thatoneemogirl98

I wish we could forget the memories. The memories of our painful times seen. Could unsee those painful unpleasentries. I wish we could wash our tortured minds clean. Unfortunately they haunt my nightmares. My mind refuses to forget its past. No amount of time can pay my mind's fares. The memories are holding their grip fast. The uncaringness of people kills me. The deadliness of today's tech kills me. Perhaps we will figure out to be free. From the memories that love to haunt me. But that day has yet to come so I will Do my best to live with the images.  

The pink rose imprinted in his skin glistens oddly in the light. The curving lines of the flower reminds him of a time he wanted to take flight. And fly away from here. Stars rest upon his skin at night. As well as in the day's harsh light. No one can understand his dreadful plight. Nor the pain that can kill him he fears. He turns to the goddess of the night. Prays for her to make things right. But she says he alone must fight. He doesn't know where to start, the path unclear. So he turns to the silver's stinging bite. It gives him strength and he holds it tight. He draws a pentagram in honor of his goddess' insight. The crimson flow stop

                                                                                                                                          It's in the breeze shuffling through the trees on a summer's day.                                                  It's in the salty ocean waves crashing over the bay.                                                  It's in the child learning to find strength from her fears.                                                  It's in the grief of unshielded tears.                                                  It's in the roar of an old engine restored.                                                

The tears fall upon the cheeks so white. He feels no one can hear his heart's cries. Gone is the beauty of the flying kite. Replaced by Death's black lies. The butterfly's wings flutter to a stop on the flower so pure. He envies the beauty in ignorance. How the color-filled wings can always feel so secure. When he had to lose his innocence. She will never know the pain he has borne. Because she can live and die in such grace. She doesn't have the chance to mourn. Or want to leave this place. When the sun darkens to a glaring flame. He thinks of the love he gave. When the one he loved died, he felt he was the one to blame. Beca

My heart is broken.     I'll take the memories you leave behind as a token. That once you loved me.       Maybe one day my heart will be free. From the chains that bind.         Maybe my soul mate I will find. One who will do their all.       To make sure my tears don't fall.

Her heart has died. Her soul is dying. How long can she last? When will this end? For she has felt the bite of the razor blade. The consuming pain gripping her. As she has gripped the hand of a lover's support. It all started so long ago. Her life fell apart. For she has felt the bite of the razor blade. Her shaking hand like her shaking mind. An idea forming within. The idea that will make or break her sanity. Deciding to releave herself but guilt her conscious. For she has felt the bite of the razor blade. Decided to save herself. Gripped the remedy 'till her knuckles turned white. Pressed against the skin so pure. Then she slipped a

In that instance, We were locked into an epic battle. Two became one and new bonds were born while old ones grew ever stronger. In that moment, We no longer knew who's limb belonged to whom. Nor did we care. All we knew was that our lonely Wondering Souls had morphed and molted into something beautiful. We knew that our love would forever shine through. That our love would be indefinantly as strong and powerfull as that moment. In that instance, our intertwined bodies shuttered with euphoria as two souls became one.

I can fill all the oceans and lakes and rivers and streams In the world with the amount of tears I have shed on your behalf. The PAIN You have inflicted upon me over the yearshas perminantly damagaed my already SCARED, FRAGILE Heart. The sleep I have lost worrying over you could fill even the DEEPEST Voids and CARVE the deepest craters. Although you do not see it, Although you do not believe my pleading words, They ring true and my aching heart yearns for you to hear the truth. Even though you have caused me a MILENIA'S Worth of PAIN And SUFFERING, All packed into the span of 14 short years, I looked past all th

The frigid morning air nips at my nose.    My bare feet shy away from the sharp points of the rocks beneath them. The darkness consumes the earth                         DEVOURING                             DESTROYING Unwinding the organized chaos Day had carefully wound.    Until, just before everything is gone, a multitude of colors burst from behin

You’ll want someone exotic, and marry a Romanian. He’ll tell you to dye your hair and you’ll do it, then make chewing on its multicolored strands a habit. You’ll kiss him once and say he tastes like wine. Wine, no? he’ll say with a grin. Only gentlemen drink wine. You'll leave him because you won’t like cliches. You’ll find a shadow behind a counter (because that’s the only way to describe him). You’ll watch him clashing silverware around in drawers like cold piles of bones, and he’ll give you a free slice of key-lime pie and say it’s the best in the state. You’ll lick u

When I find an old poem Packaged beneath an allegory Or taped beside a piece of prose, Warm and balmy and still swollen Ripe with the undisturbed Words Within their plastic wrapper, I untangle its cellophane bindings To find it's too old And too stale for the proper use of a poem So I pluck out its Strings Like some guts of a creature And sew them Onto other dust poems Like the mismatched socks Of a child Just like murder is an art, I still walk away with ink on my hands.

The unseen movie that is life haunts my every footstep following me, leaving no tracks only the patches of tears I wept You tell me that I am someone and I sit and blink I try to consider your words so carefully analyzed, yet casual and it only makes me grieve Woe for the life that could have been thoughts to the boy who never grew up drowning in his favourite poisons despite the words of love itself.

Hell is a Wings Swimwear Superstore I don't care if you've never even heard of Wings before There is no way anyone has gotten to this point of their existence Without entering one of those abominations With towels And tee shirts And whatever's fashionably sinful this season Confederate flags are in, I observe Staring up at the south supremacy g-string they have tacked up on the wall I quickly decide to leave that aisle I'm not looking for the fall of the Union I'm just looking for a bathing suit that maybe Just maybe Won't increase the shame of leaving mine at home But as I pass by a top that reads Feeling lucky? That's just the right siz

I belong to the generation of a cupid who had too many drinks at the bar attempting to drown all of his sorrow down and just so happened to stumble upon a Christmas sale of machine guns. Like a triple A FPS game every clip has a billion rounds. With a flask in hand cupid just said, “screw it” and swapped out his handbook for Rambo. I was born in a time where love is as rare as gold and face sucking is wassup. Holding hands is the desired form of affection. Saying “I love you” is the one true reflection of feelings. And “Our love will die with us,” is the mindset. My generation is the editor for William

We are the forgotten The broken and beaten Those standing on shaky leg Covered in blood and bruises We took the abuse The harsh words and thrown fits Cried about the scars on our hearts And covered up the wounds on our skin We learned how to toughen up How to take a hit and dish it back Closing off our souls from the poison And open ourselves to the ones who truly care We are the survivors The worriers and fighters Learning to shield and deflect While striking true with a sword and bow And yet... We are also the damned Those not strong enough Not able to rise above it all And were dragged down below We are those who suffer Who cry and s