If life is a cold, harsh night
You are the moon that makes it bearable
For what other thing would thrive?
Even in the most monstrous forms of dark?
If to love is to rest
Then I will perceive death for you.
For what greater form of rest do we know?
Than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?
If to long is to grieve
Then I shall make home of a funeral
For what harsher grief it is?
Than to irreversibly lose someone
I wish I was religious so atleast I could pray to something.
But I talk to god and the sky is empty.
For nothing can restore my faith,
This is not the world I wish to live in.
I wish I was what my parents wanted me to be.
But I look in the mirror and I am empty.
Nothing can restore my self,
This is not the body I wish to be in.
I scream and cry and yell at you to have given me this life.
Birthed me ugly,broken,tarnished and useless.
Ruined me and made me hate myself.
But what right do I have to blame you or anyone else?
For no one has been as cruel to me,
As I have been to myself.
You didn't ruin me; I just hate myself.
If to love is to rest then I will perceive death for you.
For what greater form of rest do we know than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?
Tw: self harm
Autumn still
The spring air is filled with laughter and serenity.
Not something to be tainted with my goddamn tragedy.
But I am alone and my wrist is bleeding.
Despair surrounds me like death to the grieving.
I don't know peace; I perhaps never will.
For my disconsolate existence it is autumn still.
Pic via pinterest
Tw: self harm, self loathing
A girl lies on her bedroom floor.
She bleeds through her eyes and cries through her veins.
I watch her helplessly and let her fall apart.
Everyday she fights long lost battles and dies gruesome deaths.
Her life is nothing but a grave full of dead hopes.
I watch her and do nothing.
Perhaps because there isn't much left of her to be saved.
She is covered in bruises I don't recognize her anymore.
I watch her with curiosity.
Her eyes dark and cold like the night itself, she reeks of misery.
A home full of ghosts, none of them remotedly as dead as her soul.
I watch her mercilessly.
After all that's what monsters like her deserve.
I say, and I stop watching her.
No part of her deserves to be loved.
I say, and I step away from the mirror.
There is love in my mother's disapproval.
It is there in the way she looks at me,
The way she loathes my existence.
It's not visible but it's there.
There is love in my father's resentment.
It is there in the way he talks to me,
The way he is ashamed of me.
It's not apparent but it's there.
There is love in my family.
It is there in broken dreams.
It is there in domestic scars.
So much love that you almost mistake it for hate.
Dear universe
At 13 I thought that the universe hates me. For it made me tainted and it made me unlovable. Perhaps it was true; or perhaps I was just 13. Now I finally see that there are things that actually love me.
The darkness holds me still and grief kisses my hand. The demons in my head tell me it'll be fine. And hunger kind of always stays along with this unbearable ache. Longing lingers like a lonely child and sinister thoughts eat me up inside. Years of misery and wishing to be dead. Screams of terror and weeps of fate. But dear universe I wont complain. For dear universe I still am loved.
What is family if not hate disguised as love
Tw: self harm, ed
Alternate universe
In an alternate universe,
I am 14 and alone in my room,
And my hands haven't harmed myself yet.
In an alternate universe,
My mom isn't emotionally dead,
And my dad isn't the monster yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still have her by my side,
I haven't screwed everything yet.
In an alternate universe,
I don't flinch when I look in the mirror,
There are no scars on my thighs yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still eat like a normal person,
I haven't ruined myself yet.
You were scared to ruin me
I assured you that you wouldn't
The unsaid truth was this:
I was already ruined
Long before I met you
Long before I knew how to love
And even before you became my home
.
But you left and it felt like death
Everyone said I'd get used to it
The cruel desire was this:
I don't want to get used to you
I don't want time to heal me
I always want you to be
An unbearable ache that kills me
.
My mind is being held hostage by you
And even in grief you feel like home
The maddening question is this:
Will you love the monster in me?
Will you love me at the end of the world?
Will you simply just love me?
Thorn to my rose
Pic via pinterest
In a room full of strangers, our eyes met in secrecy.
With that striking smile of yours, you simply just ended me.
Gently whispered words killed me more than any poison could.
Loved you way too fondly than any lover ever should.
In frightened voice and shaky hands, I was scared to lose you.
In granted lives and afterlife, I was never meant to have you.
What is life anymore, if not just the absence of you?
Had to watch you bleed to death, what is even left to lose?
Once again in life I am terrified to let you close.
You were my known ruin. A lethal thorn, my gentle rose.
The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
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