Stop hating her for the littlest things.
The things she can't prevent,
The things she can't save herself from..
Stop demanding her to do things,
Things she can't accomplish,
Things she can't imagine being done...
Stop lying to her,
Telling her you love her,
Want her, need her...
When all you've ever done is make her want to
Die.
Stop hating her for the littlest things.
The things she can't prevent,
The things she can't save herself from...
Because,
When those little things you've done
Take her down...
The little things won't matter anymore.
Behind my flooded eyes-
Reality secretly drowns
At the deep end of my heart's tide-
I break down without a sound
Smiles are simple masks-
Strength is an excuse
Weakness is a perfect act-
Scars are permanent proof
I portray a solid statue-
But my insides are ruined
I would only end up worrying you-
If you witnessed my tears blooming
-
I couldn't reach for your hands
Your love was always a depleting solution
There is no future with you while I live in the past
Your forgiveness never stood a chance against my self-discrimination
Old wounds consumed / Memories of you
Dreams became immune / Fears remained true
I had to let go of your essence
I am self-destructive.
You are the affected.
I’m a thought that’s still in motion.
You’re an idea perfected.
I’m a sacrifice without you.
But with your life, I’m injected.
I’m a thousand puzzle pieces.
You’re the way to connect it.
A Glass Warrior
The Sword:
Accurate, is the deliverer of thy last breath
Steady, are the hands that control death
Quick, are the decisions that commence
Life itself is put on hold
When war wages between reapers fueled by greed and hope
And freedom is at stake when the hidden beasts are provoked
-
The Shield:
Watchful, are the eyes that hide behind flawed masks
Careful, are the steps that keep a calculated distance
Fearful, are the walls that withstand every gory experience
Time is protection's worst enemy
As the hourglass of the mind empties
Prevention to all except the desolation of my serenity
-
The Armor:
Imperfect, are the morta
Before you kill yourself... by MikkiMarie, literature
Literature
Before you kill yourself...
Before you kill yourself,
Remember just one little thing.
There are places to go,
Where you have never been before.
How can you be sure those places are bad?
There are things to see,
Things you have never seen before.
How can you be sure those things are ugly?
There is a new tune to hear,
Something you've never heard before.
How can you be sure that tune is scary?
There are words to be said,
Things that have never been said before.
How can you be sure those words are hurtful?
There are dreams to be imagined,
Things you have never dreamed before.
How can you be sure that they are nightmares?
Darling, please don't give up.
Please stay st
How many have I had? Why would you ask such a question?
I've had--only three! Yes, three I swear.
What? No--of course not, what are you suggesting.
Those: I can't quite see them clearly. Oh! Oh dear...
No, you, you must understand this was--just a bit of relaxation,
A little sip to help me sleep.
No--No, don't cry, I'm not going back to those days; I'm not!
I swear it was just--just a passing shower I...
I...
I'm sorry...
It's just been hard...
It's been so difficult!
WHERE WAS I SUPPOSED TO TURN?
...
But it's not your fault, I know that.
I suppose I was simply looking for an excuse...
I was drowning you know, in the icy wate
boys with bird names cant actually fly. by DearPoetry, literature
Literature
boys with bird names cant actually fly.
i fill my lungs with blackberries
& nicotine because it is the only way
I can stomach the taste.
a phoenix told me once
that he could teach me
how to burn properly,
as if scolding
had preferences
[ like the intercostal
spaces of a ribcaged
embrace. ]
he fell in love
with my words
first,
before he knew
the height of my
cheekbones
or the annoying
sound of my laugh.
he said he could count
all my scars on one hand-
even the ones that wake me
at 3 am with an itch i swear
begs me to rip them open
again.
& i told him he could keep
his pretty words and fiery fingers
creatively away from me.
i am tired of smelling of hell
& as
She dances with fire, a dragon in tow.
Twirling with flames; graceful and slow
She dances tonight, in a city of ash.
Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash.
Quietly mourning, as time goes by;
Where once she beheld a home in her eyes...
Yet naught but the barest of bones remain,
And so she dances, to soothe the pain.