That's the thing about art, if it's done right it will make you question all you are.
I am a nobody. A seventeen year old nobody. I wear my dark hair straight, as it was given to me. I place strands behind my ears when I concentrate.
Oh I lost myself In the debts of my dark mind Never to be found.
As I lay down to sleep Head feels light, bones feel weak If I decide to never wake I have one wish I chose to make Let me dream as the days go by Let me dream as time does fly Let me dream as the...
“She had blue skin, And so did he. He kept it hid And so did she.
Sing to me my dear. Your silvery voice is what I desire to hear. Let the words pour out into the air as it gets thicker. Let me lay and hear your strong voice turn to a whisper. The pain stung.
I lit a cigarette while waiting for the bus. Then came the regret when I noticed I was blowing smoke towards an elderly women. I lit it out and she turned towards me.
The sun has now rose, how greedy she must be to put end to the fun. #nightdwellers.
Dwelling over the past How fast it all has passed Regrets collect like buds of cigarettes Like smoke filling our lungs and darkening our soul Blackening our tongues and taking all control.
I fell in love with a sad girl. She had an interesting mind. I memorized every angle of her curls. Every detail I could find. For I new I couldn't keep her. Someday she would just leave.
I love the warmth in my blood and the shift in my brain I love the thrill of the chug And forgetting my pain I love the crave for a puff and to burn my mind I love the lust the sex and the wine..
I would love to waste my life watching Star Trek and lose myself in all of the shows. Drag my self into another dimension. Off to outer space I go. Exploring alpha and beta quadrants.
Pour out the thoughts you have at night I want to really know you Show me your mind and the flow of your hands When your pencil dances across a paper so gingerly.
Do not fear me dear I am the one who saves you From the pain life brings.
The first thing I learnt in Physics is that energy cannot be created nor can it be destroyed; it can only change from one form to another. Energy is conserved. We all conserve energy.
It's been so long since I felt that thrill. Skin burning, mind ill. It's been so long since I played with fire. Grab something metal light it for a while. It's been so long since I marked my skin.
Bit by bit each letter will erase Then words Then sentences Then speeches And eventually we will be left with nothing to say to each other.
-I wrote this poem for a girl who never smiled. Her name is Ivy, like the poison.- Her skin was pale as the moon as if it never met the sun and the black clothes she wore created a contrast.
I can hear the wind blow It used to whisper but now it screams Pushing all the delicate things If I would only step outside It may be my chance to fly.
#acrostic. Standing there in front of me. Every curve on her body I. Desired tremendously. Under her lingerie I wish I. Could see but I must control. The temptation that has come over me.
I couldn't bring myself to say what I should have. My voice chocked up when I got the chance. Words lingered in my throat, stabbed. When on my tongue they should have danced. So now I lay with regret.
I've come to realize I am lost. Lost between the pages of books. between the lyrics of songs. Pieces of me lay between each word Kurt Vonnegut wrote. Between each strum of Jimmy Pages guitar.
when a writer speaks, listen because if they are willing to spill into your ears what they would normally scribble, in ink and tears, across a sheet of paper, or tattered leather journal you are...
BANG. I hear as I turn my head Lying on the floor is my mother shot dead "How could I let this happen" I say.
We spend forever trying to escape sadness when we can simply kill ourselves. We're scared. We wonder how much worse it can possible get but we don't do it cause of hope.
Sometimes I wish I had the guts. To put end to all that I feel. To conquer the demons within me. To fully and truly heal. But at times it swallows and consumes me. Changes everything I can be.
"Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die." - Looking For Alaska by John Green..
Let the poets cry themselves to sleep.
I'm tired of being sad. I want to relax And free my mind from All negativity, But as hard as I try The feelings still come pouring in. Happiness is hard to maintain. ©2013.
I fell in love with the night. And The radiance of the moon. I enjoy the dust of the dark. But hate day that will surely come soon. How lovely thoughts bloom. In the bask of the moon.
I can feel his breath It takes the sadness away The way he touches me so meekly Just feeling him there Tosses my troubles aside.
This may be a little dark. So read only if you'd like.
You left me with no soul No self control..
He was breath taking yet tranquil. His body was a work of art, bursting with exquisiteness as if Van Gogh had painted him himself. Although there is so much more behind his beauty, it was unknown.
I wanted to be desired I wanted him to want me I wanted him to fuck me But then somewhere along our big pile of lust I wanted him to love me ©2013.
And so I listened Listened to the silence The comforting emptiness in the air and I relaxed I took a breath so deep the ocean was envious And suddenly my mind was set I loved a boy, a perfect...
Forget me please. I want to live alone in a pool of old memories. Trust me please. I'd be better off alone and you'll be better on your own, Just don't touch me please.
You hear a sound so loud But it's all inside your head. You cry and cry for help, But you're soul's already dead. "What's the damn point?" you say, "I'm useless, stupid and sad".
Take a bite of the apple dear and away with your innocence. It's nothing special anyways. So give it up and sniff this line feel the comfort sin can bring. ©2013.
I have exceeded my limit. I've broken and cracked. I can't take this for another minute or second in fact. My mind is at war with itself and its draining me out. I need to find happiness within.
“Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” - Veronica A. Shoffstall, “After a While,” 1971 This is just part of the poem.
I think I died three months ago. When the sun kissed the earth goodbye. Cause my mind hasn't spoke ever since. And my lips have been shut dry.