More than not.

More than not I am alone.

More than not I am hurting.

More than not you aren’t here by me…

More than not I am sad.

More than not I feel lonely.

More than not I am depressed.

More than not you can’t help me.

More than not you go with your friends.

More than not I am last.

More than not I miss you.

More than not I feel far from your thoughts.
Do you even think of me?

Miss me? Truly?

Or is that something you say to maybe make me feel better…

Don’t you realize you mean everything to me?

Don’t you realize I think of the worst with you?

Because of you?

Because of me?

I am a worry freak.

And leaving me to myself and my horrifying thoughts is what will kill me.

How could you!?

Leave me to this horror I bring upon myself…

More than not.

More than not.

More than not.

What’s inside of me…

I am going to do something I never done before… share my deepest, darkest, innermost thoughts. When you get done reading it you may think I am a whack job. Maybe an emo. Maybe a spycho. Or maybe a normal human being who hurts like everyone, loves like everyone, and breathes like everyone… but just remember we all have skeletons in the closet. 

Okay.

So to tell you how I feel I will have to dig deep. Deeper than I ever have before. Deeper than the wound of your lover cheating on you. Deeper than the trench in the ocean. Deeper than any pain or hurt you could imagine. I must go deep. 

Empty.

Have you ever felt so empty you could not begin to describe how empty you felt? So empty that not even God seems to fill you. So empty that food would never satisfy. Crazy isn’t it? How bout this.

Hurt.

You ever felt so much hurt that it felt numb. Bled so many tears you couldn’t cry anymore? Breaking down is a normal thing for you, and you literally schedule a time to cry because you know it’s time to. Not that you necessarily have a legit reason as of late, but you know deep down, “okay, time to shed the last bit of salt water in my body.” Ever felt that? 

Stress.

Ever stressed so much that your stresses turn into nightmares. That vivid scene portrayed in your mind becomes reality. For a moment. But a moment too long. Nightmares depicted so vividly you feel the pain when you wake up. I had a dream I was running, Barefoot on rocks. My feet bled and I sobbed as I tried to escape my rapist. I woke up, fists clenched and my feet aching as I got up to get ready for work. It’s becoming a normal thing for me. Yes, I will never get used to it, but it is a normal thing. It is a normal thing for me to stress so much it affects my breathing. I hyperventilate. I stare into space. Thoughtless. Motivation withered away. Apathy settled in and there I am alone.

Alone.

Have you ever felt so alone, that you don’t even acknowledge others existing around you? I walked the street and didn’t see people. Or cars. Not houses… I saw nature. Cows and birds chirping. Horses and an occasional squirrel… but no one else but me around. God was there, but I couldn’t feel Him. I felt alone. So lonely you cry yourself to a panic. Ever felt that? Knowing you have absolutely no one to talk to. No one cares to understand you, only to give you there opinion on why you feel alone, and what you should do to fix it. They don’t bother to help you, or comfort you. They don’t bother to understand… just tell you what they think. Well, here’s what I think. I think suicide.

Suicide.

You ever thought about after life? How amazing heaven must be. And how, if it’s so perfect, why are we still here. What’s the point to live if living isn’t even living. I feel like I am surviving. I can’t even make it on my own, how is life worth living if I can’t live. But as soon as you prepare to take your life you think of those who love you… your husband. Your wife. Your brother. Sister. Mother. Father. Friend. Co-worker. How many people would I affect? Am I even that important to this world? How would I be missed. Would it? How long? How long till they’d move on…

Trapped.

Ever felt trapped? Take a wrong turn but there’s no uturns. No way to turn back around and make the right turn. No way to get those around you to understand that your GPS lost signal. Time to recalculate. Time to reboot my friendship… is it even worth it? 

I am depressed. I have anxiety. And the doctors have told me to take the meds, but I don’t want to! I am not a loony person. I am in no need of something to alter my personality… I rather feel nothing. And that’s what I am is nothing. I can’t say everything I feel, words can’t describe sometimes. If you feel nothing, how can it be compared to anything? If you feel a deep hurt, how will anyone know unless they are you? How will anyone know things people have said about you? And how being called easy by your own father hurt you so much. That being called a whore by numerous people changed you. That being called ditsy made you feel like you couldn’t accomplish much. That words cut like knives. Or maybe even machetes. Words completely cut off my life. I feel kinda dead inside. Ever been called a bitch? Or a f****** b****? yeah. It doesn’t feel good. Especially when you been sheltered your whole life. You know nothing. Nothing about paying bills, social life, work, or, you know… life. It’s all so knew I am I am screwed. I am done with life. And to be honest if I didn’t live another day it may be better for everyone.

Fun

When can I have fun?

When will it be I am the one who goes out with friends??

I’m lonely and not even looking for a friend.

What is the point?

Just so they can hurt me against and again?

Just so I can think we will be best of friends and it will never end?

What a lie.

Why would I lie to myself, that will never​ happen.

No one thinks I meet their standards.

I’m not cool enough.

But it’s whatever,

Let me drown in a sea of hopelessness

Let me suffocate in a lonely estate.

I have a mate and a companion,

But it doesn’t even matter.

If it did, I wouldn’t feel this way.

I want to feel

To FEEL important

Not just be told, but to believe.

I want someone to express their love for me constantly

Maybe that’s annoying

Maybe even rediculous…

I am rediculous

I am weird

I am a needy insecure person

That is who I am

And I am not changing anytime soon.

Why should I?

It’s not like changing for people has helped this far…

It’s not like puting myself last in situations helped much.

When can I have fun??

I want to live and be able to go out with friends,

Party, eat, be merry and play..
Not in a bad way,

I never said I would whore around,

I wouldn’t even venture to drink, smoke or do drugs…

I just want innocent fun.

Innocent trips to the beach, park, skating, bowling, shopping, eating, you know…

Escapades 

People my age make.

I can cry but no one heard or sees me,

So what’s the point anymore.

I am tired of wasting my emotions.

I feel I am reaching an emotionless state.

Is that bad?

Well, if it is, so sad.

Anomaly

whats tradition?

glorified repetition?

i want a new way of life

something that i can be proud of

more than holding a heritage

more like past generation wishes

past generation dirty dishes

hold me back and i am likely to become vicious

im sick of this

rabid

i attack

back track

im a train derailed

unstoppable

i hold a truth that shall prevail

invincible

tradition?

fallible opinions

i cant take anymore of the status quo

why are we held to a tradition to follow?

this new what of life isn’t a heartbeat.

change it up, live it up

don’t give a thought to a repeated cycle

be an anomaly…

Queen Bee

she sits on her throne

high and mighty

never over thrown

seemly mighty

 

lies and deception

thats her romance

her lover to be?

the next decision.

 

her organized payments

raising the charge

and requiring more

of the worker bees yards

 

she thirsts for more honey

the worker bees

breaking their backs

lending their wings

taking stings

they say “What does this bring?!”

desperation rings

causing ridiculous flings

the hive as a whole

continually down grading

but nature will forever sing

long may she live, the queen bee

The Cure

alive and well is the beast in this land

this cursed land, in which we dwell.

ignorance is bliss, we say

but the knowledge of such danger is necessity.

 

preying and feasting

on all the living and breathing,

no matter what

we hold ourselves accountable.

 

when we face the beast and lose all our strength

“where is the hand?” we say,

when things don’t go our way.

when trials come,

desperation seeks

for the risen help our souls need.

but shall it grant the favor?

bestow grace on the ungrateful fakes?

God help us.

lord have mercy on us

for asking in time of need,

but giving a blind eye,

turning the cold shoulder

when life is just fine…

we all deserve the worst.

hell at its finest is all too good for me.

i deserve the bottom of the pit

even when it cant be reached.

i should go there.

dwell there.

 

i deserve the worst.

but then came the blood!

thicker than any other!

stronger than any antidote!

the Cure.

the thing that saves…

 

the desperate and wicked,

this cure is the salvation of the beast

and his venom.

the poison it injects in each and every victim…

but i wont be that victim any longer!

 

for the blood that was spilt offered me more than a death sentence!

but a life sentence!

to freedom in eternal love,

and hope,

peace and joy.

 

the one thing that the beast is vulnerable,

the Blood

the Cure.

Eraser

a blank page is set

then comes a sketch

one, line, then another

and mistakes shaded over

some mistakes cant be fixed, only erased

may the artist make the best of what they create

not all faults are to be embellished

stop creating

start erasing

for the blank page has its limits

one fatal mishap then shall the picture be forever scarred

lines

even the eraser fails to relinquish

could it be the eraser should meet its match?

could it be defeated by even the smallest scratch?

The Fire

sticks and limbs gathered together

placed out of the place

but then formed the fire

sparks

started

false fires

lies blow the flames,

the fire grew

burning the surrounding grounds

dirt thrown in layers to extinguish before disaster

the smoldering ashes remained, BUT STILL

heat

stoking it more

ever more will it grow

the fire rekindles

rekindling the fire that should’ve never remained

but too short a time it ceases yet again

never to be sparked again!

buried,

beneath,

the fire is dead

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