DryCutting myself drybecause of you.
BrokenCan't fixwhat's never been whole.
The Death of Her......And so the heavy handof human nature crushedthe remnants of her sanity.Reality stilled theirregular beating of her will;the Darkness further shroudedher withered innocence. "She was drowning...But nobody saw her struggle..." She succumbed to her misery.The Darkness triumphed.
This Is Depression The darknessand Iare one.
Mama's LullabyMama,please don’t sing.Your beautifulhymns bring meback to those daysof hopelessnessand heartache-back to thosewoeful evenings.Mama,please don’t sing.Your voice,Your melodic music-your lullaby-brings tearsto my eyesand bloodto my wrists.Mama… Please stop singing.Your lyricshurt me morethan theyheal.
Childhood Thoughts...Always a houseNever a home...
SolitudeFrom dusk to dawn,my soul...it lingerscold andalonein this desolate placethat we callreality.Though inhabitedby many,these arebleak andforsaken grounds.I feel thatI'm trappedwith no way out,no escape,no blissawaiting me...Without a future,without a purpose,my yearning soul...it roamsthis earth;this grave...As the darknesscontinues toconsume me...As the numbnessfeeds onthe remnantsof my sanitya littleeach day.
...And Her Name Was 'Ana' It was in my distant and depressing middle school days, that I’d become well-acquainted with a girl named Ana. I can remember, quite vividly in fact, when we first met during the first trimester of the sixth grade. Those were the days; those elementary school days. Though my peers and I were younger and much more naïve back then, I cannot help but feel so conclusive that, despite of our lack of worldly knowledge, we were still so inexcusably cruel. The experience was unlike those of later years to come. Indeed: it was much more scarring. Perhaps, that simple expression “words hurt,” is what led me to Ana. She was the ideal kind of girl; little Miss California, Ana was. Her lengthy, slim figure could sell any sort of attire that adorned it, and her translucent, glowing, pale skin sparkled in the light of the sun just as flecks of quartz would in a sidewalk. But it was her hair, and her eyes - oh her eyes!- that everyo
Afraid and Alone...Tears stream downfrom forlorn eyesA fountain of purest substance,flooded with lies...Tainted by insult;my disrespected youthShrouded in deceitand deviated from the truth.Beaten down by thosewho held my trust...And taken advantage ofwith a searing lustConsequence camewith anything that I said;Whether 'twas fib or fact,my tears were shed.I barely withstoodtheir trembling furyTormented and questionedby my own kinsmen's jury...I could take it no longer;the road was too rough...My virtue was eclipsing;silence and faith wasn't enoughI lost my path in dusk;my innocence fled to darker landsWith a box of sharp objects,I took matters into my own hands...Shrouded by mists of confusion and pain,I didn't know what to doLeft afraid and alone,there was not one soul I could turn to...And even if there was...They wouldn't have cared to know...They wouldn't have cared at all...And they wouldn't have understood.
Flawed Canvas.Your lipsleft watercolorstainsall across my heart.My blood isn't evencrimson anymore,its a pale and dyinglilacthat bleeds onto the floorand paints a pictureof you.
.she never carried enough oilto keep her own life burning
The EndThere are shards of arctic skyin my soupand they crackagainst my voice boxand they snapinto my burnt-out throatand they scrapetheir graffiti on my sternum.The sky lives in me for a moment.A biting skythat fights for resurrection;it pools in my eyesand begs to be readin the subtext of a stormy exhale --and that North windheads north, heads spinning - heads.Heads. Guildernstern is deadAll are betrayers.They tempted the madness in me.They spoke to it.It grew bigger. I grew bigger.I grew until madness blacked the sunand now,now:there are shards of arctic skyin my stomach.For I have seen humanity spread thinover the mouldy crust of a dead rock.I have seen them abolish my starsand blot out hope.They grew me,they cultivated me, groomed meand now there are shards of the sky,pinwheeling in my oesophagus.Now the madness has eaten the moon.Now, We are over.
~ How Dare You ~How dare youYou spinner of lovely words...How dare you weave me a web of glistening endearmentsOnly to trap me in their sticky, meaningless embrace?How dare youYou artist of deception...How dare you paint me a picture of loveThat was only a forgery to begin with?How dare youYou bearer of lovely items...How dare you shower me with priceless affectionsThat in the end were mere plastic coins?How dare youYou coward of a human being...How dare you claim to be a brave knightOnly to run before the battle even began?How dare youYou double-sided coin...How dare you show me your clean faceOnly to expose the filth that lay with a simple flip?How dare youYou foul excuse for a human...How dare you claim me as your precious treasureOnly to abandon me as if I were only trash?How dare youYou inconsiderate, spoiled child...How dare you take possession of my fragile heartOnly to throw it back once you had broken it?How dare you...?
GuillotineThe guillotine chopsThrough sandstone,Rusted blood andWhite rock,Before my voiceEven had a chanceAt redemption
UnspokenFor the loveI never shared.For the thingsI'll never tell.For all the secretsBig and small.For the timesI ignored the calls.For all the wordsI left unspoken.I'm now drowningIn my emotions.
How?How does one manage to cut their skin?Tear the veins that run within?How do you carefully steal a knife?The tool that's used to end your life?How do you hide from prying eyes?How do you muffle your painful cries?Where do you cut so that no one will see?So no one at school will question me?How long does it take to disappear?A day, a month or even a year?How does one pretend not to care?Pretend to read but simply stare?How does one refrain from eating?But not act like you're competing?How does one fill the great black hole?Without the hunger taking its toll?How do you make yourself violently sick?How do you get your body to tick?I've tried before but there's one small snag,All I can manage is a pitiful gag.But perhaps the question I should ask,Rather than how to complete this task,Maybe I should just sit down and cry,And ask myself not how but why?
Can I?I told himI loved him,And that IWanted himTo be happy.But can IReally sayI'm okayWhen he looksAt herWith loveIn his eyes?
Here's to the PeopleHere's to the girl with the broken glass heart,surrounded by friends, yet so far apart,to the girl with the ocean in her deep blue eyes,to the girl that never once cries.Here's to the boy with his dreams on the floor,just looking for peace, yet starting a war,to the boy who laughs in the face of fear,Yet on the inside sheds a few tears.Here's to the people who never got a chance,to the people who never got so much as a glance,the world won't say they never pursued,the world will say they soared high and they flew.
Ink My HeartInk my heartWith the namesOf those Who loved me.Tattoo my veinsWith the wordsOf thoseWho left me.Brand my soulWith the bloodOf thoseWho forgot me.Until I'm coveredIn the inkOf days past.
Behind the ScenesI'm suffocating,But nobody can seeThe storm ragingInside of me.I'm screaming,But it's silently,My throat is tired,From crying quietly.I'm dying,I need help bad,Someone help meBefore I go mad.I'm hallucinating,I'm seeing things,It seems to beWhat craziness brings.I'm bleeding,My heart is gone.My soul itself hasEscaped with a moan.I'm done,My body is weary.My eyes are heavy,I can't see clearly.I'm not breathing,Why cant you see?All this is going onBehind the scenes.
InvisibleI'm invisible,Everyone knows that.I have not a presence,I have not a voice,I have not a reality,I'm just not there.It really isn't fun,Because my emotionsAre ignored,My ideas, my thoughts,Are discarded,My body, my being,Is pushed around.Maybe if ICould open my mouth,Could make myself talk,Could make my Presence known,I would be seen.But I cant,So I'll disappear,Go back to my world,And not speak,Not show emotion,And be invisible Again.
Awareness.She writes such lovely poemsBut nobody really caresShe hides them all the timeTo avoid the judging staresShe wrote one yesterdayAbout a boy who said he loved herBut to her own dismayShe caught him with anotherShe wrote one about schoolAnd the words painted on her locker“No one likes you, stupid bitch.You’re lucky I’m at soccer.”She wrote about her parentsAnd how she wished they were togetherBut she knows that won’t ever happenAnd forgetting’s probably betterYes, she writes such lovely poemsBut there’s so much more to thisSee, her pencil is a razorAnd the paper is her wrist.
PonderingsI want to be someone’s love.I have so much love inside,But no one to give it to.Like a moth to the flame,I am drawn to those who cannot,Or will not love me back.I have bent over backwards,Trying to earn their affection.Doing things I regret,Giving more than I have,All to get even a crumb of affection or love.Time after time,I find myself used and discarded.Unneeded and unwanted.I understand in my headthat I must like myself.That if I don’t respect myself,No one else will either.Still,The longing remains.The longing to love and be loved.My family thinks I’m too giving,And they try to protect me.Still,How can they protect me,When the choices were mine?I’ve given this much thought.Yes,I am a broken,Shattered mess inside.That doesn’t mean I am incapable of love.If anything,It means I love more fiercely,More completely than someone whole.I won’t judge scars or depression.After all,I deal with those too.If I knew a safe
The Warrior Who Won't Come HomeThere once was a warrior, so sweet, so kindShe knew what she wanted, and she got it on her own.A man she had found, so faithful and trueBut she had another callingTo leave her lover behind.So valiant, so brave, she left her whole world behind her, saying,"I shall be back in a year, no more! I promise!"She went to the land of the poor, the sick, the helplessShe saved lives by the thousands.There were so many thanking her, their souls all in debtBut she was so humble to not take the fame.A year passed, having done so much, but she couldn't break free.She said to her fiance, still waiting for her at home,"Boy, how I love you and miss you greatly!One more year, then I'll rejoin you."But the year came and went, the warrior still valiant,Still brave and so true.3 years passed by, her marriage postponed,
The Love Story You Gave MeI, We kissedYour lips tasted like heavenBut you left traces ofBurning hellDown my throat.II, We lovedWhen our skin brushedthe wound on my thigh somehow rooted into buttresses of your veinsIt poisoned your heart androbbed your breath away.III, I leftThat night when your eyes burnt in liquor wildfireI could smell her perfume on our bedYour lips tasted like vanillaAnd my tears tasted like bitter blizzard.(G.L)The Love Story You Gave Me
The MonsterBehind every smile is a smirk,Behind every laugh is a growl,And behind every good deedThere is an evil, evil plan.His eyes are searching, missing nothing,His tongue is sweet and sharp,His intentions are nothing if not murderous,His heart is as cold as ice.He uses people for his pleasure,He finds out hurt to be amusing,He cannot love, and does not want to,He traps the naive within his grasp.He's evil, he's a monster,One I've spent much time with.I've figured out his tricks, his lies,And how he manipulates the world.He tried to break me, hurt me, kill me,But I've survived and seen through him.I'm a loose string, a oops, a mistake,Because now, I can reveal who he is.He tried to woo me, pretend to love me,But it only worked for so long.He tried to threaten me, scare me,But by then, I was already gone.Watch out, don't let him catch you,He'll rip your heart out, tear you apart.Don't get close, don't let him trick you,Take my warning, he's a monster.
The SpyTo him, lying is a way of life.Whether it be in dark alleysOr in brightly-lit capitols, He's become wary, canny.Word's to top off his disguise,His eyes miss nothing,His ears are far from deaf.If someone was to merely glance,He would look like a normal manJust going about his day.Little do they know,Any slip of the tongue,Every suspicious reaction,He catches and remembers it all.Sometimes he infiltrates,Sometimes he's just there,But no matter where he goes,He's a hazard in every way.To his target, to his country,To everyone he knows.Because he lives a life of lies, And who can trust a spy?
Foolish...You can't undothe damage done-You can't relivethose lonely years-You can't resuscitatesomeone who haslong ago since drowned...And you cannot menda broken heartwith the useof a simple "I'm sorry."