When I was twelve I loved my dad
The pulse of my heart was because of him
His arms were a towering fortress
That I thought would fight for me.
I couldn't tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise.
Rye was only a swaying grain in the fields.
When I was twelve I thought my dad loved me.
On the day I turned thirteen
The phone didn't screech until the next day.
Slurring his words with whiskey still on his tongue,
I could hardly understand his apologies.
With tears trapped in my eyes,
I lied.
Said it was okay.
When I was thirteen I loved my dad.
When I was fourteen
I loved a girl.
My sister became my brother
And my brother lost a father...
You always tasted like alcohol by yuzi-12, literature
Literature
You always tasted like alcohol
I Can’t remember much since you've left.
Mainly foggy memories of me stumbling for the next bottle.
My grandma tells me it breaks her heart to see me drink.
But she doesn't know
That I drink to replace the taste of your lips.
And I’m just trying to get addicted to something besides the way your whole body trembles when I touch your thighs.
I will keep telling myself that by emptying the bottles,
it will replace the empty void that fills me.
I have had many things stolen from me.
From the simplest things.
When I was 5 my first play station.
7, my first kiss.
And when I was 14, my first time.
Most people imagine their first time
as this beautiful moment,
Candles on the side of the bed.
Marvin Gaye playing in the background.
And this perfect collision of bodies.
Like during a sunset,
The way purple and pink clash so beautifully.
And that absolute moment of pleasure.
But instead of screaming his name,
I was screaming for help.
Lately I've found myself wishing that I could light myself on fire.
As every inch of my skin peeled off and turned to ash.
And all of this ache and pain
would be less then this flame engulfing me.
Lately I've been keeping secrets.
But these stains on my sheets won't wash out.
And these bruises won't fade,
These scabs won't heal.
I'll paint my nails red so my mother won't know.
But no mixture of soap and water
could wash away this shame
this guilt.
Lately I've found myself wishing that I could light myself on fire.
There was a girl who was rather small.
She never said much, In fact nothing at all.
She would sit by herself, all alone.
All alone, Alone with her box.No one really knew the contents inside.
No one really knew what she had to hide.
Only she knew what we all wanted to know.
We wanted to know, Know what was inside the box.She never seemed to let the box go.
Our curiosity seemed only to grow.
Till one gloomy day we stole it away.
We stole it away, Stole the box.Only now was the time we began to hear.
Only now did it all seem to be clear.
That was the moment everyone knew.
Everyone knew, Knew what was inside the box.We heard the loud beating o...
They think that they know.
But they don't fight these battles.
They have a place to go.
They don't live among these shadows.They say that they care.
As I sit here alone.
When they're never even there.
As I'm shifting in my bones.They say that we want attention.
Though all I want is someone,
Who gives me compassion,
Doesn't make me want to run.Because every day it is the same.
They won't let us rise.
They beat us and they call us names.
While society ignores our cries.They'll tear us apart.
And all they do is sit and stare.
Does nobody have a heart?
To ever think, ever care?Do they ever think of us?
And all we go through.
We have no to trus...
Behind His Mask,
Mask of Insanity.
He Is Suffering.
He wants to be free.Behind His Dark eyes,
Eyes of Insanity.
Lies so much more.
Lies what he wishes to be.Behind his crackled voice,
Voice of insanity.
Is the real him.
Is the truth you can't see.Behind His Mask,
Mask of insanity.
He is suffering.
He will never be free.
When I was twelve I loved my dad
The pulse of my heart was because of him
His arms were a towering fortress
That I thought would fight for me.
I couldn't tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise.
Rye was only a swaying grain in the fields.
When I was twelve I thought my dad loved me.
On the day I turned thirteen
The phone didn't screech until the next day.
Slurring his words with whiskey still on his tongue,
I could hardly understand his apologies.
With tears trapped in my eyes,
I lied.
Said it was okay.
When I was thirteen I loved my dad.
When I was fourteen
I loved a girl.
My sister became my brother
And my brother lost a father...
You always tasted like alcohol by yuzi-12, literature
Literature
You always tasted like alcohol
I Can’t remember much since you've left.
Mainly foggy memories of me stumbling for the next bottle.
My grandma tells me it breaks her heart to see me drink.
But she doesn't know
That I drink to replace the taste of your lips.
And I’m just trying to get addicted to something besides the way your whole body trembles when I touch your thighs.
I will keep telling myself that by emptying the bottles,
it will replace the empty void that fills me.
I have had many things stolen from me.
From the simplest things.
When I was 5 my first play station.
7, my first kiss.
And when I was 14, my first time.
Most people imagine their first time
as this beautiful moment,
Candles on the side of the bed.
Marvin Gaye playing in the background.
And this perfect collision of bodies.
Like during a sunset,
The way purple and pink clash so beautifully.
And that absolute moment of pleasure.
But instead of screaming his name,
I was screaming for help.
Lately I've found myself wishing that I could light myself on fire.
As every inch of my skin peeled off and turned to ash.
And all of this ache and pain
would be less then this flame engulfing me.
Lately I've been keeping secrets.
But these stains on my sheets won't wash out.
And these bruises won't fade,
These scabs won't heal.
I'll paint my nails red so my mother won't know.
But no mixture of soap and water
could wash away this shame
this guilt.
Lately I've found myself wishing that I could light myself on fire.
There was a girl who was rather small.
She never said much, In fact nothing at all.
She would sit by herself, all alone.
All alone, Alone with her box.No one really knew the contents inside.
No one really knew what she had to hide.
Only she knew what we all wanted to know.
We wanted to know, Know what was inside the box.She never seemed to let the box go.
Our curiosity seemed only to grow.
Till one gloomy day we stole it away.
We stole it away, Stole the box.Only now was the time we began to hear.
Only now did it all seem to be clear.
That was the moment everyone knew.
Everyone knew, Knew what was inside the box.We heard the loud beating o...
They think that they know.
But they don't fight these battles.
They have a place to go.
They don't live among these shadows.They say that they care.
As I sit here alone.
When they're never even there.
As I'm shifting in my bones.They say that we want attention.
Though all I want is someone,
Who gives me compassion,
Doesn't make me want to run.Because every day it is the same.
They won't let us rise.
They beat us and they call us names.
While society ignores our cries.They'll tear us apart.
And all they do is sit and stare.
Does nobody have a heart?
To ever think, ever care?Do they ever think of us?
And all we go through.
We have no to trus...
Behind His Mask,
Mask of Insanity.
He Is Suffering.
He wants to be free.Behind His Dark eyes,
Eyes of Insanity.
Lies so much more.
Lies what he wishes to be.Behind his crackled voice,
Voice of insanity.
Is the real him.
Is the truth you can't see.Behind His Mask,
Mask of insanity.
He is suffering.
He will never be free.
Think of me
Think of my eyes
Think of my hands running through your hair
Think of my song resonating in your ears
Think of the sensations of our lips pressed together
Think of our fingers intertwined
Think of my body pressing against yours, my hot breath against your neck
Think of my love, your love
Think of our spirits together as one
Think of me always .Don’t forget me.
Roses I cry roses
The petals slowly falling from my cheeks
White tears of loneliness
Petals, bruised and cut
Scars of emotionI bleed roses, too
They seep from my wrists,
My mouth
Crimson petals pouring from every orifice
Graceful in their tragedyI’m full of flowers
I want to let them out
But I will waste them if I doThen you come along
You pick up all my petals
You weave them through my hair
And say, “Give me your flowers”
“I will make beautiful things out of your sadness”
“I will make you happy”Now, the roses bloom in full
They heal my scars
They dry my tears
Beautiful buds flourishing from every part of me
You keep them and make beautifu...
When I was twelve I loved my dad
The pulse of my heart was because of him
His arms were a towering fortress
That I thought would fight for me.
I couldn't tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise.
Rye was only a swaying grain in the fields.
When I was twelve I thought my dad loved me.
On the day I turned thirteen
The phone didn't screech until the next day.
Slurring his words with whiskey still on his tongue,
I could hardly understand his apologies.
With tears trapped in my eyes,
I lied.
Said it was okay.
When I was thirteen I loved my dad.
When I was fourteen
I loved a girl.
My sister became my brother
And my brother lost a father...
I try all kinds of art. key word: try. I really do poetry and photography, but when I do traditional art, I don't really have great talents there. I am working though. practice makes perfect. Thank you.
Sorry ive been really inactive lately, school and I haven't been doing much writing recently. But I'm bored and found this on tumblr....so....what was your: last drink: H2Olast phone call: My dad
last text message: my best friend.
last song you listened to: Pity Party -Melanie Martinezlast time you cried: Like 2 days ago. I hit my funny bone have you ever: dated someone twice: no
been cheated on: nah
kissed someone and regretted it: YES
lost someone special: like died? no.
been drunk and thrown up: Nope
list three favourite colours: Purple, pink, and yellow. in the last year have you: made a new friend: Kinda sorta. Yeah
fallen out of l...
Well to start off, I won't be using this account as much, mainly because I don't have the time. I will still post art and poems and like, so no worries, just not as often. (It never really was that often anyway) How ever, I will mainly be doing poetry now with some photography. I really wish I could show y'all some of my digital art that I did in Graphics, but sadly my teacher has the files and I never saved them to my jump drive. Well, I hope you have a lovely day.
Well I haven't been on here in a while so first off I wanted to say, i am not dead. Not yet at least. This snow might freeze me. because some sort of magic came and made it snow for once. Also I have some very exciting news.Guess who got one of their poems published in a book.THIS GIRL!!!!I was so excited when i found out and I don't really think any of you would care but maybe you do.But sadly I have exams all next week.
Which means i am going to fail all of them and fail all of my classes! Isn't that just so exciting.
I am so bad at school this year.
I think my brain died. Just died. I failed a test on soil. HOW DOES ONE DO THAT?Anyway s...