as feet pound
through my back.
of the other:
the only thing
from my skin.
Don't look back.
e m p t y.
Am I still moving?
in the s
Life as a punishmentI'm condemned to life
Good people die young
And I'm not good enough.
Killing me is putting an end to my misery
I don't deserve to be set free of all the pain,
despair, anger and hate I have towards myself
Life is my punishment
written in august, 15 2010
Two Sides Of MeWho is Kari?
Kari is the one who played with Barbie's
Was forced into dresses and skirts
Who constantly fidgeted in them
Who cries herself to sleep when things get to hard to handle
Who had to adjust to being treated like a girly-girl
Who was tortured at school everyday for no reason
Who was the wallflower that quietly took abuse
Who was called a lesbian by so many people who didn't even know her
Who chose to live this way
Who is Kadin?
Kadin is the one who plays video games
Who tried playing soccer and failed
Who is in love with horror movies
Who gets angry easily
Who chooses the baggy shirts to wear
Who helped Kari find comfort in being herself
Who isn't afraid to burp a bit louder and tell people what he thinks of them
Was comfortable when he got the chance to wear pants to school
Who helps inspire all of my works
Who are Kari and Kadin?
They are me
Two sides of me
They love Steven, friends, family, writing, vintage, poetry and everything else that makes me who I am
They've helped m
Noughts and CrossesNoughts and crosses
Such an innocent game
Or not so
When the lines drip with blood
The noughts well up to a circle
And the crosses streak
Down the skin
Such an innocent game
Played with razorblades
And the red blood
That flows in your veins
PsychiatristSo you think you know me?
You sit across from me with a smile
And a mental book of Psychology
Turns pages in your mind.
So you think you know me?
You can't SEE me.
You are reading the wrong book
And the pages are
You are reading a book while I'm playing a game.
You don't know the rules
I break them all anyway
I can dance around you in ever-changing patterns and never tire
This is all just so much
Because I'm making a mockery of you
Of the people that sent me
Of everyone that thinks I need
If you cannot see that you are analysing a character then
Who really needs help here?
'So tell me, why did you cut yourself?'
It was FUN
Blood tastes GOOD
And people's reactions made me howl with laughter
'I was hurting I was hurting so bad, and I didn't know what to do.'
I know exactly what to say
I know exactly how to behave
I can see what you're writing:
'Grieving but mentally stable.'
Sanity: don't you
Wayne. 1994-2010Wednesday March 24th, 2010
When I looked up from my food at the lunch table that day, I saw Mom coming through the doors. The first thought in my mind was, what have I done now?
She approached me, an uneasy smile on her face. She beckoned me closer. "Can I talk to you, over there?" she asked. I followed.
Once away from my friends, her smile dropped. "Ramona Pearson just called me. Wayne Torrie was killed in a car crash last night."
Everything suddenly held still. The world stopped spinning, the noise in the lunchroom didn't register in my ears, and I couldn't breathe. Wayne. Goofy, smiling, lovable Wayne, gone? It wouldn't click.
Then came the tears, and they started to pour down my face. My breathing shortened. Mom asked, "Do you want to stay or go home?"
"Home." That was my only answer. I walked back to the table, still crying, my breathing still rapid. Robotically, I put on my jacket, picking up my things.
Alex, my boyfriend, looked worried. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"No," I answere
Criss-CrossSo many scars
All criss-crossing over each other
How many now?
One hundred and something?
I don't know
I never counted
But what about the scars that have faded?
What about the cuts inflicted on top of old ones?
What about the wounds I opened up again, and again?
Getting Over It"Get over it"
You say it as though its a choice.
Like I choose to sing the blues everyday.
You speak as though I'm in control.
Why choose to feel insane?
You think it's all so easy?
Then why feel this way in the first place?
It's not as simple as just willing it all away.
The feelings embed themselves in your brain.
Those feelings turn into thoughts,
You never want to say.
The thoughts turn to actions,
To chase the feelings away.
Its a never ending cycle
Thats not so easy to break.
About the death......that dare not speak its name
People can (and will) treat you in two ways:
1 - They (mostly your family) will worry about you all the time, not leaving you alone for a second, treating like you're made of glass that can break into a million pieces at any second for numberous of reasons (Let's not say anything bad or sad to her because she may try it again) and they ask you all the time if you're happy and if everything it's ok; when they see you're serious, quiet, contemplative and alone they secretly freak out wondering if you're considering doing it again...
2 - Other people stay away from you as far as they can. They avoid you because they fear you; think you're dangerous somehow (?); or they think whatever you have that led you to it may be contagious...
written in september 25, 2010
I want Your Suffering!
I want your Suffering!
I want to hold you to the sun
I want to be your faithful one
I want to show you all the beauty
you dont even know you hold
Im hurting you for your own good
I'd die for you - you know i would
I'd give up all my wealth to buy
you back the soul you never sold!
I want to Mix are blood
and put it in the ground
So you can never leave
I want to win Your trust,
Your faith, your Heart
You'll never be deceived!
I want your suffering!
I want your Suffering!
I want to heal you pretty sweet
I'll throws rose Petals at your feet.
I'll spend eternity
comparing all my poetry to yours!
I want to see love through your eyes
You'll never have to compromise
I'd give up all my fame
To fight your demons and your bloody wars!
I want to mix are blood
and put it in the ground
so you can never leave
I want to win your trust
Ur faith ur heart
You'll never be deceived
BattlesIt frustrates me that the wounded soldiers coming back from the
wars in the Middle East are welcomed home with warm smiles,
and are congradulated on their courage and bravery.
Anyone who has ever known them is proud
and they all support them through their battle.
They are a hero!They are a role model!
Yet... when people see the battle scars i carved into my arms,
the ones that have kept me alive to this present day,
the ones that show i am fighting, that show i am strong..
All they do is turn their heads away in shame and disappointment, or worse,
jest, taunt and punish, until they push me into yet another battle...
a battle that is worse than you could ever know.
A battle with myself, and my mind.
Just because people have self inflicted scars engraved on their
bodies, does not mean we can judge them any more than the people
fighting different kind of battles, different kinds of wars.
We are all the same as each other.Fighting to keep the peace,
even if it means making sacr