Your Sadness
The scream is stuck inside my throat / Inside my head I hear it burst
/ I want to feel the sting of a silvery blade / As it quenches my
deathly painful thirst / Fuck, my eyes are leaking again / Make those
acid drops stay inside my heart / I can't breathe, can't keep myself
alive / As emotions tear my insides apart / I break apart and it all
falls out / Freeing me of this wretched sting / God damn it, make
the voices stop / Tearing holes freely as they sing / "You stupid
girl, why do you feel / The way you do, it's pointless and wrong"
/ Through the years I've come to know / Too well the tune of their
song / So bring me help and let me go / Away to die and set me free
/ Of all the anguish, agony, pain / Your deadened eyes / Your tear
stained cheeks / Your hurtful words / Your sadness always brings to
me /
My Ocean
Alone in a sea full of / Nothings and what ifs / I wonder if I'll
ever / Make it to shore / There's not to be more / Than this pain
and misery / That I'm drowning in / Where is the gladness / Amongst
all this madness / That I put myself through / For the sake of others
/ In their own rowboat / I sure wish I could float / Back to my life
before / Things went awry / And I didn't want to die / No, I have
to keep going / Even if it doesn't feel right / The waves keep crashing
/ I'll end up smashing / My own heart to pieces / Before I finally
act up / I just want to wake up / This must be a dream / But I'm not
asleep / This pain is real / And the water is deep /
.
Playing in the Rain
Rain is falling / Big, icy drops / I jump over puddles / In leaps
and hops / My hair is damp / In thick, black strands / I close my
eyes / In the peace I stand / I open my arms / Smile at the sky /
Like this I am happy / Screw being dry / The filth is gone / All washed
away / Clean and perfect / On this rainy day /
.
Writer
Writer's blood. Flowing not from aching wrists that long for the moment
she snaps and grabs for the razor blade, but from a simple ballpoint
pen. The blue ink still as bright against the page as any blood, and
just as potent to anyone reading as watching a suicide. Just as painful
to the writer as any self mutilation. The soul may pour out of a body
through their veins, or through their fingertips, the pen, and captured
on the paper. The poetry, the stories, the venting of any and all
emotions through this sacred art form can be just as chillingly painful
and relieving, still as useful in aiding the person's inability to
deal with a situation in a real way. She loses herself in the writing,
in the words flowing tranquilly or angrily or sadly across the page,
as anyone may cut their wrists, in anger, frustration, sadness, or
general inability to deal with a situation in a rational way. Writing
is the alternative.
.
.
For You
Though my heart aches / From second guesses and wrongful words / The
love it feels is unwavering / Though my eyes are wet / From crying
a former life’s tears / They glow and glimmer in your presence
/ Though my soul is broken / From a thousand moments past / You’ve
mended its cuts / Though my wrists are scarred / From the flimsy blade
of depression / They grow fainter with your love / Though my lips
had forgotten / The true meaning of a smile / Your kiss brought forth
the memory / Though the wick of my life was short / And the flame
barely flickering / You bestowed a new candle.
.
Untitled
Cold weeping on deaf eyes / Don’t know why / Can’t explain
my / Feelings of illiteracy / In wisdoms book / I mustn’t look
/ Back and forth from him to you / Breaking hearts / Tearing apart
/ The only shine left in my soul / Because of you / And your love
true / It isn’t easy to fake this smile / Day after day / Know
no other way / To go Licia, you’ve done it again / Fucked up
their lives / With selfish lies / On a hard and shadowed bed of tears
/ I should’ve known / I guess I’d grown / Too in love
and blind to see / That you were right / But I put up a fight / For
what I thought would be for the best / A hope deep inside / But now
that has died / In my sleep, nightmares are gone / Bullet in my head
/ Thoughts are now dead.
.
Who Am I
In my want for acceptance/I’ve forgotten myself/I’ve become
everyone/
Everyone else/I’m a pot full of everything/My own yet not so/Who’ve
I become/Only I do not know/I am . . . anybody/A someone made of all/Not
knowing how much/I can rightfully call/Me./Who Am I?/I’ve become
what I’m not/Can’t be what I am/Don’t know how much
is real/And how much is a sham/In this stew I’ve become/I’ve
forgotten one thing/The crucial ingredient/A full cup of me/Who am
I, you ask/Well, you tell me/I am being all/I can possibly be/But
me/Who Am I?/I’m the way he says hi/I’m the smile on her
lips/I’m the way that he sings/I’m the hands on her hips/But
this is me/This medley of you/Everyone ever known/Except one girl,
I once knew . . ./They’ve become me/Which isn’t all bad/My
only wish is/I could still have/Some of me./Who Am I?
.
What Do You Do?
What do you do,/When you’re last in the line/Of happiness among
your friends?/Their hearts are all dead,/And the joy they once knew/Is
ignored and replaced by pain./What do you do,/When you try to be cheery,/But
it gets harder and harder everyday?/Because people bring you down,/And
tell you of their hurt,/And you just can’t take it anymore./So
you deaden your eyes,/And piss everyone off,/With constant bitching
because bliss is lost./You sit in your room,/ With screaming music
blaring,/Disregarding your homework and slitting your wrists./What
do you do when a friend needs optimism,/But there is none left?/Since
yours had long been shut up./Yet you attempt to help,/But only cause
more trouble,/And you realize that you can’t keep this up./You
throw away the blade ,/And awaken your smile,/And wipe the dark make
up away./And you try to live again,/As you try to find,/Where your
cheerful nature might fit in./What do you do,/When you’re last
in the line/Of happiness among your friends?/You don’t give
up hope,/Help them to be happy,/And let the contentment shine through
of your soul.
.
Vampire
The fabled vampire strikes his prey/In shadowy alleys on moonlit nights/Yielding
only to the light of day/When he rests, secreted and out of sight/He
creeps throughout the murky night/Stalking, catlike, for fresh blood
to spill/An enticing life, soon to be deaths bride/To share in the
intimate act of the kill/He pulls his love to tight embrace/Wielding
his gleaming, dagger teeth/And, using his immortal grace,/Sends her
to a world beneath/Two small punctured stars draw out/Cherry tears
to beget relieving death/And as the life flows in from out/The cherished
victim steals one last breath/On and on the blood flows hot/From the
energy of the sacrificed dear/To the icy veins of one who’s
caught/Between life and death for eternal years/He gently lies the
limp form down/Now departed for things beyond/He glides off from the
dusky town/Walking silently towards another dawn
.
They Ask
What are you thinking?/What are you feeling?/Thoughts are swirling
in my head/Emotions twirling in my heart/Too late now, we’re
almost dead/Fear churning deep inside/Time now to shut out all the
world/Crawling to a darkened corner/A candle burning this little girl/Flame
tearing at her soul/What are you thinking?/What are you feeling?/“How
the fuck am I to know?!”/Said through confusion’s tears/“Tell
me what you want.” “Why? No.”/It doesn’t matter
anymore/Leave me alone for death to steal/Drifting alone in an ocean
of fear/Wanting a reason to feel what I feel/Finding no comfort here/What
are you thinking?/What are you feeling?/I thought I’d be able
to smile for you/Maybe not now, but in the future/For now, though,
the smiles are fake and untrue/Death’s cold hand grips my heart/I
fear the day it’ll all collapse/We’ll find it may be for
the best/I’ll be a crumpled up ball of joyless mass/For all
the world to pity/What are you thinking?/What are you feeling?/That’s
what I’m thinking/We’ve lost all hope/That’s what
I’m feeling/Dead in my skin
.
The Voice
Happiness is/A state of mind/I have often/Sought to find/But what’s
the point/In sailing that sea/When only storms/Surround me/They toss
and turn/And steer my course/Down the pathway /Of the voice/That tells
me all/That I do wrong/In a silent /Screaming song/It scratches hard/And
draws black blood/Bleeds my joy/Until there’s none/I run away/But
it’s too fast/It weighs me down/With all my past/Mistakes and
pain/Stupidity/It takes delight/In reminding me/That I am wrong/Hardly
right/Bringing tears/All through the night/It grows stronger/As I
grow weak/Until I feel that/I can’t speak/Only cry/And shrink
away/From all the love/They give to me/‘Cause I’m not
worth it/Broken and dead/Because of that voice/Inside my head
.
My Corner
I left them for my darkness/For a corner I knew well/A place for only
shadows/This is my personal hell/‘Tis a shame that they did
follow/Did not let me melt away/For on this path I’ve chosen/I’ll
lead them all astray/I lead them not to gladness/But only to despair/They
told me it was safe, though/So I guess it’s only fair/I only
wanted love, you know/I only wanted peace/But now the demons corner
me/To begin their reckless feast/My heart is first ripped open/And
the black tears flood the room/If I’m lucky this dark corner/Will
become a murky tomb/To pay back the pain I’ve given/My soul’s
the second course/It’s slit and life flows freely/Screaming
out in the downpour/I am now completely lifeless/Since my love has
slipped away/I’m alone in my grim corner/And forever I shall
stay/I wish to disappear now/Since I’m nothing left but shell/Please
don’t come to look for me/I’d like to stay in hell.
.
Beautiful Poison
My eyes are leaking impurities / I cleanse myself in the downpour
/ I’m glad I meant so much to you / Even if it’s nothing
at all / I just want you to know / I’m dying for you / My words
are not meant to care / But they have a mind of their own / There
are so many things wrong with us / Who are we to judge imperfection
/ I just want you to know / I’m dying for you / And I’m
happy / Happy your love was the most toxic / Beautiful suicidal poison
/ So don’t cry for me / Pain is my favorite pastime / So this
time / I’m glad I’m dying for you
.
Puppet Show
Her I sit, helpless and hopeless / Bleeding, crying, and depressed
/ Despising the pretty disposition / Of the happy-minded population
/ Ravishing the sky and trees / Like a dirty black disease / Raping
the individuals’ minds / Forcing them to conform, keep rebel
thoughts confined / Crying out to a pop-icon in the sky / They’re
left disheveled, broken and dry / Like dirty laundry, thrown in the
corner / They smirk and walk away, disown them / Not coming back ‘till
they become / Mindless puppets like everyone / So Welcome to our little
show / Here’s our disclaimer, so you’ll know / We’ll
brainwash you and steal your soul / Your mind is ours, go out and
kill / Bring us souls to feed off of / You’re here forever,
sorry love / Please come play with us, cut the strings / Set us free
and let us sing / Before we die within these walls / Let us out, hear
this call / We’re suffocating, losing ground / Cut our strings,
tear the stage down / We’re already empty, don’t let us
die / Bring us wings so we may fly . . .
.