She sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
I watched my best friend die.
It wasn't in a hospital and it wasn't an accident on some road somewhere. There's a saying, and I guess it's also… funny… how you never know what's going on behind closed doors.
I guess you're probably thinking of suicide - overdose, hanging by the rope, or (god forbid) the knife, but... it's not that.
Because it's one thing to die and it's another to die. I believe you can exist without properly living.
What is a life? We are born into this world with no say on the matter, and yet the majority of us take for granted that tomorrow we will wake up to another morning, another routine, another day in
They've finally come.Those wretched hounds of the king’s court have finally come.
They leap onto my back
And drag me with them to the depths of despair.
The emptiness of a being that has been defeated,
The utter shame of breaking has not conquered me yet.
So here I stand.
I hold my head up high
With my freshly-cut hair flying in my face;
It blinds my eyes
From seeing the true horror of it all.
Those demon eyes lurk before me.
Hunger will be the only witness tonight.
My arms are spread wide
To welcome the suffocating hatred,
The gnashing of the teeth
Of the woven snakes that bind me
To my pedestal of shame
At my hour of glory.
The sun
Hate me,
Call me names,
humiliate me,
You can't change who I am.
Beat me,
Hit me,
Rub salt in my wounds,
You can't change who I am.
Spread rumors,
Tell lies,
Turn your back on me,
You can't change who I am.
Arrest me,
Silence me,
Threaten me,
You can't change who I am.
Do everything you can,
To try and change me,
But the fact still remains,
You will never change who I am.