Maybe I Just Get In Everyone's WayFeels like no one can handle me anymore.
I feel like being locked away.
Hidden from everyone's sight.
I'm just the obstacle the stands in the way of others.
Maybe I just get in everyone's way...
I make others miserable when I do not realize it.
I feel down without even knowing why.
I feel like I have no purpose.
So why I wonder...
Why do I even bother...
Jump Off A CliffIt seems like no one really cares nor gives a shit about what I say so what if I say that I feel like jumping off a cliff. Then what? No one says anything. I am the invisible person that no one sees or hears.
FallingFalling through the ice.
Drifting in the cold.
Looking up with hopeful eyes.
At the distant light.
No one comes.
No one hears me.
Close my eyes.
Imagine the peace I never had.
Forget about it all.
Just fall to the floor of the lake.
No one will find me.
No one will ever hear me.
No one will remember me...
I am finally free of it all...
MusicI like the way listening to music makes me feel.
I feel free from all the worry and pain...
At least for a short little while I feel liberated...
MindMy mind is a scary place to try to delve deep in.
Once inside, you will not understand it.
Now will you comprehend me or who I am.
You will more than likely feel miserable everyday...
As I do...wishing I was gone...
This is how it is to live in my shoes.
Be With You...If I continue to dream.
Maybe I will finally be at the place that I always imagined.
Would You Remember Me?Would I be remember if I were to die?
Think about it...
Who would remember me?
My family of course but who else.
There are billions of people in this world so clearly I am going to be forgotten if I were to die.
DiscretionIf I drown my head into the depths of the seas...
Maybe then no one will see my tears.
No one must see my tears...no one...
I am not one to just give away my emotions to the world...
I must ban myself with discretion.
I am forbidden to express pain at all costs.
UntitledGlide through the heavens
in hopes to evade
the crimson wings
that holds you down.
When will you shut the pearly gates
and walk away?
When will you cut the crying chains
that paint you grey?
είναι μια σιωπηλή διαδικασία αλλαγής
που αντιλαμβανόμαστε εκ του αποτελέσματος.
Δεν Μπορεί Να Είναι Ο Στόχος.
Five Reasons to Not Write PoetryI.
Sooner or later,
It'll mess with your head;
You'll be taking a shower, or
Lying in bed
When the "inspiration"
Hits you hard
And when you miss the bus and first hour
You have to use the
"I over-slept" card.
It'll have you thinking
At every point of the day;
Twisting words and making rhymes
Prodding until the language sways
To your fingertips
Lower case letters nip
In hopes that you'll use them
Abuse them until you are at
They will mock you until
You simply can't think;
The words swirling around,
They will push you to the brink
Of complete denial,
Of absolute insanity;
"Yes, I ate enough" and "Yes, I
Feel fine" are the words you
Have to beat.
You will not care how people
React to what you say;
What do they know of
What we do everyday?
You think that to yourself,
As a way to not seek help
In the comfort of real
Love and not the fake kind
You write of.
You will lie and you will
Cheat and scoff and say
For all your most
Important words are
What Rape Can't Tell YouHe parrots the word, over and over until it sticks
Like the bruises on schoolchildren's hands, when they realize purple hurts more than red
While others mourn the translation lost in between
The definition he wrote
And what they want to scream to the world.
All you know is a word,
The hell hidden beneath it is nothing
But the trace of a memory that doesn't belong
To you, and you're so glad it isn't yours
Because then that pain can just be a word,
A beautiful illusion of pretend-this-doesn't-happen and
You deserve prettier words, better words, you think
Ones that stay silent, can be hidden across a page
Victimless and longer than the four letters they warn you about
You don't know how that word is strung
Or why they tie chords around their wrists
In protest, why the memories they drag are drugged and
Filthy with the crimes that can't be forgiven
You don't know how that syllable can hurt,
What it can do
You don't see the gashes in their organs
Or the fissures tha
Forever and ever
A piece of my past
Both a pride
And a shame
Of all these moments
When the blade did
What it does best
EmbersHer hair was orange
and glowed in the fire
turning black and ash
not a single moment later
the scissors were cold
The embers were
glowing just the same
hungry for her tresses
the royal red burned
yet no burn was left
Her hair was short
uneven with amber roots
outgrowing the dye
showing her natural shade
mom and dad took the scissors away
Orange locks tickle her neck
fire cannot fight fire
mom and dad breathe easier
she does not touch the scissors
though she always looks
She is eighteen
leaving home is a blessing
her hair bundled in a hat
she does not like to see it
the brightness keeps her up at night
The hairdresser mourns her hair
more than she ever does
as it falls limply to the ground
the locks have lost their hue
she smiles as they fall
It is easier to tell people she is happy
now her hair is gone
orange roots don't show on a shaved head
she stands proudly now
she doesn't keep scis
speaking in daggersspeaking in highways,
steel lines, edges of megathrust magnets
thrown off their orbit; your glorious pain
is impersonal here -
the ghost touch of glass panes versus
skyscrapers' nuzzling during a
quake; no more quakes, no more oceans,
the crackling scares
a sparrow out of the bushes.
the hunter producing a bird
the overflowing light dissecting reeds
all the possible trajectories of a gunshot.
happiness is the khaki overgrowth
this is the amazon blooming,
its thorns devour and choke
the struggle out of you; i am a voice lost in the trees
we'll never meet
you'll never cut through here