People stopped asking me how I feel, simply because I think that they already knew the answer and they didn’t want to bother with repetition. I turned into a page in a book. Only looked at when needed, only read when I’m wanted. Then I’m put back on the shelf. I feel like people forget about me. That I sort of just fade into the background, because I’m just always there. I am the fly on the wall. Swatted away, and forgotten. There is no real dedication to my existence. Just moments of clarity, and then they go blind again. No matter what it is I am I feel like people stopped caring about me. Maybe it is in a selfish way or maybe it is because I became good at hiding my feelings. I feel like the stars in the night sky. Millions and millions of light years away, and I disappear before anyone acknowledges me.
A horseshoe made of iron Strikes against the ground As the horse carries his rider To the place which he is bound
The riders horse is quick Traveling under a midnight sky Gliding silently through the night As lightly as a butterfly
The horses stride is long And like a musket ball in flight He moves about unheard Unseen within the night
At last the morning comes But no rider no horse no sound Yet there upon the trail A horseshoe print is found
RLB
This poem was written as a small token of remembrance of all the couriers of the Civil War who carried important orders and messages through enemy territory ,but more so for the brave horses upon which they rode. I have to wonder how many horses carried their riders unseen and unheard through enemy lines to deliver an important message or order.
I thought that maybe I'd have something to write about now but I guess not because here I am with black eyeliner and hickeys that look like snakebites still wondering what to say
*******, You and your lies, *******, You and your friends, *******, You and your mean ways, *******, You and you harsh ways, *******, You and what you did, *******, Did I ever? Ever tell you? Two words, Two words from the bottom of my empty soul? *******
I see so much pain. So much hurt and depression. Talk of suicide and self injury. I know nothing that anyone says will help the hurt. So I encourage everyone who knows someone like this, To just listen. Don't try giving advice, It doesn't help. Don't tell us stories of yourself in a similar situation, We are different. We just want someone to listen to us and be there for us.
And for everyone who feels worthless and ready to die, Hang in there. You are loved. More people than you could imagine care about you. I know it won't be easy at all, But try. Even if you only find one reason to live and a million to die, Fight for that one reason.
Twist with your wrist The dagger into me Red pours out Looks like I can still bleed You smile, I laugh The pain sets me free
Was going to be longer, but I'm lazier than usual lately, sorry -- not sorry. - - - Have I ever told you guys how much I love toast? 'Cause, like, I really dig toast, ya know?