Dear MeDear Me, Right about now, you, my 13-year old self, is most likely sobbing in a corner at school. Again. Because the mean kids in class wouldn't stop bullying you again, because the mean kids won't accept you for who you are. Or maybe right now you are talking really bad behind a friends back so you can come across as "cool" and score some "cool-points" with the same mean kids that will bully you just the same tomorrow. I know it seems endless, and maybe it is. But I also know this; you will get through this. And you can get through this. Trust me, I know. The best thing you can do right now is to just stop sobbing, hold your head up high and face the world, even if that world doesn't want to face you. Don't go buying that dumb, expensive t-shirt that all the popular kids have, and most importantly: don't try to be something, or someone, you're not. Because I know now that you are not like them. You are not mean. You do not "hate" people
Let Golet go of all the times we smiledlet go of all the times we criedlet goof all the memorieswe created togetherand justmove ondisappear......and break my heart...
untitledFear the lust ofa passionate heartit might catch youand run with you,loveThe metal gentlykisses the skincovering her wristin bloodBlackin front of her eyesdeep into the nightshe will find her peacein death.
DearestThe big puffy clouds in a deep blue skywill always serve as a reminderA reminder of our days before the clouds found you.They found you and adopted you as one of their own...
A Touch of Madnessthey say a touch of madnessglimmers there behind her eyes, sparking storms that sing with light and haunting lullabiesThey say a touch of madness,is inside all of of usspeaking words we never would,waiting, at the windowsill. It glimmers there behind her eyes,waiting, longingfor the day of darkness,it finally gets to be free.Sparking storms that sing with light,rolling thunder and flashinglightning on the insideof her mind.Haunting lullabiesare softly singingthe never-spoken wordsof madnesslingering...
You were the sunSnow, white and pure, leading me closer to the fabric of my dreams. I was the moon, and you, you were the golden sun. Your voice is ripping through the silence of my days, lingering inside my own thoughts. Lingering, lingering, my dreams are nothing more than a speck of dust in my existence. Clouds are stuffed in my lungs making it harder and harder to breathe, but the little girl looking at the big red balloon is what keeps me ashore. Inside the balloon awaits her dream, a dream that once was mine to dream. Push me forward with my head through the clouds and help me fly, for I can not do it on my own. Help me fly so I can learn how to stand on my own feet and maybe, maybe I can stop tripping over the words I'll never speak. But don't hold me down under the water where I can not breath, don't hold me down for it puts my lungs on fire and brings my eyes to tears. Voices are calling me, silently, gently laying me to rest, paint
Every DayOh darling, just take it slow, for you know- the wind will always be there to move your hair.You came through my life like a hurricane in red- and even though I promised myself long ago not to write about you, I can’t help but be overwhelmed by memories of our days together, our days in the sun. I remember how we wished those days would never end, how we wished we’d be together forever. How we wished, oh, how we wished..You promised.You would never let me break, you would never leave me alone. You would always be here, with me. You promised… and you left.You left.You left me alone with all my fears, to battle them on my own and eventually- I gave up. I gave up, because I didn’t have you. I gave up, because you were gone. And no, I am not trying to make you feel guilty- I’m just telling you how I feel.Oh darling- it’s been so long since I’ve seen you and there are no words to describe how much I miss you. How much I miss our
It's okaylie to meand tell me i'm wrongtell me i'm wrong to get into the watergleaming eyesare fixed upon their reflectionslie to meand tell me it's not worth ittell mei can do better than thislie to meand tell me it's okayto be brokentell me the boneswill healone daylie to meand tell methat i am not fallinglike a shooting starin the night skylie to meand tell methat you will catch mebefore i hit the ground
and he called mehe spied on my dreamsand he called mehis ghost.he called memadness.images begin to oozelike confessionsto claim remembrancewhen they show their scars.in the middle of a timelessworld withunaffecting daysof a long lost past.and he called mehis ghost.
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