Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?I cry. Does that make me emo?I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.Does that make me different?Maybe.But at least it makes meMe.
FrostbiteNumbnessI can’t feel my toes and at first I thinkIt’s just my toes.I can cover them up.I can warm them. It spreads, like fire,Like ice.I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are coldPat –patThat’s funny, I didn’t feel thatMaybe I’ll cover them up tooI’ll warm them up. I’ll take a napMaybe a short rest will make it all better, warm themUp…What’s that? How long has it been?My legs… are you still mine..Why has my breath left me, short?Has everything but deserted me? What about you, are you still here?Are you still with me?Hello?And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –
You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...But I'm glad you don't.Because that would meanYou'd have to go through my pain.And I'd never wish thatFor you.
Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,Why do you take our rights?Our human rights?To who we love?To who we are.. To our image?Tell me.You force images down our throat;Images of airbrushed, false lookingpeople. You want people to lookmore skinny and cause anorexia,More along the hidden line thatyou dig under the ground likea dead forgotten body yet always thereYou show us that its not right to be gay,lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..And then wonder why the suicide rate isso fucking high. You cause the nightmaresand terrors of our family not accepting usour
Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,Screaming out for everything.They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,Where the air is cold and the stars never shine. Memories leave their traces behind,The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.I was climbing a rock,That would forever leave me with a flaw. They were the youthful cries, screaming out.They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.The beacon of light that is now dying out,I never wanted it to go away.Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,I am drifting further every day. It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.I want to hold onBut each day I lose more ground.Soon they will be gone without even a sound. Th
Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character whonever existed but in the labyrinth of her head:a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy wordsshe’d heard in her catatonic state; coma livingday in and day out, reliant on the salvationof a man made of foreign wishingand imperfection and necessity – an ignorance of the less than ideal perception of self she’d come to fear, absention stained romantic to the pointwhere daydreams were a standard for survival(real living is for the purposeful of heart,he loves her in her sleep)
I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But ithasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day. I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have keptthem close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall onlyso many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but bythe ways they fear to tread.One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't live restrained anymore.""I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were Imake the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done." You ha
Silent and GoneAlong the blue streams of those who were simplistically glassed, I drag my wooden, empty coffin; it contains only my past.For the many decades I've lengthened have expanded pain's time; across shallow mountains and beatings I prepare my final climb.Through harsh mists and soft grasses the journey trembles on; days on end without my voices; alas, I realize they are gone.Near all abandonment's shelter I rest without ease; my halved demon appears before me; she speaks hellishly in the breeze.Forgiveness and hallucination she crisply burns in my eyes; I must awaken and continue, 'tis my time to remain wise.To a judging stream near the g
the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise rings drip off your glacialfingers into globalnothings. the geodesicdome you used to live inis a hell you keepclean-shaven and concentric,spiraling away from you,wrapping your unbornchildren up in paper goblets.for minimum wage, any geryonwould cling to the terza rimainkblots on yourcollarbones, his spongy molarsdiving into your rightangles, his familiar laughskilling your skin withshivering cuddles and youshudder, being self-diagnosedat center of the universe,your hair a nest of radiowaves, the one cosmicprinciple drumming on the ancientheart of mystery.but amateur porn alwaysmade you cry
lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrowsand the density of leavesagainst dew-muffled blades of grass,and I'm drowningin the sky.My skin has learned howto peel itself off without causing a commotion in my marrows or even show the slightest hintof pain,and my heart has learned howto hush the stars in their wakeand keep it all a secret.There's a sea in my mouthand I can't swim. There are lifelines cast like these and it will all end with the same tragedy.
The WaitingBones hang from treesHollow windchimes rattlingIn the sullen breezeDark clouds make noonday duskRusted buttons on threadbare coatsSorrow drips like rain(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)Hoofprints kill the grassWhere the dark horse stepsThe rider unsmilingThe tired and ill amble aboutCattle awaiting the shoulder tapTo sleep, but not to dream(To become whatever the second birth dictates)
Happily AloneHonesty,She does not have,Personalities,She has many of them.A million shields,a million personalities,She's always changing, to fit every person around her.If one were to ask why,she would answer with,I will never reveal my weaknesses, because she's evil.She hates everyone,stupider than her is barely tolerable, smarter than her is too scary, She hates it all.She leaves the world behind,To one she has dreamt of,No color, nobody else.Then, she will smile,why,because she is truly happy alone.She is not evil,She does not hate you, She is not dishonest,She simply wants to be alone.
of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,atop Africas and South Atlantics;this is one situation unaffected byember eyes and windy lashes(it has no anatomy).You are sparrows strandedin tiny crevices and cliffside love,though you rebuke flightin the fear of chipping feathers. So what do you do?You reach for my soul,coveting flight with shakingdainty arms…and perhaps I’ll let you:With flytrap lips and glass shaped hips…you are unfit for anything butsight.(But beauty isn’t everything)
A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstonesLeaves piled ankle-deep, falling downOld wells, old graves, old friends lostPirate adventures in Neverland Don't go into that barnPonchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashesFrom the cold river, from afarRemember before they were born, how theyHeld hands and jumped into the worldDon't go into that schoolLadybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipseScrape the inside of your skull for cluesAll the old dreams are still there, petrifiedYou are a rock of ages gibberingDon't go into that factory
Ashes on the SandWe put you ina crystal boxsmall enough for meto hold in myhands(and that thought gives mechill bumps)The tide was highwhere we took youand I remember thinkinghow pointless it was(you were just going to washup on the shore)Everyone was quietand some people criedand as you were tossedout to sea like somany grains of sandI thought how muchI missed you(Now I think how muchI hate youfor leaving)
The End?Is this it?Is this the end?Is this how I will go?Retired by my own heartRevenge for the pain its been throughThat must be what it isThis burning in my chestSearing me insideClawing at my lungsUnable to breatheOnly to gaspThe hopelessness hits meAs suddenly as lightingOn a cloudless dayTears start to pouras the painThreatens to explodeI fall to my kneesI can't take itI beat my chest desperatelybut the monster won't come outJust let it endI dig into my armNothingAching to screamBut my throat has betrayed meDig as hard as I canBut the monster has a hold on my soulJust...Let it end...The
For NowWhen I tell you somethingYou don't want to listenWhen I don't want to talkYou won't leave me aloneYou bring me painYou add to my stressYou bring on my breakdownsAnd you don't see the tearsYou turn a blind eyePretend everything is fineThat this smile is realYou don't know what's behindYou think I like being here?You think I care about you?You think that as soon as I get a chanceI won't burst from my cageleave you behindand never come back?Well I guess ignorance is bliss...for nowBut I wonderHow will you feelwhen you pass my empty room?
Pursuit of HappinessWhat is the meaning?What is the point?Where is the sense?All I see is a mess.All there is is preparation for whatevers nextAll there is is sick temptation that leads to messy endsAll thats lefts a frail foundation damaged by our handsAll thats left is sick starvation for a moment of sweet bliss
HateI hate myselfI hate my hairI hate my faceAnd what I wearI hate myselfI hate my mindMy imaginationAnd all of mankindI hate myselfI hate my heartI hate my painAnd how I fall apartIt hurts me when othersSay these thingsYet I feel them often On poisonous wings