Old poems, thoughts, words, etc,
No specific order.
I've written more, but those are much more personal.
My thoughts, my decisions. Don't ask to see more.
One:
Your face is the last I wish to see,
Sunken in eyes that utterly disgust me.
So into yourself with every fcking word,
Stupid arrogant boy, when will you ever learn?
For every tear you cry I have cried thousands.
Love me now? Screw your manipulations!
Damn your weaknesses, you fcking waste of space!
Go through with it this time, die without a trace
See if I care, see if I cry for you now,
How about a smile? Here I'll show you how!
See if my world turns, see if its all you've been hoping for,
It will only show once and for all that I don't love you anymore..
Two:
Sometimes I wish there were some other place
Where I could walk on forever and not see a familiar face
Sometimes i wish i could erase the day we first met
All the damage would be undone, every ounce of pain
I could look into your eyes as a stranger and feel no threat
Sometimes I wish you could hold me, and start once again,
But whats there to end if I hadn't let it begin?
Three: (Wonderland)
Come fall in rabbit holes with me,
Hold my hand, whisper in my ear
Let's go to where I should really be
Where I'm not so alone in here.
And they wonder why I cry like so
Why do I sink so low?
It's so dark down here, and I'm afraid of the black,
The air is too cold, and oxygen I lack.
I'm not good enough, and I'm a fool,
I'm too naive, you're probably too cruel
Someone, pull me free of the cold of the night
Show me what love is, bring me back to the light
Four: (I never claimed perfection)
She bites her lip as she sits alone in the park
Memories flood every capillary, every atom in her heart
Children surround the swing set she has retired in
Her head bowed low, as though she has sinned.
They laugh and glow despite the small hand of the dial,
Oh, she wishes, she could remember how to smile
Circling around her for hours, their joy is lovely.
She stares back, with her dead eyes filled with cold, hard, envy.
As the sun falls down, the children are chased away
She still sits there sobbing, until the rise of day
The children, they come and go with the dark.
But with no one to go home to, she remains in the park
The boy she was waiting for to push her on the swingset,
until she flew high enough to go back to when they met.
He said he would not leave her, if he did, he’d return soon
But he, like a child, had been chased away by the moon.
Five:
DELETED
Six:
DELETED
Seven:
DELETED
Eight:
DELETED
Nine:
DELETED
Ten:
DELETED
Eleven:
DELETED
Twelve:
I am not who you thought I was.
She’s vanished, gone under the slender black lines of ink,
That snake over porcelain skin,
Like threads of spider-spun silk.
I was never who you thought I was.
It was all an elaborate game,
Just me playing dress-up in another girl’s skin.
And your horror when I shed it.
I will never be who you thought I was.
My heartstrings have always tugged me in different directions,
You’ve always been too naive to understand.
You cannot accompany me.
I can not be who you thought I was.
The things you want from me I cannot give.
And I can no longer bear your disappointed glares.
All I will take from you is the memory of your face in my past, fading.
I am not who you thought I was.
I am a contradiction, a maverick, a thousand things you don’t understand.
I am everything you thought I wasn’t.
And, in truth, I am happier without you.
Thirteen:
In the end, perhaps there will be a finality that none of us have dreamed of. The finality we all desire. Or perhaps there will only be a round of applause for a job well done, and a handful of flowers to commend our act.
In the end, we understood that the self-absorbed nihilists of high school were much more correct than ever they could have dreamed.
See, at the end, nothing we'd ever been or done or made mattered; and neither did that. At the end of all things, finally, finally, we reached the punchline of the Universal Joke. And God, did we ever laugh when we knew that the ending of the world mattered less than anything.
In the end, all we can really hope for are the memories that we've accumulated throughout our life are enough to make it feel worthwhile.
In the end. I'd like to believe that everything will be explained, understood, and that the past injuries will finally be healed; the ones Time could not perfectly seal. We all are waiting for the end, betting against one another on beliefs, but who is to know? The End won't solve everything we need answers to. It won't be the last, greatest epiphany. It'll simply be the peace we wish for. The greatest silence, the longest rest.
I believe that in the end we will all come to an intense self realization and we will see eveything that we should have done, and that maybe it wasn't everyone else that made our lives so bad, but our own selves. All we have to do is change our point of view.
In the end, all that matters is that it happened. Not that it ended.
It's finally the end. The end of us, at least. And I realize now that humans ruin everything. We will never be satisfied until we destroy ourselves. What will happen in the end? Maybe the world just might be a better place.
Fourteen:
Just around the corner...
is a miracle waiting to happen. a life ready to blossom. someone waiting to be found.
Just around the corner...
is a book waiting to be read. a movie about to occur. a composition waiting to be played.
Just around the corner...
are words aproaching fate. a beautiful frond of stars. a feeling streching oblivion.
Just around the corner...
is this moment. this laughter. this eternity.
Fifteen:
Night is beautiful. The time between the past and the future. The time when you may cry yourself to sleep, under darkness' comfort. The time when you can contemplate your life. Night is said to be the time when spooks come out to play. To me, spooks live in the school hallways, and in the misery of family troubles. Night, is not scary. Night is soft, yearning for love. Night is when you can sit by the window, and look at the moon. Look at the moon, and imagine all the other lonley people in this world staring up at this orb of hope. Hope that others may relate to you. Hope that whatever tomorrow brings, you may be able to stand up against the chaos, sent daily to try you. Night is when you can dream. Night is when you can think about your feelings, and attempt to comb your ways through the knots you cannot untie. Night is when you can cry. That peaceful moment between time and eternity, when you are alone. When you can pray to the angels above and ask for a better life. Night is when you can stroll endlessly through the streets. Alone. Unknown. Silence. Nothing mixed into your future for those few majestical moments, but your heart and mind. Night does not just make me open my eyes wider to see. It helps open up my soul. And though the time passes quickly and flashes before your eyes, night is predictable. It will always be back to love you like no one else. It will come back to wrap you up in silky blunt and envelope you in the brutal comfort of dark. Whispering melodies of yesterday to fill up your body and take over your soul. Murmering its lullaby like a lover entrancing you to sleep. Comforting peace and tranquility between yesterday and tomorrow.
Sixteen: (Compilation with Amber Simmons)
Every night she sits awake
Won’t you save her for her sake?
Crying and bleeding till late at night,
All she wants is to be held tight
Carve his name into her wrists
In fits of agony she twists
She was his game of chess, his pawn.
She doesn’t want to see he’s gone.
To shatter her seems his intention
The life she had can no longer be mentioned.
And yet, she continues to dance under his strings
His beautiful face makes angels sing.
He was her one true love, the only one
His beautiful eyes could paralyze and stun.
Wrapped in him; she was completely defined
How could this boy have her so confined?
Love gives you the chance of being broken
“I love you,” is all that needs to be spoken.
To give him a chance, to break her heart
So there she sits, shattered, torn apart.
Seventeen:
A thousand beautiful people
all stab at your heart
those poets of movement
and geniuses of art.
Those high volume vendors
who hustle romance
splashing their canvas
with color and dance.
The blasters of trumpets
gold banners unfurled
they offer lush gardens
in glistening worlds.
yes, bearers of torches
and carvers of stone
who whisper their solioquy
and surrender their thrones.
And there in your doorway,
no shadow is cast.
no lingering voices.
no ghosts from the past.
just a cluster of walls
and a window of pain.
collecting the heartache
like droplets of rain.
Still I stand before you
with eyes to the sky
no thoughts entrancing
no one on my side.
And all can offer
where words have no place
is this body that trembles
and this love that awaits.
I've written more, but those are much more personal.
My thoughts, my decisions. Don't ask to see more.
One:
Your face is the last I wish to see,
Sunken in eyes that utterly disgust me.
So into yourself with every fcking word,
Stupid arrogant boy, when will you ever learn?
For every tear you cry I have cried thousands.
Love me now? Screw your manipulations!
Damn your weaknesses, you fcking waste of space!
Go through with it this time, die without a trace
See if I care, see if I cry for you now,
How about a smile? Here I'll show you how!
See if my world turns, see if its all you've been hoping for,
It will only show once and for all that I don't love you anymore..
Two:
Sometimes I wish there were some other place
Where I could walk on forever and not see a familiar face
Sometimes i wish i could erase the day we first met
All the damage would be undone, every ounce of pain
I could look into your eyes as a stranger and feel no threat
Sometimes I wish you could hold me, and start once again,
But whats there to end if I hadn't let it begin?
Three: (Wonderland)
Come fall in rabbit holes with me,
Hold my hand, whisper in my ear
Let's go to where I should really be
Where I'm not so alone in here.
And they wonder why I cry like so
Why do I sink so low?
It's so dark down here, and I'm afraid of the black,
The air is too cold, and oxygen I lack.
I'm not good enough, and I'm a fool,
I'm too naive, you're probably too cruel
Someone, pull me free of the cold of the night
Show me what love is, bring me back to the light
Four: (I never claimed perfection)
She bites her lip as she sits alone in the park
Memories flood every capillary, every atom in her heart
Children surround the swing set she has retired in
Her head bowed low, as though she has sinned.
They laugh and glow despite the small hand of the dial,
Oh, she wishes, she could remember how to smile
Circling around her for hours, their joy is lovely.
She stares back, with her dead eyes filled with cold, hard, envy.
As the sun falls down, the children are chased away
She still sits there sobbing, until the rise of day
The children, they come and go with the dark.
But with no one to go home to, she remains in the park
The boy she was waiting for to push her on the swingset,
until she flew high enough to go back to when they met.
He said he would not leave her, if he did, he’d return soon
But he, like a child, had been chased away by the moon.
Five:
DELETED
Six:
DELETED
Seven:
DELETED
Eight:
DELETED
Nine:
DELETED
Ten:
DELETED
Eleven:
DELETED
Twelve:
I am not who you thought I was.
She’s vanished, gone under the slender black lines of ink,
That snake over porcelain skin,
Like threads of spider-spun silk.
I was never who you thought I was.
It was all an elaborate game,
Just me playing dress-up in another girl’s skin.
And your horror when I shed it.
I will never be who you thought I was.
My heartstrings have always tugged me in different directions,
You’ve always been too naive to understand.
You cannot accompany me.
I can not be who you thought I was.
The things you want from me I cannot give.
And I can no longer bear your disappointed glares.
All I will take from you is the memory of your face in my past, fading.
I am not who you thought I was.
I am a contradiction, a maverick, a thousand things you don’t understand.
I am everything you thought I wasn’t.
And, in truth, I am happier without you.
Thirteen:
In the end, perhaps there will be a finality that none of us have dreamed of. The finality we all desire. Or perhaps there will only be a round of applause for a job well done, and a handful of flowers to commend our act.
In the end, we understood that the self-absorbed nihilists of high school were much more correct than ever they could have dreamed.
See, at the end, nothing we'd ever been or done or made mattered; and neither did that. At the end of all things, finally, finally, we reached the punchline of the Universal Joke. And God, did we ever laugh when we knew that the ending of the world mattered less than anything.
In the end, all we can really hope for are the memories that we've accumulated throughout our life are enough to make it feel worthwhile.
In the end. I'd like to believe that everything will be explained, understood, and that the past injuries will finally be healed; the ones Time could not perfectly seal. We all are waiting for the end, betting against one another on beliefs, but who is to know? The End won't solve everything we need answers to. It won't be the last, greatest epiphany. It'll simply be the peace we wish for. The greatest silence, the longest rest.
I believe that in the end we will all come to an intense self realization and we will see eveything that we should have done, and that maybe it wasn't everyone else that made our lives so bad, but our own selves. All we have to do is change our point of view.
In the end, all that matters is that it happened. Not that it ended.
It's finally the end. The end of us, at least. And I realize now that humans ruin everything. We will never be satisfied until we destroy ourselves. What will happen in the end? Maybe the world just might be a better place.
Fourteen:
Just around the corner...
is a miracle waiting to happen. a life ready to blossom. someone waiting to be found.
Just around the corner...
is a book waiting to be read. a movie about to occur. a composition waiting to be played.
Just around the corner...
are words aproaching fate. a beautiful frond of stars. a feeling streching oblivion.
Just around the corner...
is this moment. this laughter. this eternity.
Fifteen:
Night is beautiful. The time between the past and the future. The time when you may cry yourself to sleep, under darkness' comfort. The time when you can contemplate your life. Night is said to be the time when spooks come out to play. To me, spooks live in the school hallways, and in the misery of family troubles. Night, is not scary. Night is soft, yearning for love. Night is when you can sit by the window, and look at the moon. Look at the moon, and imagine all the other lonley people in this world staring up at this orb of hope. Hope that others may relate to you. Hope that whatever tomorrow brings, you may be able to stand up against the chaos, sent daily to try you. Night is when you can dream. Night is when you can think about your feelings, and attempt to comb your ways through the knots you cannot untie. Night is when you can cry. That peaceful moment between time and eternity, when you are alone. When you can pray to the angels above and ask for a better life. Night is when you can stroll endlessly through the streets. Alone. Unknown. Silence. Nothing mixed into your future for those few majestical moments, but your heart and mind. Night does not just make me open my eyes wider to see. It helps open up my soul. And though the time passes quickly and flashes before your eyes, night is predictable. It will always be back to love you like no one else. It will come back to wrap you up in silky blunt and envelope you in the brutal comfort of dark. Whispering melodies of yesterday to fill up your body and take over your soul. Murmering its lullaby like a lover entrancing you to sleep. Comforting peace and tranquility between yesterday and tomorrow.
Sixteen: (Compilation with Amber Simmons)
Every night she sits awake
Won’t you save her for her sake?
Crying and bleeding till late at night,
All she wants is to be held tight
Carve his name into her wrists
In fits of agony she twists
She was his game of chess, his pawn.
She doesn’t want to see he’s gone.
To shatter her seems his intention
The life she had can no longer be mentioned.
And yet, she continues to dance under his strings
His beautiful face makes angels sing.
He was her one true love, the only one
His beautiful eyes could paralyze and stun.
Wrapped in him; she was completely defined
How could this boy have her so confined?
Love gives you the chance of being broken
“I love you,” is all that needs to be spoken.
To give him a chance, to break her heart
So there she sits, shattered, torn apart.
Seventeen:
A thousand beautiful people
all stab at your heart
those poets of movement
and geniuses of art.
Those high volume vendors
who hustle romance
splashing their canvas
with color and dance.
The blasters of trumpets
gold banners unfurled
they offer lush gardens
in glistening worlds.
yes, bearers of torches
and carvers of stone
who whisper their solioquy
and surrender their thrones.
And there in your doorway,
no shadow is cast.
no lingering voices.
no ghosts from the past.
just a cluster of walls
and a window of pain.
collecting the heartache
like droplets of rain.
Still I stand before you
with eyes to the sky
no thoughts entrancing
no one on my side.
And all can offer
where words have no place
is this body that trembles
and this love that awaits.