Serpent MythThats it.Serpent Myth by SleeplessSock
This has gone on for far too long.
Look me in the eyes, and tell me you meant well.
Tell me that, how you acted was out of concern.
Tell me what you did was out of friendship.
For too long I have put up with this.
Lies. Two facedness. Treating those you claim you care about, as dirt.
It is unacceptable.
Your type has broken down my defences and gained my trust.
You've cupped my heart with your hands.
Then ripped it apart, with no care in the world.
And all of you have still had the nerve to look me in the eyes,
Filled with crocodile tears
And tell me, that this is what a friend does.
You would belittle me for not telling you the problems I have
Then tell your self made audience.
Gaining self pity and self righteousness.
I mean, you are the good guys after all.
If I wanted it broadcasted, I would go up on stage myself.
But no. For some reason, I like my privacy, as strange as that is.
Don't. You. DARE.
Stand there with your justifications
and victim cards
Bread of shameThis attack has become something more.Bread of shame by SleeplessSock
The words I so easily deflected, have become embedded with thorns, broken glass and needles. I swear, it feels like I'm being torn apart.
I cannot escape it. There's nowhere to run or hide.
With flesh now exposed, the hunt is on. I have become the weak animal against this blood thirsty creature.
There's static crowding together around the edges, almost obscuring my sight. The constant movement and contrast of it is giving me a headache and it's so important that I stay alert.
I have to focus everything into acting the right way. If even my pulse flutters for just a fraction of a second, he will go for my jugular.
But it's so difficult.
It's taking all of my willpower just to keep it together.
Acid is burning my throat and nose, making it even harder to breathe. My body is already battling against me, trying to force me into hyperventilation.
It's making me light headed. Everything is appearing more sluggish by the second.
Nobody syndromeIt's an odd thing you know. The feeling of detachment.Nobody syndrome by SleeplessSock
At first, it'll be fine. Laughing, talking, dreaming, remembering. Making plans. Creating.
You'll go to bed. Maybe you'll sleep soundly, lost in the stories of your imagination. Or maybe you'll struggle, tossing and turning, waking to even the softest of touches, even the sound of a moths wing brushing against a curtain. Or the silence.
I just know that, when morning comes, the entity that found a way to cling to your heart, changes you.
You can no longer take joy in even the smallest of moments. Voices are an endless drone to get lost in. No matter how much sleep you grab, tiredness still cloaks you.
There's no moving forward. There's no moving backward. Time just...stands still.
It fills you with undescribable loss, that dosent feel like it's apart of you. It's just there, making it hard to see, slowing you down.
You want to leave this world. But not in the way you may think.
Not by cutting it short, permanently.
UntiltedHomelessnessUntilted by SleeplessSock
'Is the condition of people without a permanent dwelling, such as a house or apartment. People who are homeless are most often unable to acquire and maintain regular, secure and adequate housing.'
Something I've wanted to write about, but
Have been unsure on how to begin.
I've witnessed people, full of hopes and dreams
Become crammed into countless and nameless articles and numbers,
All grouped up as voiceless, faceless ghosts.
I've read about the rash of deaths.
Not tragedy. Not mourning.
Like a death of a soul is just a passing irritation.
Apply the cream and be done with it.
These statistics, these subjects, these petitions and social experiments
Talk about the cold logic but never the struggling heart.
They never talk about the man, living under the stars,
Who, one day, dreams of going to Spain
To see his sister dance.
There's no thoughts on the woman who was forced to bus to the hospital
after a group of lads thought it funny to set their dog on
by design.Is thisby design. by Xelador
"the beginning of forever,"
A new destiny at height?
The stampede rages on,
Whether I'm caught up or I'm gone.
Sing along, sway with the crowd
If I belong I don't stand out.
It's so surreal and sickening.
Roses; overused symbols -
Pricked by inexpressive thorns
Did someone claim the grandest prize?
Made for Love,
Born to Live -
Loved in Fear;
Living to Perish.
A thriving toxin fills the air,
Caresses on your lips,
Then it seeds inside your lungs,
Always gentle in the start -
Oh so humble as it grows,
Yet those who see the signs and know -
No, surely something so sweet is
Just a treat.
Built up higher
For a greater fall..
So busy running,
Is this the Truth, if that exists;
Is this another frail misgiving?
Sacrilege in sanctuary;
Pensive by design.
all I've ever asked is love.What if nobody believes me?all I've ever asked is love. by Xelador
What happens when everyone finds their closest,
Shuts their doors?
And when I stumble,
All the tremors and agitation;
Will someone be there?
Will I still be running on empty?
Am I running in circles?
What am I doing this to myself for?
How can I possibly think of a greater good
If I don't take care of myself?
Is it even possible to do what I want
And do what I need?
I feel the stark ambivalence,
So cold as its returning;
Always back to bitter dissatisfaction,
All I've ever asked, is Love.
Behind the MaskDon't yell at me, that's all I can ask of my friends.Behind the Mask by HeartlessSaru
Those who know me well always speak quietly around me because they've seen it.
When people yell, I shut down, I curl up and hide.
I've always tried to act tough, but it's all a lie, I'm just overly emotional.
When people yell, I'm back living inside a memory.
A Terrified boy sitting on his bunk bed, while his angry father kicks a hole in the wall yelling.
"That'll be your head next time"
I don't even remember what I did.
My Mask is cracking, I can't hid behind it forever, bits of me are starting to show.
I've always hated loud confrontations with others,
They always felt wrong, and made me feel sick.
I've always acting tough yet behind this mask is still a terrified little boy, still sitting on that bunk bed.
Terrified of everything new, Terrified of failing, Terrified of people yelling, and terrified of confrontation.
Behind this Mask, is a coward and a weakling.
Behind this Mask, is a forgetful fool, who can't even hold his own gr
|I'm British and I like tea.|