A sight in the sky
From feathered wings tipped in gold
Fly, and catch the sun
A sight in the sky
From feathered wings tipped in gold
Fly, and catch the sun
He took his time with me.
I do not remember screaming, but it must have been loud enough to wake what demons had been standing by. For when I opened my eyes next they had been sitting at my side with such pitiful looks. One gently laid his hand on my chest while alone started to cry. When he took away I could see blood from a wound I could no recall ever getting.
Carved into me so deeply
There may have been a moment when I tried to move, but I can not remember. Waking up in a room full of people who could not see. Their eyes sewed shut with broken pieces of red string. I only just begin to notice one sniffing the air when I begin to hear again.
Someone nearby is weeping
Carefully I extend a hand. Grasp for what left. What’s there. I do not think she has noticed me. So committed to her screaming. There are tears I wish I could expend but I fear the meaning would be lost to her. Poor lamb who got caught. Poor lamb who may never get up
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
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.
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
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.
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.
Today I told my therapist that I did not know what real friends looked like. All I learned about relationships was through a book or TV screen. Real life friends are vastly different from the reality I would sneak away to as a child. The one filled with dragons, and princesses, and ghost, and those with way more freedom then I.
Normal people scare me, though I guess this is not all that hard to see. I tend to struggle to be myself often letting my written word take precedence over my spoken one. See, I am believe in always telling the truth if I can help it. Written words can tell no lies. So the real me can be found in the things I do not say but in the things I write.
But I guess this is not the most ideal way to communicate with others. Maybe that is why I do not really know what it means to have “adult” friends. I have never had it modeled to me. Still, I can not say that I do not have friends.
I have one very precious to me and, though she may drive me crazy sometimes, I hold her very near and dear to my heart. I can remember what she told me when I explained to her what made her different from the rest. See, her and I share things that I do not share with others. I do not tell my others friends how I feel through everything that I go to. I do not go into details if asked how I am doing. I honestly, do not think many of them would care. Still, I call them friend because they are kind to me. I value their time even if they do not understand the true me, the real unfiltered me. Not like this friend does anyways. With her I do not always feel shame. Maybe this is because we were both stuck in our fictional worlds for such a long time. She knows what I mean when I say that I feel nothing while smiling. She knows what I mean when I say that when everything as I am trying to force myself to sleep. She just gets it.
And yet, I question this friendship because it reminds me of the reality I had as a child. There are times when I think she is a figment of my imagination. I will just wake up to discover that her, her little girl, and my own are not real. I feel it coming and I am afraid. And she understands that even if she does not share the same pain.
I think this is love of which friendships are suppose to be based on. I say this because there are times when I do not understand it and she is often made to explain this emotions. Love is silent. It creeps up on people when they least expected and is not always that easy to see. There are times when we do not know that it is there. Anger, sadness, rage, depression can disguise it in ways you don’t even know. But that does not mean it has gone away.
With this friend, I am not always happy with her. There are times when she makes me feel so terrible. There have been times when I wanted to never speak to her again. But love is a fickle thing and also catches me off guard. Like those times when I am angry with her but she comes up and tells me that she appreciates me. There was a day when I decided I would tell her that I never wanted to speak to her again but she messaged me asking me if I was OK. She told me that I was an amazing person and that she was so happy to have me as her friend. At that moment I realized that my anger was unnecessary and we talked through things.
Even when one of us is being an ass.
I do not think this is something that a lot of people would comprehend as good thing.
See, I created a reality to escape the pain. It taught me to see monsters in everyone. I do not trust easily and can speak a lie like the best of them leaving only my written word to be truth. I did this because I was afraid to be alone but to afraid to reach out and make connections. While in her own reality my friend flourished under the same turmoil. So is it any surprise that we get along so well?
I was not lying when I told my therapist I knew nothing of friendship. I am too flawed, to jaded by life, to be able to really be a decent one to anybody. But with her by my side I am OK with this. Neither of us wanted to be perfect anyways.
This blog idea came to me thank to The Dream Girl Writes from her A to Z challenge post titled Annoying Friends. I wanted to show my friend how much she meant to me in the best way possible and seeing The Dream Girl Writes post made me think that creating this post would be a good way to show it.
To my best friend Jen, You are absolutely one of the most amazing person to ever play a part in my life. We may not always make the right choices in our friendship but it is one of the purest there is. You mean so much to me and I am so happy to know that our children share the same bond. May we break the cycle of those who came before and raise them to be amazing little humans as well. My bestie westie for all ways Jen.
And thank you Dream Girl for that wonderful first start to the A to Z challenge! I wish you all the luck.
~ I am proud to say that my best friend also has a blog (peer pressure at its finest lol) you can read some of her work here. I may be a bit biased but she is a really talented writer.
Edit: I just found out last night that my friend and I had the same idea for a post. So make sure to read her post for C – Catharsis