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DemonsI slit their skin, bleeding out,
pull their hair, scream and shout.
I try to swallow the bitter death,
to bring the end, to breathe last breath.
But despite all of the sorrowful crying,
my demons haven't even begun dying.
I punch and hit, trying to break,
create a release for my sanity's sake.
Screaming and raging, all alone,
I sink to the floor and begin to moan.
Now I would still just be lying
if I told you my demons were close to dying.
I crumple more, spirit crushing,
my soul destroyed and my pores bleeding.
My demons leak out, dripping red,
the colour spinning and whirling my head.
Now, at last my demons have are gone
but they've taken me with them...
So endeth my song.
The drops snake down my face and slither between my eyelashes, making light refract into my eyes and creating little rainbows only I can see. I grin to myself. I always say I see the world in a different way. This is proof! Everything I see is dyed in bright hues of multicoloured light, tainting all I see, changing the dull urban environment into fairy land.
The rainbows leave me. They don't belong. Not really. Shivering, I think how nothing colourful really should exist right now. I scowl at the autumn leaves which dare to exist, a shade of orange too cheerful to be just lying there on the street. I resume my running and let the redness consume me, let the red spots dance in front of my eyes. This world…
Monochrome. Greyness. Grey everywhere. On the streets, roads, cars...In my mind...
Tonight was brilliant. We laughed and sang and had such a good time, she tossed her hair as we pledged to remember this day. Her hair. Now that is one thing
Love HerLove a girl who writes;
go beneath the words you're seeing.
Pick apart the outer shell
and find her true inner being.
Kiss her ink-stained fingers
and gaze deep within her eyes,
ignore the characters she's created,
and just be mesmerized.
Love everything she's been,
who she was, is and will be,
fix the torn pages of her book and
heal the scars on her body.
Lastly, play your part as
the hero of her book.
Always be her savior and
always be her hook.
100 Reasons to Stay Alive1. A hug.
2. An “I love you”.
3. A funny tumblr post.
4. A message, “I miss you”.
5. A pat on the shoulder.
6. Walking past the compass and knowing I am clean.
7. The funny doodle I did during English.
8. A piece of music that reminds me of the fateful day last November.
9. Inside jokes.
10. Wrestling my friend until we are covered in bruises then laughing and hugging.
11. Eating lunch that is covered in sawdust.
12. Seeing the teacher give me the look then totally ignoring what I'm doing.
13. Playing the “bogies” game, but dirtier.
14. A quick snog between classes.
15. Stealing his glasses then seeing him moan.
16. Giving them back and him punching me playfully.
17. Seeing the picture we drew together before leaving.
18. Walking past the house and recalling everything all at once.
19. That feels moment when a ship becomes canon.
20. Dan and Phil.
21. The moment when both of us want something yet neither wants to initiate it and we look at each other
Welcome to High SchoolI couldn’t resist facepalming that day.
“I didn’t know dinosaurs were real!” the monkey exclaimed. “I always thought they were a myth!”
I sighed. If these things didn’t happen every day, I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t have bothered me so much. I calmly explained how they were, in fact, real and you can see their bones in museums all over the globe. Her eyes unclouded and she laughed, realising this new truth for the first time in her life. Glancing around, I saw her friends join her, all laughing in a collective, like dizzying hyenas, as I methodically packed my already over-stuffed rucksack with everything I needed to take away from my science lesson.
Alone, I slinked into the over-crowded corridor, being shoved this way and that by the gorillas going about their own way. They cackled and grunted as I elbowed my way through, not particularly caring where the blows landed. They’re impervious to me anyway.
ReturnShe peers anxiously around the corner, hoping she might be able to see the red light indicating the long awaited train’s arrival. Every few seconds, she is checking her watch, tapping her fingers, pacing along the platform. Tears meander down her face as she alternates between standing and sitting, peering and staring, crying and smiling.
This time, when she peers around, she freezes and I can taste the bittersweet odour of anticipation. Longing. Time.
Too much waiting.
She is bombarded by crowds of people and she fights through them all, trying to get up to the misty glass and see in. After a few moments the crowds disperse and she wilts. It seems the moment she was waiting for hasn't come.
Crumpling, she hits the floor with unwelcome force and the sounds of her melancholy sobs ring, echoing against the walls of the ancient station.
Then, as quickly as she started crying, she stops and a squeak is caught in the back of her throat. Stepping off the train is a young man, we
GehennaI recall the
I no longer
felt at peace
Such a subtle
I could see
I closed the
October 17th, 2010
If OnlyA young woman, too young to be exposed to the pain she had found so recently, sat at her Father's bedside. Inside her warm, soft hands, she held the calloused and motionless hands of the man she loved. The heart-monitor made a slow and steady rhythm; a sign of either hope or loss. She turned her head away from the closed eyes of her Father, and swept her eyes over the snow-covered trees outside the small window of the hospital room. She found herself praying, though she did not know to whom, that somehow this would not be the last image of her Father. Her mind fell prisoner to her memories, as she wished she could be as strong as he had always been for her.
The snow reminded her of their snowball fights in winter, how they planned childish assaults against each other and used the snow-covered hedges for defence. She felt herself giggle as she remembered catching him completely unaware with a huge snowball she had made. His laughter was always so hearty and pure, and that day had produc
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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