transparencyLow rumblesBehind my eyes- lids fluttering,Vibrating me;I go to sleep.
LostStarlit galaxiesDrift about in your black hole eyes,
RupturePuddles of incantations-Breathes grabbed from the air &Shoved back into gaping mouths-Words falling out of a trembling pair of lips& limits are formed, from the soulsDesperate desire to survive.
the end of another nightI want to sit in the woodsAs the sun rises-I want to feel the sky wake up.
farewellThe way I’m acting,You’d think someone had diedI felt some part of you die when you told me you had to go;&& in that instance part of me died too.
a world awaySorrow is a lovelyCompanyShe doesn't ask whyShe just holds me as i cry
Begin AgainTake a gulp-Inhale bubbles left from her last breath,Don’t allow her expiration go to waste.
ii.Specific information is gatheredEven as my eyes dart rapidly beneath my eyelids.
i.There are precise calculations inEvery fiber of my chaotic existence.
Purple~Specks of grace Intermingle with violet,Painting an accurate pictureOf your alluring spirit.
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondlyof passions and talents,of guitars and stars,with such breathless intensitythen stops short andapologisesfor speaking at all.All because somewhere in her life,someone she loved broke her heartby ignoringher beautiful wordsand telling her toshut up,keep it down,nobody cares.People aren’t born sad.We make them that way.
How To Fit InHow to Fit InLet’s start off with your appearance.Because you need a disguise to hideInside of a crowd.Strip yourself of all of the clothing you use to express yourself.So you can get lost,And never be found.Fix your hair,Cake on some make upBecause in a crowd.Looks will always speak louder than words.People don’t want to hear what you have to say,They just want to see a pretty face.Fix your eyes that are too big.Too innocent.You have too many ideas.They rage around inside your head,Like birds trying to escape a cage.Free them.But never write those ideas down on a page.Because thinking,Is a sin.When you’re trying to fit in.Just let them fly away.Never to be seen again.Now that you’re vapid,Dull as a rock.Not an original thought to be seen.Yes, you’ve achieved‘Fitting in’But was it actually worth it?Trading in everything that makes you so spectacular.To fit in with the rest of the main stream crowd.Stop trying to
It Was Never You...It really wasn't...And I know that I can twist this truth as much as I want...Whenever I'm sober, when I know I can put up that fake plastic smile;Just a few formal words that burn like acid from a liar's lips!"Differences in personality, a divergence in ideals..."Please, fucking, SPARE ME!Because when I look in this mirror, I know.When I see myself looking back at me, I know.Right here, right in front of my own blackened self;Those eyes that both reflect and stare into my dingy soul.I was the problem.I was the instigator.I was the perpetrator.And when I had broken every last bit of her,I was the one, who let it all fall to pieces.So please, you don't have to feel sorry for me,I am a bastard and I've got a very special place in hell waiting for me...- Word of Chen, Darkest Hour, 16th February 2015
That's So Gay"That's so gay,"Is what you say,But silently,You've pushed oneOf your friends away."Oh no, honey,Boys don't playWith Barbie dolls."By enforcing gender roles,You are killingYour kids,And telling themThat you'll love them no matter what**Conditions apply.Don't push your loved onesAwayWith things you do or say,Because words hurt;But they hurt mostFrom the mouths ofThe people that told you,They'd always love you.Saying, "that's so gay",Or making them behaveIn a gendered way,Is telling themThat it's not okayTo be somethingThey can't help.(And even if they could,Why wouldIt matter?)And it will hurt themForever,And every time you're together,They'll be wondering;"Am I wrong?""Do I really belong?"Every time you say something like,"That's so gay",You burn someone's trust away.And you can't build anything backFrom ash.
A Letter To The Girl Who Hates Her BodyA letter to the girl who hates her body.A letter to that girlWho scrolls through tumblr.Admiring all of those models.With thigh gaps that look cute with skirts.And a waist that you can barely see.You're beautifulA letter to the girlWho looks at models,For their curves.The way their hips go outwardsAnd their size D cup breasts.You're beautiful.Please don't look in the mirror,And hate the girl you see.That girl is youAnd she should be loved unconditionally.Because you deserve love.And how much love is not determined on your waist size,Whether you're chubby or skinnyYou're still so very pretty.You're so perfect.So for every time you look in that mirror.And tell yourself you aren't worth it.That you're arms are too big,Your hips aren't big enough.Stop.Tell yourself.I am a woman.A lady.I am strong.I have a body like a castle.A kingdom made just for me.And I will not destroy that castle,By trying to starve myself.By taking brick by brick and dismantling it
You are StrongYou are so, so strong.Whatever you’re going through,Just keep onKeeping on.The time it takesMight be short or long,But you will findThat perfect placeWhere you belong.Just hold on.
Soldier BoyOne day he came home,A man given freedom.He looked in the mirror,And liked what he saw...The days wore on,And he lived his life.Morning PT was a distant memory,So too were the shouts of a Sergeant.Training came thrice at first,Then twice, then once,Then none...The days wore on...And life became harder,Sacrifices were made.He looked in the mirror one day,And didn't like what he saw.Not anymore...Not the pot-bellied man working for a few scraps.Nor the slovenly fellow who'd forgotten how to clean his kit.He earned his freedom, but he had lost what he respected...And the days wore on...And so he went out running, one fateful day,His lungs burning with every breath.Yet despite the pain inside his chest, He resolved the soldier, would return to his best."You've been gone a long time Corporal Chen, what say we go once more around the yard!"-Word of Chen, One-shot, 24 February
Dreaming Keeps the Dreamer SaneTo the dreamer.The one who sits and stares into corners of the class room.Dreaming of some place better.Whether that place is real or not.It is just anywhere other than here.We paint over the whites of the walls.Our minds are the paint and our eyes are the brushes.Turning ordinary objects into castles that stand 30 feet tall.And people into characters for our plays,That fill our imaginative brains.We tune out the lectures out of boredom or from wanting to escape.We turn the blank of our note book's pageInto a mess of jumbled words of a song.That we once heard as a conversation in a coffee shop,It sounded like a soft tune then, just filling the silenceWith soft mumbles and whispers,Of a stranger's life that we heard bits and pieces of.We create symphonies out of the rainAs the thunder rolls in the distance.We turn the noise into music in our brains.Something to distract us from the pain,Because in the end,Dreaming keeps the dreamer sane.
Let It BeOne of these daysThere won't be enough room forme.