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How Do I Say This?"How Do I Say This"
I'm not sure how I should tell you this.
I thought it would've hit me by now.
Perhaps I can write you a poem?
No, I'm no good at that.
Maybe I should play you a song...
That won't do,
I'm tone deaf.
A boombox outside your...
No, this is the twenty-first century,
Plus that's tacky.
I guess there's no other way to tell you
I love you
Lonely Hero"Lonely Hero"
There is no need for you to fear,
Nothing to fear while I am here.
I will keep you safe my dear.
Under my wings,
There is nothing that can harm you.
Don't worry my dear.
I'm here now.
I'll be your hero.
There is no need to fear the gun shots of war,
Nor the monsters that haunt your dreams,
For I will always be here.
And for anyone who comes my way.
Rest your head now my dear,
Let your eyes rest,
For I am here,
To protect you,
Until my job is done.
And I will be,
I will always be there,
No matter the sacrifice,
No matter the pain.
I will be there.
For you and the others,
I will guard you,
Out of the darkness,
That plauges your soul.
I will be your hero,
With nothing in return.
And one day,
You will leave.
No longer in need of a hero.
And here I will stay,
With nobody by my side.
Keep walking on.
Strong and safe.
And I will stay here.
Ready for whenever you may need me.
I shall be your hero,
Hiding in the shadows,
I will stand s
What did I do?"What Did I Do"
What have I ever done,
To make you have so little faith in me?
Perfection slipped out of my grasp,
But I try so hard,
To make you happy.
I spend my days reading,
Sitting by myself,
In the large quiet room.
Doing nothing wrong,
All by lonesome.
But still you accuse me.
Last time is was smoking.
No, the smell makes me sick.
It's disgusting, as you have always taught me.
But guess what?
I found a pack in your bag today.
The betrayal is infuriated.
I'm the mistake,
For doing nothing wrong.
I'm the screw up.
I'm the one to be pierced into,
With those hateful eyes.
Blame me all you want,
For crimes I didn't commit,
While you sit and hide,
Sit and hide.
I'm done with you.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Where's my Wonderland?"Where's My Wonderland"
I followed the white rabbit,
He was running late.
I followed him, through the rotting garden,
Until he led me to a hole,
Beneath the hollow tree.
Down the hole he went,
And I followed.
Down the rabbit hole I fell.
Down I fell,
Through the grief,
I fell down past the swirling darkness,
The ticking clocks,
That mocked all my life decisions.
"Why did you do it?" they asked.
They played my memories over and over,
Inside their ticking cores.
I kept falling.
But when I hit the ground,
With an audible thud,
There was nothing.
No wonderland for me to discover.
No adventure for me to endure.
There was nothing,
But a black hole.
A black hole,
Where I will spend eternity.
What happened to the wonderland?
What happened to the land of rainbows and laughter?
Where is my happy ending?
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