Does he see your scars as battle wounds?
Does he understand the war being fought?
How your mind is fighting with itself
And both sides are losing.

Does he understand the days you get out of bed
Are battles won?
Does he know the nights you lie awake
Are battles lost?
How each day is a struggle to prepare your army?
And some days they just don't want to fight.

Does he tell you he'll fight the war with you?
Does he help heal the wounds?
When he holds you I hope it brings a white flag.
I hope his kisses are surrender.

When I look at him I wonder if he even knows he's addicted. Addicted to the way she laughs, and how the curves of her mouth turn up into a smile. If he knows he is drunk on the way that she sighs at the rain, or how she talks to the cat late at night. Does he know that she is what makes his reality worth it? And at the same time I wonder if she knows. If she knows that he the reason the blood races through her veins. If she knows that he is the reason that her lungs feel so full. That he is the dizzy lightheadedness, the weightless feeling within. Does she know that he is what creates her earth?

She kisses her scars
Amongst the dark of the night,
For the taste of blood,
Or the taste of self-love?

She drank the tears she cried,
For the drowning sensation,
Or the hope of a better fate?

While she lay empty on the grey-tiled floors that felt like the bottom of a *** bottle,
She only wonders,
Would this change anything?

How many more wounded soldiers before the battle is dead?
How many more tradgic memories need to be burned into innocent minds?

How many more terrible poems before I get a better grasp on humanity?

You know more about me
than any stranger should.
You know more about me
than any friend could.
It's not always easy
to post the things I write
Because they are more of myself,
that I don't like to share.
My poems are me and me alone.
I hope you like them,
but more, I hope you like me,
even if I'm a mess.

A sharp tongue can **** everyone who hears it

Remind the children
in books
in tales
in life
that monsters
are not always supernatural
do not always live under beds
or creep inside closets
in fact they can be amongst us
walking, breathing, existing humans

Only they are far more real

**Far more terrifying