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SuicideWater, so dark and deep
Pills we use for sleep
Fire, so burning and full of life
Or maybe a sharp metal knife
A gun, so deadly and beautiful
Alcohol makes you feel so dull
Love I can't feel
None of my feelings are real
I have become a shell of my former me
Blinded by darkness, I can't see
I have lost my life's spark,
I am swallowed by the dark
From my problems, I can't hide
So why not commit suicide?
But one question remain,
That I can't get out of my brain:
If I took a knife and split my head,
Would anyone weep for me when I am dead?
Hidden TruthCome, little child
take a look at the world
Can you see
what it really is like?
Can you taste
the beauty of nature?
Can you breathe
the colour of the sky?
No, you can't
And I will tell you why
The colour was taken away,
stolen by hatred
The beauty was destroyed,
vanished by greed
The truth is hidden
for your mind
Feel the darkness,
Feel the pain,
Feel the raping
of all that was life
hush, little child,
wipe those tears away
The world won't heal
just because you cry:
is already dead
Four Seasons of Death: Autumn A sudden burst of cold autumn rain overwhelms him as he's walking down the street. It chills him to the bone and makes his body trembling pray for mercy, but he doesn't feel the freezing kisses of rainwater, not even the slightest chill down his spine.
He knows his body desperately begs him to turn around and run home, but he mechanically walks further. An obstinate will keeps him walking even though he is soaking wet.
The faint glow from the streetlights makes the wet asphalt sparkle like the skin of a grey snake, slithering through a labyrinth of silent concrete giants with thousands of blind eyes.
He's walking almost alone, only the rain is keeping him company while the city sleeps. A thorn of sadness stabs his heart as he realizes that he could never have fit in this world. He's like the one jigsaw you don't know where to put in an almost complete puzzle, a black stain on a white suite, the darkness that devast
Four Seasons of Death: Summer She always knew she would die a warm summer's day; the only thing she didn't know was how death would come to her.
Until one day.
The end of a long and warm summer is drawing near. The nature was buzzing of life and everything seemes to have a pleasantly sweet smell. The nights were lukewarm with a sun that never really disappeared in the distant horizon; it just balanced there, on the verge to night.
She often goes for walks in the forest so she can inhale every inch of summer beauty the trees and flowers allow her to take part of. Birds are singing in the green ocean of tree tops and bright rays of sunlight steal their way through small gaps among the leaves, making her path full of glowing dots.
She's walking on sunshine.
Her heart is excited, but she walks slowly. Every step must be correct; everything must be perfect this day. She doesn't know why that is, nor why she feels
FallenI was flying,
high among the clouds
when I was shot down
and fell into the depths
of my soul
in my abyss of darkness,
my wings aren't for flying,
they hold me trapped here,
bringing back memories
of a world
that I'll never see again
As I gaze up
at the streaks of light
high above me,
I see them;
I see their smiles;
I see their eyes
glimmering in the dark,
but they won't save me,
because they don't care.
They are too filled
with arrogance and greed
to care about anyone
They leave me here,
glaring at me
the monster in the abyss
but their smiles linger,
keeping me company
in my eternal solitude
My wings are heavy,
pulling me down
and stopping me
from flying away
high into the blissful sky
I have to stay,
here in the abyss,
with all the fake smiles
from a world
that doesn't care
Silly Little SallySilly little Sally was a happy child
she played all day and laughed so wild
Life was just a game and she the queen:
misery and suffering, she had never seen
But we must all grow up, and Sally as well
so even she had to open her eyes and realize:
the world is hell
Silly little Sally played with a knife,
Silly little Sally didn't want her life
The world was far too much for her to bear
she would die by her own hand, she could swear
But dying is so hard when you're alone
she wanted someone with her when she would fall
from her golden throne
Silly little Sally bought herself a shotgun
and jollily laughed, 'cause this would be fun
She skipped, merrily singing, down the street
and made everyone fall dead by her feet
Silly little Sally reloaded and shot them all down
their bodies became a landscape; their intestines
her bloodstained crown
Silly little Sally, no one could her blame
it wasn't she, but the world that had gone insane
She was the flawless queen of all mankind
her divine majesty to
Stenciled Smiles on Paper HeartsI don't like to feel this way
There must be something I can say
Cause I hate just watching you
When I know the pain you're going through
You're not alone; I've been where you are
Contemplating where I'll place my next scar
Hiding razor kisses underneath long sleeves
It doesn't make it better; nothing is achieved
All you'll earn are the scars you've got and
The lesson learned is the lesson forgotten
You feel like no one's there, no one cares what you do
Let me put it to you straight: That is never true
I was shunned, pushed away many times before
Then I realized it was I who had closed the door
I took a chance and opened up to the people around me
Told them of my secrets, now their love surrounds me
You're not alone; I've been where you are
And I know that life sometimes seems so hard…
But believe me, from one person to another
To make a book better, you never destroy the cover…
You are worth it...
Abidethi will not write you
into a seraph,
nor mend your
nor nurse your
raw pock-pitted tongue
do not wear your
on your wrists
have never been
one of the damned
MasksEveryone wears a mask
Whether it be of smiling or pain
Hate or Love
Shame or pride
Ego or Anger
Everyone wears a mask
It cracks sometimes
People can see through the chipped paint
See past the fake
See past the facade
We all wear masks
Ones of animals
Ones of other people
Ones that we would like to be
Ones that we hate
We all have a mask
Something we can hide behind
Something we can use to fight
Something that keeps us safe
Keeps us okay in the beginning
Keep our secrets
Hold our treasures in locked vaults
Keep our hearts from breaking
Keep the tears from showing
We all have masks
You can paint them up
It can be anything
Because no one can see past the mask
No one knows what anyone's face really looks like
Humanity is made of Masks
What is yours painted of?
Consequences“Oncie, my darling boy, this is incredible! You’ve made your mama proud.”
“Although personally I thought that the celebration today was a little underwhelming, didn’t you? I mean, all they could spare for a performance was the city marching band? Someone as important as you should at least get someone famous to perform for him!”
“I didn’t think it was that bad…”
“No, of course you wouldn’t. After all, just a little while ago you were the one who was standing up in the center of town and trying to promote Thneeds by playing your silly guitar! But you’ve got to get used to being classier now. At this rate, you’re sure to be the top dog soon, and you need tastes to match.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You’re on your way, sweetie. Just remember, things can only get better from here!”
The Once-ler wasn’t s
Those DaysDo you ever have those days you wish you never woke up?
Do you ever have those days you wish you would have spoken up?
Do you ever have those days you wish you were never alive?
Do you ever have those days you wish you would die?
The days the madness takes over your mind
It's merciless clutches so unkind
The days you feel exposed and open
Your secrets known without being spoken
The days you feel desperate, broken, and lonely
The unwanted tears making it difficult to see
The days you just pray you forget
Because of all the mistakes you regret
The days the world turns against you just for fun
Pushing you to the edge until you're done
Until you're sick and tired of the lies and games, confusion and heartbreak
Until you're so aggravated you start to uncontrollably shake
Until you snap back, hungry for revenge; desperate for closure
Until you can't take the weight of the world on your shoulder
The days you break, screaming and crying
The days you fake a smile while inside you're dying
You Made Me Hate Myself,1.
I always thought of you as my sort of homeostasis. And maybe you didn’t always keep me upright, but when I was going down you were the one that pushed your hands upon my breastbone and forced me to go up, because sinking is not the way to get things done.
My equilibrium has never been the greatest, and neither has yours, but you taught me that things will only balance out if you make them.
Sitting in your room, crying in the middle of your floor is not the right way to make things happen. Never have weak moments. Never feel pity for yourself, because you don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself. Don’t you ever think that you have it bad because being a teenager is nothing t
all we ever wanted was the world.it still feels like summer.
tastes like late nights and cigarettes,
sliding through the back door,
still damp with the could-have-beens,
our past lovers
tugging at our lips.
we sit in downpour
and watch the trains roll past,
spilling from our mouths
while we talk about
how we could get on one of those trains
and just get off
at the last stop.
"and we'd never come home."
Not OkayI will lie
Even as you look me in the eye
I will say
And take these feelings of mine
And bury them so deep inside
No one will know where they hide.
I can't go on.
It's not normal,
How could it be?
To think of death,
As the only way to be free.
I'm so trapped,
This life is closing down,
The walls fall around me,
As im deafened by the sound,
The sound that punches,
From inside my chest,
The pain has found a voice,
A sound that could deafen,
The entire planet,
It screams of all the times,
I hurt so much,
Nothing could repair me,
At the every tear that slowly destroyed me,
How can no one see this!!
How can no one realise,
I'm really not dealing with this life,
My only consciousness,
Is brought about by a knife.
Please kill me,
Please make me someone new,
At least destroy the memories,
Of the nightmares ive been through.
I cant pretend much longer,
Things are not ok,
I cannot live,
There's not much more of me to give,
So maybe its time,
I gave this life away.
I wish that I could be,
So much more than what I am,
I try to improve this tattered shell,
I just keep hoping that I can.
The hope is wearing thin now,
Read Between the LinesI am the nightmares
you dream at night
I am the terror
and all the fright
I am the voice
that makes you feel insane
I am the cold,
I am the whisper
only you can hear,
I am the misery
you'll have to bear
I am the shadow
in the corner of your eyes
I am the hidden truth
in all of your lies
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
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