You're never gonna love me, so what's the use? What's the point in playing a game you're gonna lose? What's the point in saying you love me like a friend? What's the point in saying it's never gonna end?
-Marina and The Diamonds
Hope ya like it
There Was a Young Girl Who Swallowed a LieThere was a young girl who swallowed a lie,I don't know why she swallowed a lie,Perhaps she'll die.There was a young girl who swallowed some cider,It squirmed and writhed and burned inside her,She swallowed the cider to drown the lie,I don't know why she swallowed the lie,Perhaps she'll die.There was a young girl who swallowed a word,Tears blurred, she swallowed that word,She swallowed the word to scare the cider,That squirmed and writhed and burned inside her,She swallowed the cider to drown the lie,I don't know why she swallowed a lie,Perhaps she'll die.There was a young girl who swallowed some fat,Imagine that, she swallowed the fat,She swallowed the fat to hurl the word,She swallowed the word to scare the cider,That squirmed and writhed and burned inside her,She swallowed the cider to drown the lie,I don't know why she swallowed the lie,Perhaps she'll die.There was a young girl who swallowed the fog,Her throat a bog, she swallowed the fog,She swallowed the
SeclusionSeclusion Sometimes you need seclusion to reclaim your mind.Blacken your vision and close your eyes,Plug your ears from the outside,As you fall back, back inside of “I.”And not “we,” “he,” “she,” but me.Sometimes to find myself, I must lose everyone else.
The point is there is noneWhen you first start to see lifeas a curse, you’re shot down.Don’t give up, they say, you’regonna go far. They fill you withpromises that it’ll get good soonand guilt trips about howselfish you’re being. They tellyou “life gets better”but you realize after awhilethat that’s not true;life doesn’t change—you do.You grow up and your idealismgets sucked out of you andeverything that happened whenyou were a kid is still happening,but now you have better thingsto think about.Gotta get ahead in the world,go for that gustoeveryone told you about.So you break your back in college,get addicted to coffee and alcohol,fall in love and have your heartjackhammered a few times;get a job (that you likely hate)under a lazy boss who’s power-tripping;maybe you get married,propagate the species,have some weekend hobbies,some pets,a circle of friends.Then one day you ask yourself,“Now what? What is there
Bite Your Tongue Till It BleedsBite Your Tongue Till It Bleeds Speak now or forever hold your peace,Or is it piece?‘Cause if I hold this piece of my mind,To myself, there will be no peace,Only an explosion of the mental mineThat riddles mine.I’m no man, I’m a mime,Holding his hands over his mouth,Biting my tongue so these words have no way out,With my eyes half-lidded, the other half brimmin’,With tears near the bottom half of the rim,Ready to fall like rainwater races down a windowsill. Angry to the point where I wish I could control the skies,Rain down Hell and fury that has built up inside,And watch my furious vision destroy the night. But this is not me,This not how I am,Nor how I will ever be.It’s just that I’ve been holding my peaceFor such a long damn time.Now it just seems the only “peace” I’m holding,Are pieces of my mind.
FiniteThere's onlyten daysbeforetwo secondsof suicideplus a nooseand a glassof milkthat was leftfor Santabut he didn't comebecause only coalcomesto a killerApple coreslitter the floorbecausethere's a girlwho doesn't knowhow to stopeatingbecauseit numbsthe painthat shehides behindA two-headed creaturebecauseone mindis alwaysgoing togo insaneand behungso there has to bean extrato make up fora newfound blemishon the faceof someonehell-benton beautyeven if it makes themugly insideA song on repeatasking"God, is this allthere is?"© TheRealDeidara29
People Like MeNobody likes people like me,those people they don't understand.The people who sit by a wall,but stick out like a boulder in sand.Nobody likes people like me,the ones whose thoughts are deep.I guess we scare them a littlewith the way we act and think.Long ago I learnedto paint masks on my small shell.They hid the things I really knewand the things I really felt.Now I mirror back at peoplethe things they want to see.But inside I am longingto rid these masks of me.Nobody likes people like me,even though I really tryto make everyone happywhile I slowly die inside.Nobody likes people like me,and I'm starting to cave in.Exhausted of these judgmentsand battles from within.Will anyone really listen?Or really understandthe things that I say here?Does anybody even care?Nobody likes people like me,and people like me don't knowthat there are others out there,other people to help them show.Nobody likes people like me,but I think if we could findanother who's just l
iMy mother gives away kissesLike handfuls of halloween candyGiven to strangers in the hopeThey don't trick her later(they do)So now I don't know howTo keep my affectionsWithout giving myself awayLittle by little each timeIn the hopes I can pretendI'm not tricking them now(i don't)My father buys me thingsTo fill a voidHe helped createIt never seems to be filledSo he keeps stuffing itIn hopes both of usWill feel less guilty at the end of the day(he does)So now I don't know how to feel sadWithout wantAnd I take in selfishnessTo fill a void I let openIn hopes I feel less guilty at the end of the day(i don't)
Dancing In The DarkEveryday you have haunted me.Yet I never realised to what extent,until by accident of my passingthat frame without a door,I caught a glimpse ofyour nocturnal routine.So I watched youcarry on dancing on your ownwith those blinded eyesslammed shut, so innocent are youas you jig like a puppetmissing a string.The darkness of your surroundingssinks ever deeper,I can only watch as you start to drownin the tides you enjoy ignoring.The stubborn shuffle of traineron cheap carpet is the trademarkmelody of this house.Along with the piercing lonelinessof your laughwhen you make an error that tickles you.What would you do if I took your legs away?Would you release your mind from its prisonand complete the stories it began?Would you remember the dreams you once wanted to accomplish?Or would you dance on your delicate hands?When all is said and doneand you have dancedas far as your mind can carry you.I will rememberhow, for a time,it made you smile.But the salt water
There I StoodI remembered the way she smelledjust as well as I can feelthe way her skinwould flow over minewhenever we touched.She hated her home.It was a living hell.Her mother had died long ago,and her father was out of control.Bringing home with himonly the stench of booze,when he came home, that is.He would beat her regularly,the old bastard.He did itonly because she was so similarto her mother,both so beautiful.I had given her my old pocket watch.I was fond of that watch,with its silent ticking that was never silent,as long as you knewwhat to listen for.She seemed like she loved it more than I.She cared for it.Maybe because it was from me,she wore it around her neck every day,on a mismatching copper-toned chain,but she didn't care.She had promised meshe would love itand treasure itfor as long as she lived.But then her father came home one daydrunker than ever before, this time.And he took her by force.Raped her.They say she must have been barely aliveafter