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Literature Text
Let her paint a masterpiece,
Let her paint a lie
Let her paint a word inside the shining silver skies.
Let her paint a mystery,
Let her paint a sin
Let her paint the things that lie in darkness deep within.
Let her paint a masterpiece
(but this time there's a twist)
Make the brush a blade and let the canvas be her wrist...
Let her paint a lie
Let her paint a word inside the shining silver skies.
Let her paint a mystery,
Let her paint a sin
Let her paint the things that lie in darkness deep within.
Let her paint a masterpiece
(but this time there's a twist)
Make the brush a blade and let the canvas be her wrist...
Literature
Relapse
It’s like counting
Saturn’s rings,
hash marks
along your limbs -
remembering a time
when
‘just one more’
made you feel better.
- & you’re sitting there
wondering why
Draco, stuck in limbo
always looks like he’s
falling.
-dp
Literature
I Met Me
Today I met a girl,
and she asked, "How are you?"
"Just fine," I replied.
She said, "No, tell me what's true."
Perplexed, I stopped and stared.
She was young, no older than eight.
Her eyes were still innocent.
They knew no hate.
"What did you say?"
I asked in confusion.
"You know what I mean," she said.
This girl was in a delusion.
Trying to be kind,I replied,
"No I do not."
She frowned and replied,
"You lie quite a lot."
Now I was agitated.
What does this girl know?
Acting like she's so intelligent.
I'll just tell her to go.
"Let me explain!"
She exclaimed in haste.
"I know you're not alright.
I know you feel misplaced."
What?
How in
Literature
Therapists, I don't like their taste.
i.
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
ii.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
iii.
inexperienced,
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
iv.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through
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Comments22
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I think this my favorite poem from you.