I don’t know if anybody cares, but clearly by the poetry I’ve written I have issues. Nobody cared to comment, so I guess I’m not cared about at all. I have been told to go die in a hole my sister, my dad has told me that EVERYTHING is my fault, and we won’t even get started on my mom. My family is not abusive in anyway. Just verbally when they’re mad. I have ADD and insomnia. I’m a good kid. I don’t get in trouble. I love God. But for some reason, every time I close my eyes I see the evil that I have done. And regret. I hate myself. I have tried to kill myself by overdose. IT WON’T WORK. I took like 20 ibuprofen, 20 aspirin,3 sleeping pills, and so on. Not all at the same time. I’ve cut myself. Not deep just the edge. I masturbate when I’m stressed or pissed. I don’t know what to do. I mean, I could literally walk in the garage and put a pistol to my head, but I don’t want to scare my parent’s like that. I think I used to play kissing games with my sister when we were little. I saw my dad’s disgusting porno mag when I was 9. I hate myself. HELP! I’ll give more info if I get comments.
My skin was red
In the dark of night.
Cut up, it bled.
No sign of fright.
The pain I was feeling
Felt so real.
To wake in the morning
No sign of heal.
News that break
My heart in two.
I really can’t take
What I have to do.
Someone really close,
Slept and never woke.
The one I love the most,
Formed tears and made me choke.
As the day goes by,
I laugh and sometimes cry.
Oh please! Don’t pick and pry,
Woke to death.
This is in memory of Grandma who passed away in her sleep last night. God help me to not go crazy or suffer. I just know I’m going to break down at some point.
My sister shall no longer suffer the agony because of me. She attacks me with knives, yet I do the same. My strength and anger towards the man digs deep into her soul. My spasmodic behavior takes hold to end her suffering, but I do it with hate towards her NOT him! The tears of love shed like rivers of pain down my red cheeks. The man that made us do this was like a brigand, taking our love for each other and crushing it to from hate. Our love is perennial, yet our hate shines through, as if we are stars. We have never stopped moving with sisterly passion, but our appearance is as if we have not love, but fiery hate. Although I relieved her of my afflictions towards her, the demise of her soul has yet to register with my precious heart. The dagger-like pain shot through my heart and pierced my soul. My being, no longer pure and innocent, has become circumspect with plans for revenge against my kin. Mine own kin has made my connection with my sister irreparable, yet we still communicate, our souls were reprobated to everlasting fidelity. My growing disgust towards the man was taken out upon my sister and yet I have not with held my responsibility for the brutal actions, I partook. I blame the man for my lust, heart-ache, solitude, and depression among other things. My own isolation is due to the deep literature that rests within me. As if, I have been cursed with all the darkness that lurks in evil. This evil is diffused by the one who defies God. Recruiting his followers to make our lives a living hell. Yet by heart I still don’t accept my everliving issues. God puts these dilemmas in front of me to test my strength and ability to overcome such things, but I’ll tell you now, I’ve lost my battle. And when another is presented, I must be stronger or I’ll keep losing.
The cold, dark waters will suffice for my damage,
icy liquid covers my face
slowly climbing down my throat with claws that burn.
Pain no longer runs through my body; only the numbing.
I look beyond the surface and there, shining in my face, is light.
Gracefully I rise. Up from the cruel below to a warm, heavenly place.
The beauty overcomes my blue lips and wet hair, letting the natural color show in my lips and the curls to crinkle.
No longer shall the cold dark waters suffice for my damages, but the glorious haven drown me with love.
Butterflies rise from the lake, born of it through white wings.
The night comes at them like a brigand, but unknowingly they float through the air towards the luminescent moon.
To float far away from home, shall draw blood from their wings
rippling the water; changing what once was so clear to a dark red.
The butterflies are struck by the night and blinded by their own blood, falling deep into the red, to be revived forever more.