introspective
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I am naive,
I have everything.
Being a youngin,
Is not that horrendous.
Growing up
Is like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.
I am naive,
I have everything.
Being a youngin,
Is not that horrendous.
Growing up
Is like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.
I am wandering down a river bed
Without a map in my hand
Or a plan thought up
I saw the water drifting and
Floated along with it
Sometimes our attempts to escape reality
water wraps around my legs
sticky with salt
and bone numbing wisdom
my fingertips stroke murky clouds
billowing across
the sea’s glass
Hey little girl,
Deep down inside.
Don't you know loving kills?
Makes you vulnerable, you can't hide
I agreed at first because of the thrill.
Sometimes I wonder,
if what I write becomes reality?
In some distant universe my blunder
means catastrophe.
But if that is the case,
then what happens when I erase?
The "Looking Glass Self" says that how others view us is how we view ourselves.
It's amazing to think that we see ourselves through the eyes of someone else.
Look upThe sky is EndlessYou are the sky Look downThe earth is StrongYou are the earth Look forwardThe future is BrightYou are the future Now look backThe past is DarkBut you are not the past You are EndlessYou are StrongYou are Bright You are Eve
I have an unhealthy addiction.I think that’s whyI subconsciously refuse to evolve.I don’t knowif I’m too afraid to change,too proud to admit I’m wrong,or if there’s even a difference.
We sit quietly
Gazing furtively with lust in our eyes
We sit quietly
Shying away from talk
We are lovers upon the garbage heap
Can this just be the present
That everyday is
Even with a nemesis
Or without even saying
Wanting the same Even if it's in different shades
Or different context
White goose-downon Ebony shroud A flash of Silverbehind the Clouds There is Always a Reason
A dusty mirror catches my attentionInstinctively I search for my reflectionAs I look past the grime to meet my twinShe stares back with a maniac's grin
When people ask me who I am,
I stutter,
because for some reason,
the language of myself is foreign to me.
We could call it a result of bullying, mental illness, or plain teenage mystery.
Beauty is never a careful color
Its an angry amber, a vibrating violet
Courage is never a planned step
Its a shaky bridge, a broken ankle
Truth is never a smile and a wink
Its a broken dream, a sober triumph
There lives a girl inside my mind
Her face fragile, yet worn
She cried tears for a thousand years
And cannot cry one more
She sits stone-still upon a floor
Its boards scarred from her fists
Driving away, blistering through toll gates
of expectations and societal feign traits
booming radio raids of rebellion streak
Truth be told, I only saw what is real
Because my heart is an open sore that I do not expect to heal.
You see, a beaten and battered heart knows how pain feels
So it lacks all remorse when it comes time to kill.
I once made a choiceWhen a choice made meConsider the soulWhich I would solely beI could've gone rightTo just fitting inLeft all that was leftOf me, quitting again
You won’t find me in the crowd
My colors won’t capture your attention
So what do you see
When you turn to look in my direction?
When I stare into adversity
When you think about death?Do you think about me?
My smiling face?My laughter and glee?
Feel what you see
The pain is not mine
It isn't yours
Who does it belong to
If not you or me?
It's better than pity
That lacks kindness and charity
The sharp and the stabbingLike the shards of a broken bottleAnd its gleaming smoothnessLike the beads of a necklaceThey cut my stomach liningLuminescent- like stolen stars
Oh my dear, I can hardly wait.Soon we two shall dance with the teasing belladonna hoping to ensnare us bothYou have been too long without a partner, but you have been beautiful
Another pass over the bigger city to the south makes me wonder about all the absence in the night; the pitch-blackest part that the eye can’t see.
I've seen without eyes goals to be realized,
but I have no hands; so I'll never feel it.
Having said that, I've felt more and touched more without fingers. Without pores
