This is for the poet
the sunshine woke up today
for the poet who loves
reading two books in a day
for the poet who should
be followed, come what may

for the poet who could
see me in the dark

This is for the poet
who dreams of a quiet place
for the poet who searches
eternally for infinite solace
for the poet who looks
for a soul and stays

for the poet who could
be with me in the dark

This for the poet
who can't be beaten down
for the poet undaunted
by the laws of the crowd
for the poet who sees
through all the thick clouds

for the poet who could
save me from the dark

This is for the poet
the moon will sing goodnight
for the poet who saves
her last breath for the stars
for the poet my heart
belongs to from the start

for the poet who could
love me in the dark

The mirror haunts my very soul
Fallowing my eyes as it goes
I look and stumble into hate
But what blindness can be compared to fate
Whoever has come to hate
The grotesque image that they seek
I for one am afraid to peak
Yes the mirror haunts my very soul
And none can offer any sweet console

It all came to halt...

The battle cries;
The swinging swords;
Cleaving halberds;
Even death's opening doors.

It all came to a complete stop.

Enemies from both sides, frozen in time.
All looking towards him.
The man shining brightest with hate and honor.
No, not the hero.
Instead the mighty warrior,
With an ode to a king to claim the sacred lands.

Arrows arching, painting the sky black.
Red rivers running, beneath the bodies of the fallen.
Burning; burning; burning smoke, filling the air.
The smell of death hanging near.

He changed that day.
The day he turned on his rage.

Legend insists to say.
He was the reason they won the war that day.

Okay.
Sure.
Play victim.
Play with drugs, cigarettes and alcohol before you can even legally drive.
Play with knives and fire.
Play with all those things you swore you never would.
Play with the bad kids.
Play unloved.
Play overdramatic.
Play this game you love so well.

...because no matter how good you are at it sooner or later you are going to lose.

I can't wait, I hope I'm there when you do.
Because you wrecked me.
And I am STILL healing.
The scars on my wrists
are all your fault
the reason I sometimes can't eat more
than a yogurt and half an orange for lunch
is because of YOU
the reason I hate myself
the reason my mother can't trust me around blades anymore
the reason my mother cried for so many nights
because you broke her
you broke me
you SHATTERED my friends
and loved ones
you triggered her
you led to her eating problems
you contributed to the slits on her arms
the scars are STILL THERE
you made us genuinely want to **** ourselves
and HER
the one who was so strong she never drew blood
you even drove her to trying to with a pushpin
a f!cking pushpin
thanks to you!
we used car keys when we got desperate
scissor blades
safety pins
needles
construction paper edges
nailclippers
the ends of wires
circle makers
the backings of earrings
so many more things
sitting alone
you turned everyone against us
everyone
all of our friends
the whole school
our families
EVERYONE
you wrecked EVERYTHING
you killed us.
made us want to **** ourselves
now I just want to **** YOU

so go ahead
PLAY.

You know what?

I genuinely believe that I am unlovable.

Not even in the self-pitying way, I just have thought about it and I really think that no one could ever truly love me.

I have too many flaws that get in the way.

If I am imperfect then I can't be perfect enough for them

If I am perfect then I am not the quirky beautifully rare girl they want

I am too violent and weird

I am too hateful and grudging

And the worst part is

I don't even WANT to stop being violent and weird or hateful or grudging

I wish someone would love me for it

because I love those who are deadly loyal, absurd, not afraid of a little violence (not abusive, just to be clear. I do not support that) those who hate things because the more passionately they hate, the more passionately they love as well. And someone who holds a grudge actually cares about things. I would love a boy who was all those things but no guy wants a girl who can't let go of things and spends all her time muttering to herself about how worthless and ugly she is because that has become my hobby I don't even realize I am doing it sometimes.

I just don't think anyone could ever really truly fall in love with me.

That makes me kind of sad I guess... :(

"No." I beg of you.  For I've already sinned by far too much. Merely looking at you, touching your skin with only my eyes. Your face behind my closed lashes, trying to engrave your memory. Every freckle, every blemish, creases, lines or scars. I've sinned by far. My thoughts of you, circling within my brain, are not of innocent notions but powerful in our intimate devotions.

Please I beg of you... Take me backwards in slow motion. So, I might get to relive the moments. This time without emotion. To rewrite the blight upon our plight into our new separate life's...  

I beg, no more.

I sat

in the dark.

Into the corner,

cowered.

Shaken, trembled.

Tears danced and slid,

into the creases of my face.

The tears had that salty aroma and tang,

that reminded me when you squeezed lemon slices

in my eyes and poured salt over the pus.

I didn’t mind then and I still don’t.

My eyes weren’t as red then.

I wasn't alone then.

If I could watch you, indiscreetly
I'd find the truth in our facade
The loop hole in your portrayal of perfection
That you  so effortlessly masque
I remain on edge, my heart on guard
Because I know you only allow me to see one piece
Of the anomaly of thee
And for me it would only seal the deal if
I could be a wallflower, to find if you were real