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Literature Text
Hiding in the shadows
Resisting in secrecy
Trying to find a way
To change this life of misery
The future is unknown
The past is to forget
The present is dull and boring
Is this what life has to offer?
I want to change
And I keep trying
Only to fail miserabily
Every single time
Resisting in secrecy
Trying to find a way
To change this life of misery
The future is unknown
The past is to forget
The present is dull and boring
Is this what life has to offer?
I want to change
And I keep trying
Only to fail miserabily
Every single time
Literature
on seeking solace in strangers
And she felt like home
her arms gave
way to the sand
castle of her
chest,
she was
inexplicable
and
obscene
and
vulgar
and
i loved her for it
i knew
she was a dragon
of a girl
even with
charcoal creases
beneath her eyes
and smudged
vowels
l
e
a
k
i
n
g
from the corners
of her lips
like a faulty tap
to me she was beautiful
like those obscure
lapses in time
at 3.25 AM
with her legs
stretched across the
window sill
smoking my cigarettes
as she let her words
fold themselves
into the quiet
s p a c e s
around us
she still sparkled
with this rebellious
twinkle in her eyes
and
Literature
I wish it never Happened
I wish it never happened
Wish that it was a nightmare.
But the memories keep flooding
and what happened was real.
I wish i wasn't raped,
I wish it was a lie.
I wish you never lied to me,
I wish what we had was real.
I wish I was dead and gone,
I wish the memories never existed.
I rather pretend and live a lie,
then face the real world.
I wish you never laid your hands on me,
I wish it was a nightmare to come.
But it was the truth,
and people have witnessed the crime.
I wish you were never mine.
I wish I was never yours.
These memories wouldn't exist,
if I wasn't foolish in believing.
You have lied from the start,
broken my heart into pie
Literature
I never cry in the daylight
I know what it is to die,
curled up on the bed with the sheets
strewn about, leaking regret
into a pillow case
while daylight shines
through the window
as if everything is ordinary—
as if nothing died and
the world is as beautiful and
logical as ever.
I know what it is to sit
in a lonely room
with a dim lamp for light,
wanting desperately to cry,
but only able to sit
in silence as the nausea gnaws
and the images of toxic cleaner fluid
cocktails won’t subside
and cars keep driving by
outside the window,
their ghostly headlights
illuminating the darkness—
reminders that some people
still have a reason.
I know what
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Something I wrote between classes.
© 2013 - 2024 GhostOfTheEmptyGrave
Comments27
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That used to be my life, I understand how that feels.