"Hell is empty, all the devils are here"

She cries at 3 am, trying to muffle the angst so no one is awoken by her deplorable tears.
She feels pathetic and weak, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, thinking of all her peculiarities.
She realizes no one truly knows the unhappiness that rages through her restless heart.
She trusts no one after what you did, she lies through her teeth to appease their curiosities.
She knows no one cares either, everyone is off in their world while she waits, abandoned, in a crevasse between humanity's degeneracy.

I long for that feeling to not feel at all.

I hate you.
I hate what you've made me, an endless abyss of unforgivable spite.
I hate you when you're away because I think of how you treat me.
I hate you even more when you're with me because I melt into your sugared words, my sign of weakness.
I hate you when you're with friends because you act as if nothing has happened, something I try to convince myself everyday.
I hate you.
I hate you.


But you're forever on my mind.


Can you hear my silence,
Can you see the the darkness,
Can you fix the broken,
Can you feel my heart,

I refuse to feel anymore .

"The Cheap Shot"

There is hurt here.

The type that cannot be mended by Band-Aids or poetry.

A type of hurt that compels me to harshly remind you of the mistake you made at every opportunity I get.

You're ignorant to the fact that I am constantly in pain.
No matter how insignificant your misconduct seems, it still burns with vigorous flames.

I don't know if I'll ever really forgive you for your mistake, betraying the trust I had hesitantly bestowed in you,

But I cannot seem to unhinge myself from your hypnotic incantation.

Carrie and me

You broke me.

You broke my heart.

And I hate you because I still love you.

And I hate myself even more for it.

Are you happy now

Vilipend my bereavement

You say it was an honest mistake,

And I say it's fine,

I'm accustomed to recovering the pieces

Of my fractured heart after your

'Mistakes.'

Ensconce my reverie.

I will never reveal the deepest, darkest corners of my mind to you,
For you'll cradle them and claim them as your own mission to conquer.
I am not your charity,
And I don't need saving from these thoughts...
Only a means to ease the pain.

Home

Where our minds grow small,

And our legs grow tall,

Where we learn how to utter our first words,

And take the first steps on our own two feet,

Where we learn to love with fervent compassion,

And forgive those who wound us,

Where our hearts are awoken and kept alive,

And where our fear is taken,

Where we feel comforted and secure from our nightmares,

And seek refuge in the eye of the storm,

Where we feel more confident in ourselves,

And in our skin, find our true identity.

Our home is where we belong and where we fit in regardless of our differences.

Our hearts are buried just beyond the gracious horizon of our town, our city, our country.

We are the greatest pretenders in morning light; but at home, we feel relief in exposing our vulnerable veracity.

In the morning when we wake, familiar aromas of home fill our lungs with sweetness and fill our head with harmony.

When the evening pulls the sun down and the day is almost through, our longing for happiness is satiated by the warm presence of our family and familiar surroundings.

As Dorothy said, there is no place like home.

A kaleidoscopic fear resides here...

I have a fear that one day you'll see me the way I see myself..