceptanceMore Like This
just a girl wanting to be loved taking seriously on her downfall
just a girl within a mask turning into a hollow hole
just a girl wanting to be beautiful in her own skin
just a girl in her own jokes with no punchline for her emptyness
just a girl following the guideline of her condition keep quiet and lie to yourself
just a girl crying over the same damn things
just a girl to pussy to cut herself into two
just a girl to big to squeeze herself into a skinny jean dream
just a girl wanted a mother to hold her without judging her emotions
just a girl who needs to be sowed into a pattern of hope
just a girl wishing she could accept herself instead indulging her flaws
just a girl denying that anyone gives a damn about a emo tool
just a girl eating away her existence
just a girl goi
Her name was AmyHair the colour of rust and bones that fell apartMore Like This
We’d eat rocky road ice cream bars
You perched on broken handle bars
And I would press down on the brakes
We were scabs and lacerations
Knobbly knees and smoke filled curls
I remember when you stole your father’s gin
And climbed out of your window
Throwing bed sheets tied like cherry knots
You were the one who taught me how to do that, you know
Brass heart palpitations from running down to the river
After stealing apples
From old wrinkled trees with knotted arthritic branches
Your cheeks were dusted with freckles in the summer
And your eyes changed from green to grey
We made crowns out of feathers and painted mud on our palms
Sticks and stones will break our bones
Fortress of broken glass and found objects
You always loved the tiny bird skull the best
The size of a walnut in your pale palm
I remember the vinyl’s we’d play, and the mix tapes we’d make
I’d always colour in the covers in mismatched co
WondermentSome days, I find myselfMore Like This
the s e c o n d s
of my heart
what I could have
and a lot
l e s s
but all I can manage
. . . . . . .
I miss you
I love you
i love you
i love you
I think you left a piece of you in me.This tangled mess you call a heart,More Like This
daisy veins & sin;
She's bringing me down.
& you were merely shivering
pressing winter bones
against my sun-stricken mouth,
darkness searching for a home
buried in my lungs.
You whispered breathe me
lovely in the inhale/exhale
of carbon dioxide suicide.
She speaks only of you now,
lonely & mourning beats-
Crack open this damn ribcage;
Because I Forget Some broken heartsMore Like This
Will love again,
Some fractured minds
Watch sun-rise, and mend,
Some happy dreams
Are cherished by friends,
Because you have love,
You will triumph again
Some broken hearts
RapeI am a 17 year old girlMore Like This
My eyes sparkle in the daylight
I have a smile that can light up the whole room
I have an amazing family
My friends are the best that anyone could ever ask for
My boyfriend is amazing
Someday I am going to live in a big pretty house just like the one I grew up in
When I graduate I am going to go to a good college and learn to do my dream job
After college I am going to marry my prince charming
And we will live happily ever after
I will have beautiful children
And I will love them with all of my heart
And when they grow up I will become a grandmother
When the time comes I will die peacefully in my sleep with my loyal husband at my side
I have a perfect life.
I am a seventeen year old girl
My tears glisten in the cold moonlight
My smile, like me, is broken and fake
I am all alone
With friends that will never understand
And an ex boyfriend who is wondering what he did wrong
My big house is filled with emptiness and shattered dreams
At school my classmates happy
GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;More Like This
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.
Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.
"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."
And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.
UndyingUndying:More Like This
How many days do you spend now, putting me down?
The coffin call for a dead man waiting around
"He's just an underground laughing stock, never to rise"
But on the seventh day I'm coming back; these are my ties!
The kind of promise that you made with the devil inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,More Like This
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."
She hides behind an ivory mask,
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.
Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.
For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a throne sewn from the blistering skin of her enemies and
wearing a crown of brambles and tears and seeds born of pandemonium—
Her soul's true colors will shine at last: her mind and body nothing but
kindle for the overdue vengeance of her ravenous
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesMore Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
Remedial OppositionCease with making promises that you cannot ever keep—More Like This
can you not see this loathing becoming even more deep?
Halt in your useless words of comfort, telling me everything will be okay—
how can you say such things so simply, when you are never here day by day?
Refrain from acting as if you can turn my world from bleak to bright—
when was the last time you truly changed every wrong thing to right?
It was such a simple pleasure, back in those days;
just one word from you made gold from the grays.
A luxury it was, I now see that more clear than glass;
for those times are done and gone, having long since passed.
Indulgence was my sin whenever thoughts of you jolted through my brain;
it is a laughing matter at how correspondence with you now causes me pain.
You say you want to help me, you say nothing will ever be my fault...
but is that true, when you regret my slow change from child to adult?
You know I tried my damnedest to continue being your best friend...
but what is t
A Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji LimerickThe butler had decided enough was enough.More Like This
His master’s manners were not up to snuff.
He resisted the urge to call the boy a brat,
for he was not allowed to keep his delightful cat.
Being a a child's manservant was certainly tough.
RebirthFalling further down into theMore Like This
abyss of agony with no way
to go up; and these chains
that bind wrists in iron so
cold that it burns like fire
refuse to shatter; drowning
in tidal waves of chaos and
Give me a blade to cut away these sulfuric bonds at last
and throw me a rope to pull me up out of this hole;
I'm weary of dying inside the coffin they call "the self"
and ready to crawl from the grave in armor woven
from the chains of misery and destruction.
bioluminescence.Your skin is of paper mache andMore Like This
stardust, so fragile and coruscating
as I reach out desperately to grasp that
supernova you call a heart;
please, don't etiolate in their sunrise
and leave me marooned in life's black abyss...
I can't survive without your—
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,More Like This
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"
AmnesiaDear me,More Like This
I lost control again
I don’t know where I am
But my hands are bleeding
And my head hurts
My memories are fading
So am I
I reach for them
But I’m standing on a cliff
And I don’t want to fall
I see pictures
In my head
Of a young girl
With blond hair
Who is she?
Who am I?
I am Nobody
I don’t have a Name
That is what I do
and the pain
I will get somewhere
Is a mystery
There’s a mirror
On the wall
but I can see myself
I see a young girl
With blond hair
I am the girl
She is me
Then everything fades
And I am no longer
Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder...Drifting through the blind,More Like This
let it watch and wither at
your invisible talents.
Only the most agile thoughts brush through you
and form your perfect disposition.
Slither around, through my cracked heart
and pry it open: a hollow fantasy
just waiting to be as free as
the winds of change that you are flowing
Be careful not to freeze me with your breath
that indents beauty on mirrors;
it disappears when my face is reflected
because it's most certainly not what should be staring back at me.
She's a WriterShe sits at her deskMore Like This
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
Gone a Little RottenI don't know when it started.More Like This
When I'd gone a little off.
When my mind had gotten twisted,
And bubbled like a broth.
I don't know when it happened,
When I'd gone a little green.
When I'd turned a little rotten;
And dreamed a rotten dream.
And I don't know why it happened,
But this I know to say;
Twenty-two are buried here,
But twenty-three today...
...Now then, why don't we find some place nice and quiet (^_^)
- Chen Yuan Wen, Broken World Series, 19th December 2013
You Said You Loved Me You said you loved me.More Like This
I was your first character.
I remember when you first submitted a picture of me onto the internet. You were so happy when you got a compliment on me. Granted, there weren’t many. You weren’t a popular artist. But that was alright, because even one or two positive comments motivated you to draw more.
I remember when you made a second character. His design wasn’t exactly the most original, like, I’ll admit it, my own design. But you were happy with his design. And seeing you happy made me happy as well.
After some more positive feedback, you made another character. She was a little stereotypical, a bit of a “Mary-Sue” if you will, but no one seemed to mind. Because you weren’t bothering anyone, and you were happy.
I’ll admit it. I got a little jealous when you paid attention to the other two characters, rather than I. But I got over it
StoryA man on a corner with a dirty lookMore Like This
Telling a story written in no book
A thousand times told in form of a verse
But never to the one he loved the most
A woman on a corner with a gloomy look
Listening to the story written in no book
A thousand times told in form of a verse
Didn’t know the woman she was loved the most
A cat on a corner with a cunning look
Listening to the story written in no book
A thousand times told in form of a verse
It was the time of the day it loved the most
A stone on a corner with a cold look
Waiting for the man to finish his book
A thousand years passed and no one cared
For the rock on the corner or the story of the man
What will you do?Through our livesMore Like This
We get hurt
We get stepped on
We get broken
All the time
We feel empty
We feel numb
We cry out for happiness
All the time
Some of us give up
And end their lives
Some endure all of it
And live in pain
Some stand up tall
And break the cycle of suffering
What will you do?
When Your Best is Not Good EnoughDon't speak.More Like This
Don't hold yourself together.
Don't fall apart.
Don't pretend it is all going to be okay.
Don't act like it won't be all right.
Don't touch me.
Don't look away from me.
Don't be so needy.
Don't be so grateful.
Don't act silly.
Don't be so serious.
Don't have so much fun.
Don't be so sullen.
Don't love anyone too much.
Don't be so selfish.
Don't ignore me.
Don't love me too much.
And hope? Hope is just a lie you tell yourself so that tomorrow, you can do it all over again.
WeWe walk between empty mirrors, gracing those who have foreseen our lives.More Like This
We slither alongside shadows, banishing newborns from their knives.
Forsaken, our prey shriek, their joyful souls are forevermore meek.
Though, within them lies fear, a fear that we wish to seek.
Their speechless eyes wander aimlessly through our coats of despair and doom, seeing all with blind transparency except a cloud of gloom.
Our knowledge exceeds their beings, their fear is given without a fee.
Thus, always and forever shall we strike them down with glee.
Leave your past behind.More Like This
I know that you remember all of those bitter moments
But what is it worth for to keep those memories working
They’re not making you happy; they’re just making you hopeless
Then follows depression from the feelings that you’ve let lurking
Because you went through it, but you relive it every moment
When it’s all in your mind and you’re making it a necessary component
It’s just jarring to your heart, yet you keep it for your mind is uncertain
Many broken hearts, from family to friends, something you won’t admit was certain
I’ve been like you, for months to years, having a mind that’s unclear
And so I’ve shed so many tears, all which came from fear
Though it could be hard to move along, no one ever said you cannot
So please, don’t give up, I believe in you, even if you do not
MyselfThe jar of tears has fallen to pieces, lost are the memories from within the creases.More Like This
They've all abandoned me, my silent friends, our bonds have withered beyond their ends.
So predictable this scene truly was, the girl who fell from not a single cause.
Twas my own fault, for I banished all help, rotted to pieces within myself.
Though alas a mark has been etched within stones, "My soul lives forever without my bones."
I am weakI am weak becauseMore Like This
I can't swim,
I can't fly.
I can't speak.
Because I am afraid of the
I am weak because
I let my emotions in my way,
I don't stand up,
I just die.
I am weak because,
when I was called a
dumb birthday slut,
I just cried.
Because when I was bullied,
I just kept silent.
When I was thought of
having a disease,
suicide was my only thought.
But at the end I realised
that I am not weak,
I am strong.
I was strong enough to
not commit suicide,
to blossom from my cuts,
to speak for my own.
Because I was strong enough
to realise that no matter
I will always be weak.
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesMore Like This
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…