Please

Please
don't go
don't leave me just yet.

Please
just stay
and hold me oh so tight.

Please
see here
i love you more than you know.

Please
listen
you don't know me at all.

Please
goodbye
it's time for us to part.

Please
leave me
or you'll just break my heart.

A little deeper

You never thought anyone would notice.
Hell, you never thought it mattered.

It started small,
(Doesn't everything?)
With an idle nick on the point where your wrist met your palm
Using a rusty penknife you found.
You never knew what you were getting into.

You searched it up, and realised that cutting on the wrists was too easy;
The internet said you were seeking attention,
And you weren't, goddammit.
Attention was never your goal.
This wasn't some weird cry for help.

You just wanted the hole in your gut to feel a little less empty.

It grew, though.
Like a monster it latched onto your heart and grew.
It fed on your hurt.

You found out why people, when they hide, preferred their thighs:
It hurt more, bled more.
After a while, you just started wearing knee height shorts at home.
No one ever questioned it. It was the beginning of the rainy and cool season.
Why would anyone question it?

Hell, for them to question it, they'd have to notice you were there first.

Some days, though, you wished you weren't.
It didn't seem worth it.
You trudged through your day and passed off everything as a bore.

And on those days, the blade dug a little deeper.

World of lies

Without sun and without love,
Smile and laugh, you precious dove.
But back home, you start to cry,
Welcome to my world of lies.

People shout and people scream,
Cover your ears, too much it seems,
You don't hear them, you deny,
Welcome to my world of lies.

In your head you're so scared,
You really are unprepared.
IV drips and bloodshot eyes,
Welcome to my world of lies.

See the razor, feel the pain,
Blood drips down and skin it stains.
Pull your sleeves and appear shy,
Welcome to my world of lies.

Slit your wrists and cut your thighs,
Fake a smile and dry your eyes.
Hate yourself and hate your life,
Welcome to my world of lies.

Sonnet 6

Acidic secrets melt through placid guts
and leave a hole, a pit, a missing piece
that only truth can find when it breaks free,
but truth, for now, is gone- and stomachs burn.
As flesh and bone alike are charred to ash,
and nothing can restore the gaping hole,
and I am left to clutch at my remains;
I know it's all my fault and I deserve
this horrid fate- pathetic, flailing limbs;
and pain that burns and freezes me at once;
and oh, the secrets tearing through my heart,
consuming all; and I am empty now.

If pain was all I had once, now I know
that hollow, emptiness is worse a fate.

---------

No rhymes this time, because, well, I don't know, I got sick of rhymes, and they're so difficult. I wrote this just before going to sleep last night, for no reason whatsoever. I think this is the first sonnet I've written that has nothing whatsoever to do with how I felt at the moment of writing it.

Old-Timers... Go Back to Blogland

[Sorry in advance. I know this isn't a poem, but I wanted to post it everywhere. :}]

Blogland needs you, my friends.
I miss you.
I miss ALL of the old-timers, and I would just.... LOVE to see you in Blogland again.

Besides, showing up and chatting like you own the place is exceedingly enjoyable :}

I know, I know, everyone is strange and new. I think every time I go to Blogland now-a-days I meet someone new, but hey, meeting someone new eliminates a strange new person to meet. Plus, if we all go back, even it's slowly, even it's once-a-month or less, we'll find each other.

Don't feel like it's useless. Even if you can only hang out for ten minutes, GO. Chat for ten minutes, then leave if you must. Don't disappear forever. Nothing is worth losing your friends because you're just so busy. If you try, I know you can make a little time. :D

Please come back. :]
I love you guys, and Dereksville Blogland desperately needs your crazy, brilliant, fun, adorable, creative awesome-sauce and epica spontaneity!

When you read this, post it on your own blogs [re-awaken the magic of them!] or email it to a friend from Blogland you haven't spoken with for who-knows-how-long.
Let's rekindle the old-timers.
Let's rekindle our own, special place again.
I miss it, and I desperately miss you.

~hugs a million times over~

I hope I see you soon!!!! :D

Poem of the Insane

I thought I would escape

Could escape from this madness

Its tendrils snaking inside my very mind

I thought, I think I thought, at least

And everything’s swirling away

And I’m lost again

There’s nothing quite like the dark

Where the monsters live

Reaching through you

It’s a bleak reality

When you think about it

For too long

The colours all around

Seeping into each other

An obscene spectrum

See the how blind

How detached they are

Let them destroy themselves

I can’t think

Now

My brain stutters

There is nothing

Any longer

But sleep

And the sorrows

Rising

Drowning in despair

And then joining the tide…

Growing up

When I was 6,
Growing up meant, well, nothing.
I was a kid and I knew no better than that.

When I was 8,
Growing up meant getting married.
My mother told me I wasn't a woman until I got married.

When I was 10,
Growing up meant physical changes.
We learnt about it in school, the boys had different classes.

When I was 12,
Growing up meant fending off my father.
The change had hardly begun, yet he made his advances.

When I was 14,
Growing up meant watching my heroes turn human.
I saw him break down and learnt the true meaning of emotions.

Now that I'm almost 16,
Growing up means survival.
Just the kiss of the blade to help me make it through the day.