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The Cabin [Red, Red Rust]All the dirt and the rust of life grows quickly enough four you to watch, if only you'd stand still.
Time holds no power here amongst collections of dusty memories.
The embryo lays hidden:
An unborn child in the placenta of the red, red rust.
The fear of his last moments remain imprinted in the floorboards;
The ghosts of his emotions are left to haunt you.
The crackling rage roars as the flames consume the fear and the hurt of the red, red rust.
If a cabin burns in an empty forest and no one notices,
Will you still be able to find the Ashes?
Letter from LoveI miss you when you're gone. Things aren't that bad here, really. I don't know what it is. I guess something's wrong with me. But I feel so panicked. Like, I'm slipping and I don't know what to do. My fingers are plunged deep into the ground above me, but all I have to grasp is muck and I can't hold on for long. I feel like any day, I'm going to crack. Because I always do. I'm anticipating it so much, I'm nearly ready to push myself into it. To hurt myself so I can get through the pain that I know will somehow find me. Why can't I feel good when you're not around? You think you're messed up? At least you can function. At least you can pretend everything is alright. I'm crumbling and no one's around to see it.
Come back soon,
Words of Heartache"Actions speak louder than words."
While your words are harsh,
Your actions are brutal.
"I like you."
Doesn't mean the same thing as
"I love you."
Your half-hearted attempts are practically worthless.
Can't compare to
"I wish you were here."
But for reasons I can't find or explain,
I miss you...
Not that you were ever around for me to miss.
InsomniaThis fortress was built to keep the world out and lock our happiness in.
But as I lay here, I wonder if we failed.
I curl into myself,
Wrapped in lace and satin.
Waves of black velvet cascade down my back.
I should be happy, I know.
Yet, I can't help but to wonder, as you sleep soundly, if we were wrong.
Laughter and shrieking reside only a chamber away.
Worry and reality pace just outside the door.
Loneliness lurks at the back window.
But we remain in the center, hollow and healing as we desperately try to fool ourselves that we'll be alright.
Here we lay, three broken hearts in a castle;
Stumbling through darkness, nearly crashing every which way.
We put on a brave face, laughing at our mistakes.
But at night, no one can deny such an empty silence.
A Quick [Unintentional] RhymeI want a Christian Slater guy;
One with dark, mischievous eyes
And a smile that's wickedly sly.
Yep, I want a Christian Slater guy.
Malice in Underland: IntroductionAlice's hair fell about her as a chilling wind bit harshly at her cheeks. Cautiously, she wrapped the bundle in her arms tighter and continued down the quiet, empty London streets. She was little more than a dark mass, blending evenly with the shadows of the night. Perhaps it was for this reason that no one seemed to notice this bustling young woman as she proceeded hastily down the street. Perhaps, no one cared to bother with the unknown figure, and simply continued with their blissful lives. Either way, no one cast a single glance; not even when she slowed beneath a flickering street light and climbed the stoop to a dark building.
As the bundle in her arms began to whimper in protest, Alice smiled sadly and began to sing a soft lullaby to the infant child.
"Speak roughly to your little boy and beat him when he sneezes,
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases.
Wow! Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow! Wow!
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases," she practically whispered. It
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Wrong ['I really need you now.']Please come back...
I didn't mean it.
I didn't know I'd done it.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I never wanted to push you away.
I don't want you to hate me.
But I knew...
I knew you had always thought I was strong.
That nothing could ever truly harm me.
Despite our intelligence, we weren't as mature as we thought.
We were still fooled by that cursed "Teenage Invincibility" mentality,
And Lord, we were mistaken.
So when I suffered, I turned away.
I didn't want you to see me;
Didn't want you to know of my pain.
I know better now,
I learned I was... "wrong".
Keep in Touch!