If Today Was My Last

if today was my last

If today was my last How would I spend it? would I take in all the little things, gathering all those little details that I have always missed, my head has always been too full of all these things that keep me up at night. Or would I still just float through it all Still just a shell of the kid I once was, all the vibrancy and wonder having left years ago.

Would I go to the library? to collect a few last lines Letting them live on the tip of my tongue. only to set them free with my last breath. letting the feeling of ink on the page, be the last thing my fingertips will feel. the smell of paper and secrets, invading my senses and welcoming me home at last.

Would I go to the school that has hallways I have haunted? having drifted through them, my eyes empty and my brain always too full with all those thoughts. stopping in the classes to whisper a few final goodbyes even though nobody would notice or hear me pausing the disorder and energy in those hallways, for just a few moments, finally letting myself take it all in.

would I go to the forest wherein the deepest part I could lie on its soft grass floor, in the utter calm of it letting my lungs finally breathe in the crisp air, the feeling of its coldness expanding within them. closing my eyes for the last time, finally letting myself feel at peace and safe, hearing the bird's singing floating around me, their cries being the last thing I will ever hear.

My last words will be uttered so softly that not even the wind would hear them, when they escape this prison of my mind, floating away with my final exhale. My last breath will flow out feeling free for the first time, escaping into the world seeing it all.

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child of grey

My father was of ebony. My mother of ivory I am the child of grey. Not enough ebony to be of my father To little ivory to be with my mother

My heart was of half-ice. A cold so unfeeling So a cold almost to the point of burning, never enough feeling to care my head half of snakes calculating and cruel always planning and waiting for the perfect moment to strike

My heart is made of half gold. Tender and caring beautiful and full of love, perfect to suit you my head half made of fire burning hot, always craving for something to fuel it unpredictable and starving for its next game

I am the child of grey. With the head of flame and scales calculating and unpredictable, Ready to strike and always to keep you on edge. And my heart of ice and gold blinding you with its beauty, while slowing killing you with its burning ice

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elliottparkerrr

4 years ago

dear adora, from elliott

To the little girl, I used to be do you remember all those nights when you would stay awake Thinking and dreaming up all those far away hopes and dreams You would stare up at the ceiling planning out how you would do it all

All those late nights Planning on how you would save the day Becoming that perfect superhero Swooping in to rescue everyone, Saving all the kittens from trees, Putting out fires Freeing your family from that living nightmare they would never wake from

Remember all those promises you would use to make Between you and the world outside that shitty apartment window Telling yourself it would get better, rehearsing it so much it was branded in your heart and brain Telling yourself those thoughts would go away That you could wake up And be the perfect daughter You would wake up and be a girl and believe it Your body would no longer feel so wrong

Spending all those nights and early mornings Praying to that god you were so hopelessly clinging to Begging him to make it all make sense Those thoughts stuck circling in your head All the worries and fears that had kept piling up Tangling themselves together

What would you think of me now if you saw who you became Would you be proud? Proud that I finally found myself That I had finally realized who I was Would you be happy? Happy that I had made it this far, Being able to finally make it to sixteen, even though you didn’t?

I guess you had been right when you thought you wouldn’t make it For me to make it, you had to die That I had to kill everything that you were Stealing away your name Cutting off those long curly locks, everyone had adored scarring that beautiful skin, that used to be your pride and joy

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elliottparkerrr

2 years ago

okay but like the inside of a washing machine sounds like it would be a fun place to hang out

The person reblogging this from you is rooting for you to have a happy, healthy, and successfull 2023.

They may also be trying to put you in a washing machine.

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elliottparkerrr

4 years ago

side show mirrors

You call me an attention whore. Only because my heart screams out for any type of love something you never gave look me in the eyes. And tell me. "I'm always craving attention." All I could do was Laugh. what you call craving attention I call a cry for help. Haven't you noticed that? You never taught me. how to ask for help

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elliottparkerrr

4 years ago

be proud

You tell me to SPEAK UP. To be "proud of my words" Let them out into the world. Stand behind them, ready to defend them with my life. And my entire being and soul

but how am I supposed to be "proud" of my words when I haven't even learned how to be proud of my self

how am I supposed to be "proud" Of these words I say. When I've learned that they don't even matter They get shot down and ignored. Before they even got the chance to be spoken.

How am I supposed to be "proud" when I've seen how you react To the thoughts, I've put out. Putting my heart and soul into them and then getting to watch you kill them

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