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Literature Text
I may live inside my own, twisted universe
I may change, sometimes for the worst.
What's normal to me is not normal for you.
Sometimes I just do what I need to do.
Behind a brick wall, I hoped someone would break it
I threw out my heart hoping someone would take it.
But I got tired of hiding and tired of hating
And instead of throwing myself at every guy, I'm waiting.
I'm sick of the person I tried to be
So basically, here I am, I will be me
I'm sick of the hatred, would you not agree?
.. Basically I'm sick of society.
I may change, sometimes for the worst.
What's normal to me is not normal for you.
Sometimes I just do what I need to do.
Behind a brick wall, I hoped someone would break it
I threw out my heart hoping someone would take it.
But I got tired of hiding and tired of hating
And instead of throwing myself at every guy, I'm waiting.
I'm sick of the person I tried to be
So basically, here I am, I will be me
I'm sick of the hatred, would you not agree?
.. Basically I'm sick of society.
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
Literature
Desperation
I wonder how many days you've spent feeling lost.
Thinking that you're going somewhere.
Never actually getting anywhere.
You look at the same four walls over and over again.
You can paint them in different colours,
But you know they're still the same.
And you convince yourself that you're making progress,
Nothing's changed, but you're making progress.
Things are getting worse, but you're making progress.
And then you wake up and realise,
That shit has hit the fan...
Suddenly you're forced to do the things you couldn't,
The kind of things that you were never comfortable with.
And you find out you can do them.
You find out that the only
Literature
R.I.P Words
Do you know what it feels like?
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have not
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-_-
don't hate
please.
comments?
don't hate
please.
comments?
© 2013 - 2024 MikkiMarie
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