Share a story that has hurt you.
Something that ripped you to tiny piece and made it as though you didn’t not think you would survive.
Share that story, leave out no details, because I have a feeling this will help you heal.
Realize how much you have conqured.
The painful memories you can’t bear to hold.
Just let them go.
Share me a story if your deepest fear. Tell it all and leave out no details.
We need to see we are not alone.
Thespian plays to end the day to
Dreaming but I can’t forgive
Them all dancing gracefully
As I fall down in shame
Screaming, screeching in my brain
Full of aching pain
That’s never ending
This dream full of dancing fools
Beating to the sounds of hearts
Falling , failing one beat at a time
Is evident here as I crawl in line
To sample the delight
Full of white lines and broken glass
Raised on high as crowds stand
With applause in hand to cover the sound
Of a thousand dying hearts
And fading parts
I guess I have overcome a lot in my life. At times this is not really easy to see. I surrounded myself with self defeating imagery in the hopes that it will help me see reason. But it never works.
I know that others have it worse.
I know that I am in a better place.
I know it.
I see it
But that doesn’t always help.
I am so used to it and do not know how to change it. If I am being honest here, I think I need it. I have spent so many years of my life hating myself and others around me that it is pretty much the only way I can tell that I alive.
I think I made a comment about how I am not good with “positive” stories. I do not do love. Or happiness. Or joy. Not unless someone is suffering in someway. I fully admit that this makes me an edge queen and quiet possibly makes me seem a bit immature.
But…this is my therapy. This is how I heal.
I may surround myself with negativity but it is the only way I can used to things.
Send it below or Fucking use it
I remember the day I told my friend that I would use this very qoute from her book. I was maybe 16 and have since lived by it.
My past defines me because it gives me the ability to create this things. I use it. So with my pain, and lonliness, and heartache, and stress, what am I?
So yea…I do not think I would have a purpose without it. I may never ever really get better and I am ok with that.
It is a kindess to believe otherwise and I just do not have the space for that.
Still I respect it all the same.
I told you that I was a curse
At worst a mistake
Upon a broken page
Pierced heavily with a holy blade
I am a demon made of sin
Because only the devoted would let me in
I am something to be forgotten
But those words spoken so prettily
Could never be the real me
I wish I was a demon
I wish I was cursed
I wish there was a reason
To leave this earth
Because I need purpose
I don’t want to feel worthless
Because I am not her
I will never be
I am not the key to your heart
You see
But there is nothing else for me
I am not a demon
I am not cursed
And no matter how much it hurts
I am worthless
A purposeless fraud
Just a sad little girl who is lost.
A/N I have not been doing well lately. Kind of depressed…ok fine, loads of depressed. All of the depressed please and thank you. I can tell you how it started buut I rather not. Since I still want to keep doing the challenges I will devote this week to the emotional drama that is my mind. Chemical imbalances for the win.
For those who do not like this kind of stuff all is well. I am only allowing myself a week to do these types of poems. After that I will save my innermost emo ness for outside of the challenge post. Because truly would I really be me if I didn’t debby downer the world.
I think I am a curse
Not that I will admit to it outloud
But still, I am
Something that is best discarded
(I look better in the trash)
Something that is best forgotten
(I look better in the past)
I am a curse And at worst
I am a nightmare edging on a dream
Just waiting to be discovered
A simple mistake
A makeup of fatal takes
I am a disgusting curse
Put on this earth by mistake
Should have never taken that first breath
Should have laid my soul to rest
It surprised me that I liked it
The way you laid before me
Arms reaching out for some reprieve
I could see it in your eyes
Tears of glory full of grace
But I hold the rod you see
I am the one who makes you bleed
It surprised me that I liked it
So far from my conformt zone
Maybe it’s the look on your face
A sort of pain that can’t be faked
I can see you reach for a reprieve
As though that will save your life
You forget me dear for I hold the rod
I will be the one who fixes these wrongs
A/N I am not doing well… Hmmm mistakes were made. I will go over this another day.
Also pretty sure I misused the word Reprieve
So as one can tell I am not good at sticking to plans. I had planned to write about love and ending on writing about self-hatred and love for someone else. This was not my goal but it is were my mind is going. So for my week of poems I will be focused on writing my emotionally draining stuff but will try to pick back up with the original theme in the following weeks. Sorry that I suck so bad.
When you hold me, I am not fully there
I am not…I am not aware of all that is between us
Stuck in my own head I grin and bear it
Suck it up and pretend to love it
Your soft whispers and Your wondering eyes
Your hands that hold, gently touching mine
To insecure to let you know
I stopped loving you a long time ago
I used to crave your every word
Lusted for you when the nights were cold
But something changed inside of me
Slowly, slowly I started to grieve
I am not beautiful as you say
Nor am I smart
Wise
Kind
Or brave
I am not a women worthy of your lies
But I guess this shouldn’t come as a suprise
I was never happy with myself
So I pinned it on everyone else
Found my heart in broken things
As if fixing them would fix me
You were just as lost as me
Yet here you stand as proud as can be
I resent this love you feel so deep
Because it can no longer placate me
As you whisper
As you hold
I can feel my heart growing cold
I do not love you anymore
Of this I am aware
Yet I will go on pretending
Praying with all my heart that you can fix me
A/N this took awhile. Sorry about that.
I am not a fan of writing cliches, acually, I am a huge fan but I am not always tolerant of them.
The basic bad boy who turns his life around thanks to naive little pretty girl who think she is ugly.
Of course they have the techy (or sassy) best friend who is constantly by their side.
They are cliches because they work. We see the princess ready to leave her dull and unappreciative world behind and we wiggle in our seats. We see the handsome warrior who could kill with a single touch bow down to a common women.
“Love is a fickle thing” , we sigh into our drink cups. Clutching our books closer to our face.
But
There is still a problem with them.
Cliches allow readers to a greater understanding of where the story might be going. Rarely do we get stories that pan out a different way. YAs usually end with the girl getting with the outcast. The only times she ends up with the guy who “socially acceptable” is when the other ends up being a villian or is a tool.
The young boy who is trying to avenge his family will manage to do so but it will always come at a cost. His mentor or a family member will die within the first few books, maybe even the first few chapters. He may end up with a love interest but rarely will they stay together.
So I always know what story I am getting when I start to read. I know how it will end even if I do not know all the details that will lead to that point.
As I said before, cliche are considered such because they are overused but because they also work. There are only so many ways a story can go and patterns are really hard to deviate from. Yet, many readers and publishing companies expect writers to always be original no matter what. If they are not then there is a good chance their book will not be accepted.
Should we celebrate that fact?
I do not think so.
I despise cliches but I also love them. I am comforted by the fact that I can see the ending a mile away. Because I live for the journey. I live for those moments where the author gives me something I was not expecting. Like a book in which the sick person truly does die at the end.
Or a story where the boy was not able to avenge his family.
A story where the couple breaks up at the end
Or maybe one where, dispite the odds stacked against them, the villian is the one who wins.
I love those moments of uncertainty and I love those moments of clarity.
I guess it is the weirdo in me.
I do not need you to save me
To help me understand
I am not wise
Am far from kind
But you can not save me
I am a monster
With my emotions
My actions cause you pain
You with blood on your hands
You with hatred in your eyes
Try to disguise
To save my soul
But I am to far gone for hope
A/N I have some catching up to do. Was not feeling well.
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 