Gone I remember when I was young. Carefree. Jaunty. Sanguine. Small eyes fogged with lies Seen through artificial smiles, Drenched in delicate Perverse Calumny. Pleasing was always Daunting In a world expecting Perfection. More and more I have yearned for Their warmth. Craving praise in Every amercement. Only starving for A mother's love, Salvaging happiness To the last velvety Drop. Never once did I Bite the hand that Feeds, Meekly afraid of Doubtful scorns. Obediant I did stay While my childhood faded, Leaving what I regreted, To the hand
HimHe said he wouldHe never didHe said he couldHe never didHe said he shouldHe never didHe said he didHe never would
AngerAngerAngerRunning throughmeI shakefuriouslyIt's unbearableI can't hold onmuch longer"Stupid"It's trying topush throughMy eyesI hold back itbackFighting tokeep myself together"Dummy"I clench myfistsExcruciatingpainI can't walk itoffI just can't"Stupid"It breaksthrough my wallIt falls on mycheeksSqueals andsmall whinesCome from mymouth, resolute"Dummy"I can't take itI'm done withthisIt breaks meI shatter topieces"Stupid"
GayI am gay.I'm not a disease, I'm not a problemI'm not an afflictionI don't need treatment.I don't need helpI'm not sickI'm not confusedI'm not a sin.I am gay.I'm your daughterYour sisterYour friendYour co workerYour classmateYour acquaintanceA complete strangerI am gay.I need love, just like youI need smilesI need supportI need a hugI need a friendI need a familyI need acceptanceI need understandingI need youI am gay.I know what love isI know what pain isI know what hate isI know what life isI am gay.And I need you to love meThe same way you loved me before you knewI am gay.And I have experienced hateFrom more people than just youI am gay.And I wont change.I wont give up.I wont back down.I wont pretend.I wont lie.I wont deny.I wont hide.I wont hurt.I am gay.And that's okay.
Autism Is Not A DiseaseSome say it's a virus,That spreads like the plague,Until there's nothing left,But for those with autism,Instead.But why,When we're normal human beings,Like you?Yes we are different,But isn't everyone else,Like for those who are bright,While other's are dumb?Sure our brains are wired,All over the place,Making it harder,For us to think.But it doesn't matter,When no one's the same.And Believe me,This world would be a bore,If we knew our every move,Knowing what everyone would do.So let's hear it:Am I a disease,Or a living human being?
Nightmares' Art ShowI wish I could print out these horrorsMaterialise them from my decaying mindRemove them from my strained soulI want to hang them up like photographsat a sadistic art showand have you see these wicked imagesthat stream through my head each night(Do you realize now?They're all of you)
HetaliaxDepressed!Reader:Self-Inflicted AchromaticHetalia x Scary! Depressed! Reader: Self-Inflicted AchromaticI want to be a person just like you, don't you see?I want to be a person who is still being "me"A tired sigh escaped your lips. You were just so damn tired. The other countries said that you, (f/n) or (c/n), was scarier than Russia himself. But of course, you have lived 2500 years with wars and bloodshed always trailing after you. You just really want to be happy. But all those wars and blood imprinted on your mind, you really just released off a dark (a/c) aura and a stoic atmosphere.It really would be nice but I'm paying a price'Cause I'd really, not be me and that would not sufficeYou asked yourself, "I know my face doesn't show my pain. But isn't it obvious in my eyes? I'm lonely and hurt" You rubbed your numb (s/c) wrist, yesterday's cuts still had a colorless ache to it. You picked your silver knife, twirling it around watching the others argue. The said knife is the one you also use to cut yourself.A dream which
Darling, Don't You DareTo the girl who skips dinner,Because her reflection hurts more thanStarving.To the boy who wears sweatshirtsOn hot summer days,Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over hisScars.To the boy who weeps uncontrollablyUntil he falls asleep,Because it’s the only way to escape into hisDreams.To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,Because the dark is more peaceful than herMind.To the child who gets angry,Because no one understands.To the teens who self-harm,To the ones in recovery,To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…Stay Strong.For the girl who skips mealsAnd the boy who wears sweatshirts,For the boy who cries,The girl who hides,And the ones who just can’t do it anymore.Because darling,You’ve come this far.Don’t you dare give up on it, now.
Falling For Him...Falling for him wasn't safe or nice.It felt like I walked into a beautiful museum,a beautiful and mysterious building,but that building was on fire and there was no exit.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever andcrossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,I could only believe those wordslodged in your heartlike they did minebecause every time I think backI can't help but remember thelate-night conversationsunder star lit constellations,and study sessions where welearned more about each otherthan we did Biology but now it's clearthat each beat of your hearthas made those words fade,and you could care lessabout crossed pinkiesbut I'll still see you,and hear your voicewhisperingforever, and I'll still wishthe meaning hadn't changed-like you.
Through The FlameThrough The Flame:Can you feel it in the winds?The chilling cries of blood-lust that sing through the air...May your people weep at the destruction that is to come;While you mortals cower behind your wards of flesh and steel!How does it feel I wonder,This question I askTo those who have spent their entire existenceAmassing power over their fellows...Know now that your paltry gestures;Your pseudo-might is but dust,Cast into the violent wind of a whirling typhoon!Now, tremble within your hovels of concrete and steel,For I am rage incarnate and I have come to ensure,That your world will burn...
ace of spades1. i come out wrong.well, no, sorry.i come out loudly. i tell my friendsalmost immediately, beforethe puzzle is even halfway complete.i tell them that given the opportunityand the consent i would probablyfuck the waitress that waved at usas we walked in. but the wordsaren’t as true as i want them to be,mostly because i don’t want to fuck her,i want to hold her hand.i want to be the one that gets to hug herfrom behind and kiss her cheek when she’s sad.i wanna know if she’s afraid ofthunderstorms, i wanna know if shebuilds blanket forts, i wanna knowher stance on eskimo kisses and if shewould let someone like me beher little spoon.but there’s not a word for that,so i say fuck when really i mean cuddle,and i come out wrong.2. when he kisses me, i trymy hardest to think about fireworks,but inside me there’s nothingbut a clock ticking in my head,counting the seconds untili can be not kissing him anymore. i pull backbecause my
OppositeOpenDon't close itOnDon't turn it offColdDon't warm it upUpDon't pull it downInDon't take it out