diestarlyt666

For the longest time I never understood How privileged kids, middle class Kids from wealthy families Could ever, with any real reason Have anything to BITCH about. They live in a world that isn’t The real world, who sees their lives As a fairy tale, something unreal; Their Volvos and five TVs are luxuries Too dear for the rest of the planet. But those kids with fishnet gloves Boys with eyeliner, girls with chains Hair curtaining half a face Are lumped in with kids Who might actually be sad. Who might actually be angry. Who might actually have problems. Even though problems are relative; Humans are limited and know only

I have always spoken my mind. There are too many thoughts, too many things fluttering in my head to fasten the latch on my lips. Still, I hold a net in my hands when I open my mouth like I can catch what I say, put it back where it came from. The words I swallow beat against my chest, nesting in my heartstrings feathers brushing against my throat I’m choking on things I’ve already said-- how am I falling when there are so many birds in my chest why am I an aviary when all I’m trying to be is human

I don't care if I'm in pain, I don't care if I'm holding back tears. I don't care if I'm shattered, I don't care if I'm broken, I don't care if I'm dieing, I don't care if I have bruises, I don't care if I have scars, If i see you so much as frown, I will do anything to make you smile again. Because I don't want to see you end up like me.

You find yourself falling, falling forever, deeper into the depths of this world, then you hit something hard. It hurts first, then you begin to notice. Its dark, and uncomfortable, a light ray shines and you shudder. There are skeletons all around, with marks on them implying a horrific death. Then you find a hole to escape, and jump again, falling, falling to the place this world ends, trying to escape everything, only to find there is no end. Its like one of hell's own stories, you keep trying a never ending task which rewards you with bitter pain every time, touching the threshold again and again. Sometimes you think if you should stop, g

I am within my grasp, A touch around an unseen corner; A heart that rapidly beats inside. I am an unknown being That rests in a well of darkness, Waiting to be found, To love and be loved, To know of things once locked away. The years dredge upon my soul While I am yet in my youth, Hinting at some lost age That once encircled me in a robe of pure whiteness. The feathers of memory brush past my skin, Giving a ghost of what was there before. Still, the pinprick of light Is steadily growing in the recesses of my heart, And uncertainty is fading slowly, Like the tide under the moon. It will flood my body again and again, Always receding, In tu

The pen is mightier than the sword, so they say. So which do you use to convey that you're not okay? To start a war in less than a day, to send in poisons on a tray, to join the vicious fray, to quicken one's decay, to find the right and wrong way, to show the beauty of the sun's rays, to sing and pray, to teach and explain, to scream in pain or vain, to express the misery of the rain, to create blood stains. The sword and the pen are exactly the same, the only difference is the user's gain.