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LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
Done with this sad world,
If you need me I'm in hell,
Still better than here.
Not even sorry with these poems. I need to vent. I need to bleed my thoughts into poetry otherwise that's it. Gone too long bottling it all up again.
LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
I have tried so hard to stay afloat,
But right now I could easily cave in
And let the waves push me down,
Let the current pull me to the bottom
Of the ocean and leave me there to die.

I am trying to keep myself alive to help
The ones I love the most from dying,
I can't bear the thought of losing them,
But in the process I am losing myself
Because I feel helpless and useless.
I fear that I can't do enough because I'm not strong
Enough to fight for them.
I feel like I have let everybody down.
But I'm not giving up yet.
LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
I know you'll survive,
I know you can still hold on,
Please don't give up yet
LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
I feel them,
Creeping beneath my skin,
Breaking down my resistance.
I am trying to pull away
But they are clawing me back,
Dragging me back to the top drawer
Where the skeletons encased in a little white box are waiting.

It seems to be a repetitive process,
No, a ritual
"I've been clean for four weeks, I can do this"
"I can't do this anymore. I can't cope."
"No, I've come this far, I can't give up now."
"**** it all."

It is a drug,
Injected into my veins and swirling around my brain,
Metallic nicotine

The worst part is, is that I have these urges because I can't even bare the smallest thought of sadness.
I can't even go through five minutes of brief heartache without wanting to throw it all away.
I don't even have a reason to feel this low,
I am weak and selfish.
LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
I bleed a thousand colours,
  I have a technicolour heart,
   And my dreams are far from black and white.
    The universe is painted with a million possibilities,
     We all live an esoteric existence,
      Our imagination isn't tangible,
        But we can live it through art.
         This is the start of a pop art generation,
          I am Warholian.
LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
Verse One
Looking back on the days of my youth,
Reckless and young, and life was fool proof,
I sit there and smile as I look at the past,
Then my heart starts to melt because I want it to last,
The parties all night and staying in bed all day,
Oh how I wish those times never ran away.

Chorus
Those were the days,
Those were the times I loved,
Photographs and distant laughs,
Innocent fools and breaking rules,
These were the years that time forgot,
Yeah those were the days.

Verse Two
Nostalgia is catching like a fire,
But now this feeling is about to expire,
But photos they hold all the stories we told,
The truth, the dares, how we broke the mould,
Clothes stained with dirt and our minds weren’t so clean,
I crave for the years of how it should still be.

Chorus
Those were the days,
Those were the times I loved,
Photographs and distant laughs,
Innocent fools and breaking rules,
These were the years that time forgot,
Yeah those were the days.

Bridge
I’m still a child at heart,
I want this life to slow down,
Rewind the clock and restart,
Instead of this chaos that I live in now.

Chorus x 2**
Those were the days,
Those were the times I loved,
Photographs and distant laughs,
Innocent fools and breaking rules,
These were the years that time forgot,
Yeah those were the days.
Some lyrics that I wrote for a Little Monster. Would love to get back into songwriting again, and I felt so happy when he asked me to write some for him for his demo CD.
LJ Chaplin Sep 2013
I have to run faster now,
I have to leave this town,
Change my name,
Change my face,
**** my identity and leave no trace,
The monster you made is creeping in the dark,
Yearning for the taste of a beating heart,
The bitter scent of soiled blood,
Alcohol and cigarettes,
Another fish caught in the net.

This kid is far from a ***** hot mess,
When he's unable to hide the stress,
To hold down tears that smell like Jack,
Barely able to keep himself back,
From the edge of his so called sanity,
Fractured by the pressure of male vanity.

This MANnequin is just a boy,
18 years and feels destroyed,
Metal pecs and washboard abs,
A dream of his while he covers the 'flab',
Betrayed by friends who style their hair
While he keeps on running so they don't stare
At the failure of physical attraction,
Repulsed by the existence of his own reflection,
Another flaw on a social scale,
**A grizzly end to this unwanted tale.
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