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Literature Text
Sometimes
She sits on the roof before the birds are up but
Long after the coyotes stop howling and
Pretends she’s profound
Because she can think ugly thoughts and
Hate herself without having to
Get drunk first.
She likes to believe that
The night hides her scars and
The humidity frays the knots and the
Nots in her stomach,
But the moon’s rather bright when
Compared to her past and
Even her footsteps seem to radiate radiation
When she’s trying to run away.
She’s as light as a feather but
She’s drawn to the dark because
It turns out not eating
Slows you down
Skins you down to the bone
And you learn to
Make friends with the things
That once scared you.
(She’s not afraid of much of anything anymore,
But that girl in the mirror
Still sends shivers down her spine
Sometimes.)
She sits on the roof before the birds are up but
Long after the coyotes stop howling and
Pretends she’s profound
Because she can think ugly thoughts and
Hate herself without having to
Get drunk first.
She likes to believe that
The night hides her scars and
The humidity frays the knots and the
Nots in her stomach,
But the moon’s rather bright when
Compared to her past and
Even her footsteps seem to radiate radiation
When she’s trying to run away.
She’s as light as a feather but
She’s drawn to the dark because
It turns out not eating
Slows you down
Skins you down to the bone
And you learn to
Make friends with the things
That once scared you.
(She’s not afraid of much of anything anymore,
But that girl in the mirror
Still sends shivers down her spine
Sometimes.)
Literature
Accept your Candle, Weep for the Stars
A light I see, far off in the distance. It's a star, I told myself.
No other thought surpassed it, I want to reach it.
I struggle in the darkness, slowly heading for it, not knowing, not thinking.
I know this is what I want. I want the star.
It gets brighter, I can feel its warm touch, though I'm far from it.
Joy overwhelms my soul, I'm so close, so close to
my star. It's my star and nothing else matters.
I reach with my fingers, to touch it.
A candle. A lowly candle, my thoughts shattered.
This is not what I wanted. It's not my star.
I blink, and blink again, I see clearly. Up above.
There are hundreds, no millions of stars.
Why
Literature
dear depression,
(master of the umbra)
i hate you.
broken whispers, lonely promises,
you are the worst of lovers, owning all, but
never seeming to be satisfied
even with your name branded scarlet into my wrists.
i am no longer the golden songbird as when you first met me,
but yet
you still hang onto me
your claws
raking across my heart like
my pen ripping across the bloodstained page, like
lightning across the skies, (vengeance
raining down from the gods i used to believe in)
"don't let them catch you,"
you breathed into my ears.
an ounce of life, in exchange for a cloak of darkness (i thought i'd only stay one night)
the fog was sluggish and deep.
so bl
Literature
I Am My Own Queen
I don't need you,
Like you want me to,
I'm not left in-between.
My heart is mine,
My soul is fine,
I am my own queen.
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With remedies like these,
She's her own worst enemy.(art trade with KgvMasters on the mutual theme of night. See his link on my page and below!)
kgvmasters.deviantart.com/art/…
© 2014 - 2024 SerenadeTheAsylum
Comments11
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The humidity frays the knots and the
Nots in her stomach,
But the moon’s rather bright when
Compared to her past and
Even her footsteps seem to radiate radiation
When she’s trying to run away.
This is amazing! I already know I should watch you from this
Nots in her stomach,
But the moon’s rather bright when
Compared to her past and
Even her footsteps seem to radiate radiation
When she’s trying to run away.
This is amazing! I already know I should watch you from this