“People Write Because No One Listens.”
“People write because no one listens.”
— h.h.
More Posts from Pernicioustawnyrose and Others
They say the truth will set you free, So why am I still here?
God If You Are Above by Falling In Reverse
‘A little broken is still broken,’ I pointed out. 'But fixable.’
The Impossible Knife of Memory, by Laurie Halse Anderson
Maybe we are all crazy, that’s why we search for love in places it can never be found.
4 a.m. thoughts
Eyes like islands in the ocean
The waves of your iris pulling me in
A rip current that can’t be escaped
Sailing toward the whirlpool of your pupil
Drowning in your soul
-These Windows Are Dangerous
Like Phases of the Moon
To my parents I am waxing and To my sister I am waning To many I am new, unseen and mysterious. Never do I fully show myself to those around me…only to those I deem worthy, If I present to you in my full glory you must know you are special, you have been chosen to seem me as I am. I am a complex web of something quite simple, built to forever stand out in space amongst the many planets who demand majority’s attention Overlook but not underestimated, I am like the moon. -For the Outcasts
The turmoil inside me has begun to settle
That should be a good thing
But now I just feel empty
As if the war inside of me has accepted its defeat
But has not lost hope
I see in your eyes your love for her
And your curiosity of me
I feel in your touch the “what if” of taking it further
The want to do it again
But now I’m wondering if I’ve become an experiment
If these feelings are worth pursuing
Or if the only time I am worthy of your affection
Is when we both have something to blame it on
- It’s not real if we aren’t sober
Reminder to everyone! Do it for yourself not because someone else wants you too.❤️
I fell in love with a renegade angel. Whose wings were torn and black.
He’d never say where he was from; Just swore he wouldn’t go back.
His eyes were stolen galaxies,his tears were shooting stars.
And though the stories were left untold I’d never not kiss all of his scars
He was the most perfect thing. My rebel angel on the run
With broken wings And a crooked smile, he must have cultivated from pieces of the sun.
One morning I rose with a lonely black feather Where his benign head would rest.
And felt the clusters of stars he left inside me supernova leaving a black hole, a void inside my chest
~ZiXo// This was supposed to be my love letter to deAngelo but my muse took it another direction….. I shall try again :)
Jughead jones is literally my spirit animal
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/pərˈniSHəs/(adjective)having a harmful effect, especially in a gradual or subtle way.
18 posts