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Literature Text
It was always..
Special, the way the sun rose in that direction. Falling shadows on your face, like you were some bird, who had yet to fly.
It was always..
Desirable, when you laughed, then smiled, as the world was something miraculous. Living being free.
It was always..
Soothing, when you spoke, it was easy to see colors escape your lips. Dance around your face, make everybody's day.
It was kind of..
Uncomfortable when you started missing school. Like messing up that one note in an orchestra carrying many.
It was kind of..
Repetitive, when I'd see you with all those sluts. Self preservation trapped behind those eyes.
It was kind of..
Sad, when I saw that joint raise to your lips. Abnormal like a story with no letters, or a clock empty of numbers.
It was very..
Frighting, when you hit me that one ironic day. Hurt never felt so easy, lost and carelessness spilled forth.
It was very..
Disappointing, when you only used me for certain things. Unwanted, but I accepted, just to have your heart.
It was very..
Tearful, when you told me you hated me, and couldn't care less. Shrugging off was common, as average as life seemed to be.
You were always..
Certain, that life was set this day, and that you were to make so many mistakes. Delivered and donated.
You were kind of..
Greedy, in a sense, wanted so much more, more than your life before. Attending the expected social circle.
You were very..
Persuasive, in a sense, to help and then ignore, with none but just a scratch. Only because you made it happen.
I was always..
Attached, I was yours and you we're mine; we never could let go despite the change. The changing that will end.
I was kind of..
Obsessed, with the person who had never truly loved me; only because coming back was regular. I was there to wait.
I was very..
Hopeful, knowing this will end. Imagining the year before, as close as I imagined yesterday.
Literature
The Paper Bleeds
I run to my room.
The anger will boil over soon.
I lock the door,
Fall to the floor.
The glittering pen rests before my sight.
I'm falling again tonight.
Pleasure is turning.
My arm is burning.
Sweet release.
I need your peace.
The paper bleeds with crimson ink.
We fought again.
The wounds won't mend.
I was driven back,
To the strength I lack.
Clean for a week.
But without a voice to speak,
The crimson ink called to me.
The paper bleeds.
Pleasure is turning.
My arm is burning.
Sweet release.
I need your peace.
The paper bleeds with crimson ink.
We fought again.
The wounds won't mend.
I was driven back,
To the streng
Literature
Ink From Paper To Wrist
So many broken promises
Lie under the surface of artificial smiles
And if you could just see under her sleeves
You'd see into her heart for miles
One wrist is hectic
One wrist cut straight
The first symbolizes love
The second represents her hate
She misses having a purpose
Even when the purpose was pain
Because now she can't cry anymore
And has no reason to dance in the rain
She swore she'd fight this demon
So she threw the razor away
So now the cuts can't get deeper
And the demons gone for another day.
Literature
Why Does It Have to be You?
Yes, yes, I know.
This is a mistake...
loving you, that is.
Yes, I know last time it ended badly,
but can I deny my heart of what
it truly wants?
I try, darling,
really I do.
But I'm addicted to you.
Love is a curse - binding me to the depths of hell...
all because its unrequited?
How is that fair?
You light up my world
and make me smile.
It's an impressing feat these days.
I blush when I read your texts.
I smile when I send one back,
blushing, of course.
Why are you the one that races through my mind?
Why are you the one invading my dreams?
And most of all...
Why do I still love you?
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