A Wasted LifeHe never sang, and rarely talked,He never ran, and always walked,He never stared, and never balked;Never crept, and never stalked.He never drew, and never painted,He never led, and never waited,He never fought, and never hated;Never smiled, and never dated.He never danced, and never played,He never doubted, never swayed,He never read, and was never afraid;Never believed, and never prayed.He never loved, He never lied,He never laughed, He never cried,He never gave, and never tried;The most interesting thing he did was die.
The Cause of Restless NightsWhen I’m lying down to bed,Whilst memories play through my head;And embracing sleep just takes too long,‘Tis not the things that I’ve done wrong.But what keeps me up at night,Is the things, I did not do right.
I Might Not Be What I Seem.Mean LookMy eyes are so dark; they’re the devils mark,Or at least that’s what some people say.My insides are cold, and I have no soul,That’s why my eyes are this way.Nervous & Shy I’m just to quite, to be alright,There must be something awry.Heaven forbid that I’m just a kid,Who suffers from being too shy.LonerIt’s always just me, as any can see,So I must just like being alone.It’s not like I feel, or my emotions are real,So I’m better off out on my own.BrawlerGo ahead and kick me, go ahead and feel free,To force me into fight.My fangs are all bared, but not cause I’m scared,Cause that just couldn’t be right.Weird or DifferentI’m a figment, a monster, something to be cursed,Something that’d never be missed.I make you feel weird, so you torture my fears,And pray that I’ll cease to exist.All The AboveI’m not really week, and I’m not
A Fleeting DreamOh what little things I know,Like grains of sand, or flecks of snow.Though much I've heard, and much I've seen,'Tis nothing but a fleeting dream.
My Raggedy FriendI once knew a man, who was all alone,With nothing to his name;But a stick with a light, and an old bow-tie,And a blue box that went and came.And the galaxy called him insane.I once knew a man, who saved my life,Because he had nothing better to do;He was silly, and crazy, and a little bit strange,But his heart was brave and true.And the people called him, Who.He flew a ship, with many rooms,That looked no bigger than a locker,and watched over us, throughout all time,Our unappointed proctor.And we called him the Doctor.He fought with me, the enemy,Until the very end;And though I lie about to die,I cannot help but grin.Because I was glad to call him friend...And the Doctor Always wins.
No One Will Miss MeNobody sees me when I bleed,Nobody hears me when I cry,So it’s safe to assume, and easy to see,That no one will notice at all when I die.
Starlit AngelAh my little angel, smiling down on me,Shining from above the clouds for all the world to see.Ah my little angel, looking from above,Gazing down upon the world with happiness and love.Oh my little angel, how I miss you in the day,How I long, to gaze upon, your bright and smiling face.Oh my little angel, you mean the world to me,You found me in this lonely world and set this captive free.Ah my little angel, how I love you so,More than words could ever say, or one could ever know.Ah my little angel, and Oh my little star,You rarely show, and will never know; how beautiful you are.
Not Enough TimeThere are so many things that I want to do,There are so many things that I want to say.But there is only so much time you know;There are only, so many hours inside of a day.I'll be lucky, when I'm dead,If I say half the things I wanted said.And I'll be lucky, when my life is through,If I do half the things I've planned to do.
Crayons of art?I once knew a kid, who could draw like van Gogh, with beautiful colors and shades;Its curios still, I never did know, how they sparkled like jewelry and jades.The weirder thing still, was not the child’s age, you see what you must understand;Is that he drew these great things, and made these great works, with not pencils, or brushes, but crayons.Crayons of all things! I couldn’t believe, wouldn’t, if I had not seen for myself;And the kid was so young, that he needed my help, to fetch his crayons down from the shelf!I’d be lying a bit, if I didn’t admit, that I was a little bit jealous;Of this kid who flew, and shone and drew, -with such pleasure, and fervor, and zealous.The lesson I learned, was not one I’d earned, but rather one I was shown;By a little child, more than a little bit wild, who dreamed of no more than he’d known.You don’t need great tools, like the ones made for fools, who believe that that makes the man,But the
i have to be okayI think the worst kind of breakdown is when you know you’re having one.When you are painfully aware that the defenses you worked so hard to build are turning into dust, like you put no energy into them at all, like they were so weak that they did nothing. And I listen to music so loud that the waves vibrate in my skull. It slows down my thinking. i can’t think nearly as much as I could. I shouldn’t think. Should not. Cannot.It’s so hard to ignoreBut I have toHaveTo.
.I tattooed your nameacross my heart butI told the artistdon't go too deep,these things don'tlast forever, you know.
DysfunctionalDysfunctional 7/1/14I am an only child but I wasn't a lonely one.Some days I think it would've beenbetter to have had a youngerbrother or sister to tortureand somehow be an example to.Funny how youngersiblings are like puppies.Always coming back for more -with adoration oozing from their pores.At what age do they halt seekingattention or acceptance?Love is always there regardlessof how we treat each other, right?I find the family dynamic unparalleled.How can you fiercely love and hatesomeone so completely at the same time?And so it goes with ties that bond."I won't speak to you for 30 years!" Who says that?There is no logic in the twisted web of blood.I find no solace in my past.Snippets of joy sprinkled intobuckets of pain.Even still, I have learned overthe years to forgive.For my own sanity and forthe sake of my possiblefuture family - Or I will be destinedto repeat the demented cycle.Perhaps it doesn't matter andall families share some cruel genetics.S
seven truthful thingsi. give me a second to scratch the itch in my heart with a bulletii. or perhaps i'll use that bullet to clear my mindiii. how often do you catch me tracing that morgue-studded line running up my wrist?iv. my eyes linger on knives so long they carry their very own scarsv. remember your first kiss? mine tasted like road killvi. my real father's a ghost, the other's just a murderervii. my existence is a temporary thing, and i'm not patient when it comesto endings. but that doesn't mean i didn't enjoy everything prior to the credits
BeautifulBeautifulYou are incandescently individual.From the lashes that sweep your cheeks,to the lips that quiver with trepidation.The sky doesn't fathom your eyes;or the fingers that gesture and flutter.There is none akin to your voice,that which you speak is yours alone.Contemplate the slope of your skin,the indents betraying your dimples.You are incandescently iridescent.If they say you are not lovely;they speak only of themselves.
Towers - 1- 008With what Taylor had just said, almost every student groaned in unison. It sounded much like Valessa's earlier sigh, yet these ones weren't exaggerated. As most younglings did, the majority found that school was boring, especially when faced with the same lesson time and time again. They only sat here on a daily basis because it was required of them.Valessa offered this free room and board under the pretense that they would learn about the world and advance their education. Her goal was to ensure that they knew right from wrong, and the just and unjust way of life. Of course, this was not something easily attained; and so she had to shush them of her own accord, hoping that this would cease their ongoing criticism. Even though she was the current headmaster of this orphanage, and largely respected -- respect didn't always mean complete obedience, as the following actions confirmed.“Hey now, kids. Calm down, it's not the end of the world. Just sit through this lesson one more t
Based on a True StoryThere are no such things as heroes or villains in this world, his father had once told him. Just people. Tony realises this is true as he watches the smoke, watches as it rises upon its haunches like some terrible thing about to swallow him whole, watches as it rubs its grey-wolf muzzle against the windowpane.Spidey isn’t going to come crashing through that glass to save him. Superman isn’t going to appear either, blowing out the flames as if they were nothing more than candles on a birthday cake.His heroes don’t exist anymore; they’ve died in his head.No, if Tony wants to escape—if he wants to fucking live—it’s up to him. Only him.Twelve-years-old and here he is making life-or-death decisions. Tony’s brain is transmitting his father’s voice again, telling him to run for all his miserable little hide is worth, but Tony’s feet have fused with the floor. The heat is building up, and Tony wishes that Gregory was her
Suicide Is Not An Option IIThough it's true you tried,Sometimes you need to try harder.And keep trying.
Character's Plea to a Lazy Writer“Don’t leave me. Please,” he begged.I sighed. “I have to. I don’t even know what I’m doing…”“No one does, that’s the point! It’s a learning experience, and honey, you’re losing.”“I’ve barely even done anything!”“And that’s the problem. You can’t give up now! If you do, I’ll….”“You’ll what?”“I’ll ruin my life.”“Uh-huh.”“I’m serious. Without you, I’m nothing.”“You’ll be fine, Luke.”“No, I won’t. I’ll become an alcoholic.”“Sure you will.”“And I’ll sleep with tons of women.”“Not my problem.”“And…I’ll…become an angry cat lady.”“You’d need to be a woman for that.”He pouted, grabbing my abandoned pencil and throwing it across the table
SacrificeThe blood trickling down my chestIs the same blood dripping from the bullet on the ground.The heart that was puncturedIs the same heart still beating for you.The world that is so stained and bloodiedIs the same world that you live in.I will protect youWith, regrettably, the only life that I have.
Stubborn Love (2/20)I'm mad at myselffor not despising you witha burning passion.
i'm not good enoughI had a dreamthat I woke up without acneand that you wanted to date melike in the movies but I'm sorrythis is not a dream and I'm sorrythat I am waking up with flaws this timeand I am sorry
UnknownDarkness and shadowsLoom in the soul.Pools of tearsDrowning in sorrow.
CureThese inner feelingsI must now releaseCure heart from painAnd set myself freeThese chains I removeFrom my soul and mindSo I could breatheBe whole once again
Beautiful.They say I’m beautifulBecause of the way my crystalline heart reflects light off its fractured surfaceWell, that isn't a reflectionIt’s rejection of the light because it’s all too much to handleThrow myself away into the dark without even a candle‘Cause I don’t want to recognize all the pain I’m inOr realize the truth behind what I am or who I've beenAnd I tried to make things right but I just keep on making wrongI never listened to the angel on my shoulder when she calledI count my tears like they’re experienceAnd my scars like they’re mysteriousAnd that’s a feeling I’ll remember –Watching as you leftWatching as you ended what was meant to be foreverAnd I can see it in their eyes; everyone can empathizeSo they say that I’m beautiful because they don’t know what else to say.But if being broken is beautiful, then it’s the ugliest way...
i watched it burn. i did. and i wished it was you.the sky is burning red this morning, do you think you could burn up, too?
OneI can remember exactly when i first met you.The slight crease in your face as you smiled.If one thing could say something, then that did.I can remember everything.You shaped me. Made me.We grew into each other. We fell apart with each other.I cannot remember anything without you.I can remember exactly when we first kissed.The way your lips felt soft and curious, against mine.If one thing could say something, then that did.I'd live a million miles away.Another life and world away, with you.If I know what love is, it is because of you.
Pearl When your heart is broken Don't believe those liars. The ones who say, "There's other fish in the sea" Why bother with a smelly, common fish, When you can find a pearl?And my darling…You are a pearl to me.
Being MeBreakable? Yes.Broken? No!Crazy? Yes.Different? So?Feeling? Lost.Looking? Blue.Hearing? Things…Missing? You!Knowing? Some.Forgetting? Lots.Writing? This???Dating? Not…Doing? Stuff…Acting? Free!Happy? Yes!Being? Me.