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Literature Text
but really she's a mess, a deep dark mess all scattered around like so many fallen leaves crunching c r u n c h i n g as she steps on them. And she'll tell you she's just tired --no she isn't lying, it's what she tells herself too-- but when the razor blade is in her hand it doesn't really look that way anymore, does it? [No it doesn't, this is when you're supposed to close your eyes and stop looking stop looking stop looking for your own fucking good please just stop looking.] Yes, this is when you're supposed to not notice how much of a complete wreck she is, this is when you're supposed to bask in the illusion that yeah, she cuts herself, sure, but she's holding it together. No worries.
But really, she's a walking disaster always has been always will be. She was last year too, last year when everything was so wonderful and she was bleeding all over the ocean-blue sky splattering the milky-white clouds but oh well, the red helped her see the stars and that was what mattered, right? Who cared about the trees the dirt the rocks the sun the cracks the smiles the sidewalks, as long as she had the stars all to her very own self?
They turned away then, they turned away and pretended they didn't see how far apart all the little pieces were and how desperately her fire was raging. And she pretended she felt whole and completely satisfied with her self-destructive lifestyle. Or maybe she actually was. Who knows.
But you, you aren't turning away. You're looking her straight in the wide panicked eyes and assuring her that no, she is really not okay. And you're holding out a hand to hold onto and a heart to worm into and she can't, oh God, she could never do that to you (so why does she want to?).
And really she's contagious, so keep your distance and walk the fuck away.
But really, she's a walking disaster always has been always will be. She was last year too, last year when everything was so wonderful and she was bleeding all over the ocean-blue sky splattering the milky-white clouds but oh well, the red helped her see the stars and that was what mattered, right? Who cared about the trees the dirt the rocks the sun the cracks the smiles the sidewalks, as long as she had the stars all to her very own self?
They turned away then, they turned away and pretended they didn't see how far apart all the little pieces were and how desperately her fire was raging. And she pretended she felt whole and completely satisfied with her self-destructive lifestyle. Or maybe she actually was. Who knows.
But you, you aren't turning away. You're looking her straight in the wide panicked eyes and assuring her that no, she is really not okay. And you're holding out a hand to hold onto and a heart to worm into and she can't, oh God, she could never do that to you (so why does she want to?).
And really she's contagious, so keep your distance and walk the fuck away.
Literature
We Were Someday
Someday,
When we're done with school,
We'll live together
Someday,
We'll leave this place
And go where nobody knows us
Someday,
Even if I can't,
I'll put a ring on your finger
Someday, we won't have to apologize.
Someday,
When this is all over,
We'll be together always
Someday,
I'll come back to you,
And it'll be just us
Someday, this war will end.
Someday,
I promise,
Everything is going to be all right
We were always
Someday.
Literature
She won't be here tomorrow.
In this world,
there are two kinds of people.
Those who see,
and those who feel.
She is beautiful.
She is too beautiful.
But I wouldn't dare to say.
She has heard it all before.
She already lived it all before.
Yes, I know.
She is beautiful.
And she has the power.
You would not resist.
You will say: "Who is that one?"
I will say: "I don't know!"
It's better that way.
Because she is beautiful,
but she cries.
She always cries.
It's what her smile says.
She had problems.
She has problems.
But for now,
she just wanna burn this place.
Her world is not here.
Not with these people.
She deserves something better
and sh
Literature
didn't i ever tell you
ballerina shoes seethe with dust and i
am lying in the corner on a
spider-web
you spun for me with your dreams
but didn't i tell you,
didn't i ever tell you dreams are lies
and hope is just a fairy tale
it's as dead as happily-ever-after
piano keys dig into the soles of your
feet but you walk on them because
maybe, maybe, the notes will
leak through your dry, hard skin and
give you the music back
but didn't i tell you,
didn't i ever tell you music is a lonely
sound, locked up in a soul-cage
music is trapped by the bones of my heart
guitar strings hang from the ceiling
and snap themselves into your stringy
dark hair, wrenchi
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And really she's grateful but has no way of saying so.
And really, you're all wasting your time. Why don't you just give up on her? She'll (probably) survive.
As you can tell, it's been an interesting day.
And really, you're all wasting your time. Why don't you just give up on her? She'll (probably) survive.
As you can tell, it's been an interesting day.
© 2010 - 2024 towards-eternity
Comments24
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oh, deary.
those people.. are the ones who you should keep close.
i know what this is like, believe it or not.
hang in there.
those people.. are the ones who you should keep close.
i know what this is like, believe it or not.
hang in there.