

ColourblindNo sleep for the wicked.Colourblind
Just restless snatches of nothing,
spread within the timeslots, Of eleven til four. Hours of laying, staring at the ceiling.
Tracing the hair-line fractures
with forgotten words, And mumblings of somethings, That fall freely from my lips. The mirror lays waiting.
Black mascara smudges, from tired rubbings.
Wide, criticising eyes and a mouth
set in judgemental sin.
I could quite happily play ever-after. Untangle my hair, and dress in pearls. I'd be questionable, pleasant, sweet. No trace of the uneasy character, &nbs


I Remember.I wonder at what point the rain lost its magic for me. When the flowers on my windowsill wilted and died. When all the colour in the world became muted and dull. When I forgot the very reason, the very thing that made me me.I Remember.
Theres no beauty left in this. The barren landscape of a body; mottled with freckles, lacy scars and butterfly-like bruises. The mind that does not question, but does not do what it's told. The lullaby that plays, on repeat, for days.
And yet the sun still rises. A sheer blue backdrop awaits. The pitiful children with their significance imagined. Thinking the gods would make the sky cry jus


Breaking The Girl.Breaking the girl, With hearts and time. Broken fingers and Half cracked spine.Breaking The Girl.
Little lover, Are you alive? Still, barely breathing, Drowned by the dive.
Stand for me slowly, With your blackened eyes. Spare me your heart, To seperate your lies.
Hands on your body, Crushing bones in your chest. Broken little lover, Most silently blessed.


Bite My Tongue.Biting my tongue And biding my time. Ill wait for the moment, A more fitting rhyme.Bite My Tongue.
With blood in your mouth, Youre cursing the truth. Why spend these years, Damning your youth?
With my hand in your pocket, I know what youre thinking. You can tell by my eyes, Im too deep to start sinking.
Speaking old words, To give them new meaning. Does my face give away, That I feel like Im dreaming?
If you ask me the question, Know Ill admit defeat. That Im wishing to wake near yo


The AnswerYou consume me. Not because I love you, and not because you're special, you are, but that's not the reason. It's because I spend every single second, of every single day wondering what happened. Wondering what I did wrong, what I did to make you hate me so much.The Answer
It's like when you get an answer wrong on a test, one of the ten mark questions which sends your overall mark down below the depressing line of failure. But instead of getting an answer at the end of the wrong question, or comments to improve, there is nothing. No comments, no 'see me after class', no 'good luck next time'.


LifeYour life is a musical. In your head, everyone has grins plastered upon their faces, cheesy smiles that dont match the hollowness in their eyes. The cast wear colours, sequins and lycra, for show.Life
And the music swells, you all launch into an impulsive, impressive song and dance number, which has been secretly rehearsed for months, years.
My life is a poem. An endless poem, which uses an insurmountable amount of paper and ink. Like all poems, there is tragedy and times of bliss, of love, of hope and of pain and sorrow.
And my poem is undeniably beautiful. I would know, I am its poet. &n
--
Why try? Then again, why not try?
--
Why try? Then again, why not try?
:]
I wish I could write lyrics but I have enough trouble keeping a rhythm without that as an extra complication.
And poems are definitely one of the best ways to express how your feeling.
You should post soon
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