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Literature Text
At 12, she wasn't a virgin.
She didn't like to talk about it.
She was a wild lullaby, stifling
screams into her feathered pillows.
At 13, she wasn't a dreamer.
She cast glares at her peers,
wandering the halls digging
her long tiger-nails into her palms.
At 14, she wasn't a dizzy-romance
she hid herself in naked boys' chests
and let them swallow her sighs.
She wrote them hate letters after they came
inside her.
At 15, she wasn't a zombie
but she wasn't quite alive either.
She drew patterns in her limbs with
scissors, and waved away her parents concern.
Her best friend was a star in a film
made in 1969.
At 16, she was a pile of bones,
she took her last breath on a saturday
& she never closed her eyes.
She didn't like to talk about it.
She was a wild lullaby, stifling
screams into her feathered pillows.
At 13, she wasn't a dreamer.
She cast glares at her peers,
wandering the halls digging
her long tiger-nails into her palms.
At 14, she wasn't a dizzy-romance
she hid herself in naked boys' chests
and let them swallow her sighs.
She wrote them hate letters after they came
inside her.
At 15, she wasn't a zombie
but she wasn't quite alive either.
She drew patterns in her limbs with
scissors, and waved away her parents concern.
Her best friend was a star in a film
made in 1969.
At 16, she was a pile of bones,
she took her last breath on a saturday
& she never closed her eyes.
Self realization
My self realization and the need to dig deeper in understanding the dark parts of myself led me to writing poetry and lyrics for my music. It made me able to Consciously see these behaviors. I'd write out these parts of myself in a way that seemed fucked up and in need of change. If anybody relates and needs help with the same, I'm providing a subscription to my self healing writings. Thank you everyone. New content will be added consistently.
$20/month
Literature
If I Had A Voice
If i had a voice i would scream
I would let the sound echo off the mountains
And swim beneath the sea...
A scream, blacked out, and silenced...
For far to long.
If i had a voice i would sing,
Haunting notes, with church like acoustics
Floating on the wind to be carried far and near...
A catching melody bellied on your breath,
So that you might choose to sing along.
If i had a voice i would laugh,
Childlike laughter to carry us through,
Pained and Amused.
The laughter turned to song.
If i had a voice i would whisper,
Hot air forming on wind,
The element of secret truths,
Writhing at the bend
If i had a voice i would cry,
Cho
Literature
Skeleton
I knew a pretty girl
Who couldn’t see her own face,
the magnitude of her grace,
or, perhaps she didn’t want to,
But the boys did.
I knew a pretty girl
Who had a mirror that lied.
It choked and it spat out
just what she despised:
The noise.
The screech.
The howl
of intolerable imperfection.
Not worthy of love,
She had no face.
The boys saw that, too.
The emptiness of her eyes
simply reflected the lips that
grasped her neck.
The anonymous hands
at her hips
Drove her train of thought to a wreck.
Derailed.
I knew a pretty girl
Who drank poison
Literature
Death In Small Doses
You think it feels good
You think it feels nice
To pick up a razor
And give your arm a slice
The first time's o.k.
The second time's great
The third's even better
But the fourth can not wait
You think every thing's fine
So you start taking some chances
You start cutting new places
And begin receiving strange glances
"What could go wrong?"
"Nothing, who cares?"
But you keep getting weaker
And continue getting stares
You're feeling depressed
And you aren't sure why
You weren't when you started
But now you break down and cry
You know something's wrong
But you just can't stop
What started as a few
Has progressed into a lot
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Because deep down inside, mankind is a monster...