It crawls across your skin and seeps inside the jagged cuts across your body,
Seeping through and drifting round your body with every lub-dub beat,
Coatong red and white with sticky black and sludge grey until you cannot bear to breathe for fear of moving hate around your being.
You despise yourself and you are worthless to everyone but no-one,
There is lonliness in your lungs and emptiness in your heart as the darkness moves ever faster and hurts ever more,
Wraps itself around your throat and strangles you with it's tight grip,
So you cannot speak the truth that the dark lies cause.
Nothing can help and no-one will know as you suffocate inside your own mind,
As you drown under the waves of your own sorrow
Looking up towards the sky and praying for redemtion that will never arrive,
And it doesn't.
You are all alone, left with those evil stares and harsh words that snake across your skin like spiderwebs,
It doesn't hurt any less,
It doesn't hurt any more.
For everything is numb, when you have nothing or no-one.
My writing/poetry but it doens't always rhyme. Basically just about life and me and stuff =]
Responsibility
And it's all her fault. Everything. Always.
Every day she does something she never realised she did. Makes mess and takes the blame, uses everything and takes the blame, breaks things, hurts people take the blame for everything. It's easier than to fight back. Because they fight harder, harsher, better.
She's only young and the weight of the world rest's on ehr shoulders, she's doing handstand's in Australia carry up the entire world in her two tiny palms. Her soft pale hands that have caused so much hurt and mess and hatred inside others towards herself.
Who would've know all those years she was alone she was really doing everything else, really destroying eveyone else's lives by just living hers. By just exsisting and breathing she made theirs so much worse.
The wish she makes eveytime it turns 11:11, to never be born. To run away. To just stop everything. The hurt inside her heart, the hatred she forces into others and the dissapointment inside her saviour. God.
She makes the Monster cry even though it's the Monster that makes her hurt and bleed. She makes the Basilisk feel unworthy even though he put's the bruises on her skin. She makes the Dinosaur angry even though he forces the doubt inside of her head.
He put's it there but it's all her fault.
Fat. Ugly. Useless. Your fault. Stop. Look what you've done. Clean it up. Look what you've done. It's all your fault.
Everything that's ever happened anywhere is her fault.
And she let's those ancient stars and moving waves rest on her weakened shoulders just so she doesn't have to use her voice. Just so she doesn't have to say the words that would disagree and shine the light on her hidden truths.
So she stays quiet. And everything is her fault.
And all her faults are hers and all everyone else's are hers.
Until the day comes when she can shrug her shoulders and watch her world come tumbling down.
And not give a shit.
Every day she does something she never realised she did. Makes mess and takes the blame, uses everything and takes the blame, breaks things, hurts people take the blame for everything. It's easier than to fight back. Because they fight harder, harsher, better.
She's only young and the weight of the world rest's on ehr shoulders, she's doing handstand's in Australia carry up the entire world in her two tiny palms. Her soft pale hands that have caused so much hurt and mess and hatred inside others towards herself.
Who would've know all those years she was alone she was really doing everything else, really destroying eveyone else's lives by just living hers. By just exsisting and breathing she made theirs so much worse.
The wish she makes eveytime it turns 11:11, to never be born. To run away. To just stop everything. The hurt inside her heart, the hatred she forces into others and the dissapointment inside her saviour. God.
She makes the Monster cry even though it's the Monster that makes her hurt and bleed. She makes the Basilisk feel unworthy even though he put's the bruises on her skin. She makes the Dinosaur angry even though he forces the doubt inside of her head.
He put's it there but it's all her fault.
Fat. Ugly. Useless. Your fault. Stop. Look what you've done. Clean it up. Look what you've done. It's all your fault.
Everything that's ever happened anywhere is her fault.
And she let's those ancient stars and moving waves rest on her weakened shoulders just so she doesn't have to use her voice. Just so she doesn't have to say the words that would disagree and shine the light on her hidden truths.
So she stays quiet. And everything is her fault.
And all her faults are hers and all everyone else's are hers.
Until the day comes when she can shrug her shoulders and watch her world come tumbling down.
And not give a shit.
The Happiest Pretenders
We all do it.
That's why we're here. Those less-than-half-hearted laughs and tilting curve smiles that give away nothing and hide everything. Hide away the pain we all go through together. We are all together in our hurt and our lies and our hidden truths and those sunshine glimmers of hope that we latch on to as tightly as we can.
We all think the same.
We are God's forgotten children, his unruly brothers and sisters that will never stop making noise. You should be seen and not heard. We are the Devil's sacred ones, reveling in the hurt and pain he gives us when we are banished from the holy land of eternal happiness. Even just for a day.
Just for one day that's all we ask. All we ever wanted.
To be the golden child for one day when it was so important. To not be forgotten or neglected or left behind in that giant carpark at the zoo.
Other children's names are called over the tannoy, someone is looking for their lost little soul but it's never our name that is called out.
Never someone who is reaching out to find us.
This is it.
This is our hope and loss and regret and pain and it is all typed into a few words that mean so much to so many.
We are all the same here.
And we are loved here.
They just don't understand yet.
But here, everyone understands.
Come into the light, and we will bathe you in the warmth of recovery and happiness.
That's why we're here. Those less-than-half-hearted laughs and tilting curve smiles that give away nothing and hide everything. Hide away the pain we all go through together. We are all together in our hurt and our lies and our hidden truths and those sunshine glimmers of hope that we latch on to as tightly as we can.
We all think the same.
We are God's forgotten children, his unruly brothers and sisters that will never stop making noise. You should be seen and not heard. We are the Devil's sacred ones, reveling in the hurt and pain he gives us when we are banished from the holy land of eternal happiness. Even just for a day.
Just for one day that's all we ask. All we ever wanted.
To be the golden child for one day when it was so important. To not be forgotten or neglected or left behind in that giant carpark at the zoo.
Other children's names are called over the tannoy, someone is looking for their lost little soul but it's never our name that is called out.
Never someone who is reaching out to find us.
This is it.
This is our hope and loss and regret and pain and it is all typed into a few words that mean so much to so many.
We are all the same here.
And we are loved here.
They just don't understand yet.
But here, everyone understands.
Come into the light, and we will bathe you in the warmth of recovery and happiness.
A Mother's Love
And she has returned.
Only now she's home. Only now she sit's alone upstairs reading and getting lost in her own little world that she loves so much.
She's so young and her imaginary games become real, become fun and happy and better than the real world.
And it's time to grow up, to stop with the little girl's games and the barbie dolls. They're packed away into boxes under her bed where the monster lives and in the closer where the monster lives.
Mummy moans and whine's when she makes a mess with all her dollies and toys when she's too old to play with them. Time to grow up. Time to go out and have fun.
So she does. She plays next door with two girl's a lot younger and they have lot's of doll's and toy's and imaginery games to play. And she has fun.
Stays 'till the little one's bedtime's and then rushes home to carry on herself. To continue in this other world where she lives alone.
Mummy drives her home in the car after school and she's silent. Doesn't want to speak, her head is racing with her imaginery man and he's running alongside the car and she's smiling and her Mummy ruins everything by asking why she's smiling.
So she stops.
Waits until she's in her room to play with her dream friend when Mummy's turned to Mother and Mum and she goes out with her friends whilst she stays at home with her only one.
Hatred towards everyone else turns to hatred towards Mum who becomes Monster.
Who shouts and raves and rages and hurts with words sharper than the blade she uses to show everyone she doesn't need it.
Doesn't need you to punish her anymore because she already does it enough herself.
And Monster's mad that she doesn't want to take her bath after playing with the little one's next door. So she does it herself, pushes her under and scrubs whilst she can't breathe. Monster scrubs and scrubs and pushes harder till her head smacks the tub and she still can't breathe.
Then monster is gone and she's wrapped up in her big disney beach towel with the bathroom door locked and her not there friend talking to her, helping her, loving her.
Monster stays Monster as little girl becomes young woman. Love friend stays the same as always and she stops talking to the little one's next door. She's too old for them now. Too old to play silly little games with even sillier little girls but she still wants too.
Monster get's angrier and angrier until Daddy Dinosaur joins in.
Freak. Weirdo. Get a life. Go outside. Not normal. Not normal. Not normal. We're gunna have to send you to someone. Not normal.
And she takes it still 'cause she has her oldest friend. Even though he watches her hurt herself he stays beside and always loves.
And she loves him and hates them.
Brother Basilisk snips and bites and hurts and she still has him and says nothing.
Time goes by and family loves/hates more and more. Harsher and harsher until she turns to him, turns to her never changing friend and stays with him. Doesn't care if she's weird or crazy or they say things she stays with him.
They'll be gone soon.
She'll be gone soon.
Just two more years 'till she's home free.
Only now she's home. Only now she sit's alone upstairs reading and getting lost in her own little world that she loves so much.
She's so young and her imaginary games become real, become fun and happy and better than the real world.
And it's time to grow up, to stop with the little girl's games and the barbie dolls. They're packed away into boxes under her bed where the monster lives and in the closer where the monster lives.
Mummy moans and whine's when she makes a mess with all her dollies and toys when she's too old to play with them. Time to grow up. Time to go out and have fun.
So she does. She plays next door with two girl's a lot younger and they have lot's of doll's and toy's and imaginery games to play. And she has fun.
Stays 'till the little one's bedtime's and then rushes home to carry on herself. To continue in this other world where she lives alone.
Mummy drives her home in the car after school and she's silent. Doesn't want to speak, her head is racing with her imaginery man and he's running alongside the car and she's smiling and her Mummy ruins everything by asking why she's smiling.
So she stops.
Waits until she's in her room to play with her dream friend when Mummy's turned to Mother and Mum and she goes out with her friends whilst she stays at home with her only one.
Hatred towards everyone else turns to hatred towards Mum who becomes Monster.
Who shouts and raves and rages and hurts with words sharper than the blade she uses to show everyone she doesn't need it.
Doesn't need you to punish her anymore because she already does it enough herself.
And Monster's mad that she doesn't want to take her bath after playing with the little one's next door. So she does it herself, pushes her under and scrubs whilst she can't breathe. Monster scrubs and scrubs and pushes harder till her head smacks the tub and she still can't breathe.
Then monster is gone and she's wrapped up in her big disney beach towel with the bathroom door locked and her not there friend talking to her, helping her, loving her.
Monster stays Monster as little girl becomes young woman. Love friend stays the same as always and she stops talking to the little one's next door. She's too old for them now. Too old to play silly little games with even sillier little girls but she still wants too.
Monster get's angrier and angrier until Daddy Dinosaur joins in.
Freak. Weirdo. Get a life. Go outside. Not normal. Not normal. Not normal. We're gunna have to send you to someone. Not normal.
And she takes it still 'cause she has her oldest friend. Even though he watches her hurt herself he stays beside and always loves.
And she loves him and hates them.
Brother Basilisk snips and bites and hurts and she still has him and says nothing.
Time goes by and family loves/hates more and more. Harsher and harsher until she turns to him, turns to her never changing friend and stays with him. Doesn't care if she's weird or crazy or they say things she stays with him.
They'll be gone soon.
She'll be gone soon.
Just two more years 'till she's home free.
And She Sits Alone
Everything's fine and normal and happy, just an ordinary kid. And then she get's clever, then she get's unpopular because the other girls are supposedly jealous. They say things and she says nothing. Just sits and takes it and pretends the words they say don't hurt. Pretends it doesn't matter and it's not true but inside her head it feels like it is. Suddenly everything becomes clear and they're right. They're all right.
Freak. Weirdo. Fat. Ugly. Everything, it's all right but she never says it.
She grows up a little more this constant doubt and lack of confidence or assurance in anything. She stays quite in her classes, stays quite with her friends and family and says nothing to nobody about anything. She wears that tilted smile and everyone thinks it's real. She hands those perfect grades like a chain around her neck to show she's okay, but really they're shackles around her feet.
Time goes by more and people say harsher things. She starts to hurt inside when everyone says things. And so she eats a little. And it feels good. It feels so good she can't stop until she's thrown up.
And then other girls still don't like her, but now the boys hate her too. Say names, sing songs about monster's coming over the hill and that it's her and she just sits there, at the back desk on her own, because her friends aren't in that class. And they wouldn't sit with her anyway.
And then she crack-breaks. She snaps her ruler and the floodgates break and they all see, and it makes it worse. They all laugh that she's so weak after so long of trying so hard to hide it all away.
The taunting carries on only now at home too. Too quiet. Punches from older brother and abusive words from parents. Freak. Loser. Weirdo. Get a life.
And she grows older again. And everyone still hates her, even her friends leave her out as if she doesn't exsist. And then someone cuts her. Someone slices her face with scissors and suddenly everyone's sorry for one day. But the next is back to normal.
More and more each day she get's quieter, she hurts more inside and that muscle inside of her chest beats slower and slower as it dies out from lack of love.
Another year passes and she's left her old friends behind. Finally found someone who likes her for her and everything's almost good. But parents are still mean and brothers still hit and bullies still say mean things and she still get's lost in her own little world just to escape the pain of the real one.
And then her friend hurts her. Leaves her out and makes everything her fault and she's alone again. Sit's alone in class and just tag's along with her friends who don't really care.
Don't notice how suddenly she get's changed in the stalls and never takes her jumper off.
How they've never seen anything more than face and hands.
She gets home and goes straight upstairs and says nothing to no-one. Sits alone in that upstairs room and says nothing to no-one but her friend who isn't real to anybody else.
And she spends more and more time in the bathroom before her shower. Razor's edge becomes blunt quicker and quicker and her leg's and stomach are in shreds. The red washes down the drain and she hides it away from her parents. Hide's it away but they never notice and never care.
A little bit longer and she tells her new friend. She tells her she's done something she shouldn't have but doesn't regret it. And her friend is confused and she doesn't say anything else.
And she's getting changed again and they are looking at her, looking at the red lines across her legs that she try's to hide. They are looking at the bloody scars that she doesn't want them to see.
More and more time and more and more space and she's running out. She has to use her arm. Wears hoodies and jumpers and long sleeves around the house so no-one notices. Takes in jackets for PE at school and never takes her cardigan off, even in summer. On mufti day's she wear baggy tee's that come way down and hide everything.
And they still say things. They don't notice that she reaches toward's the double edged sword everytime they speak. Don't care about the consequences of their actions. A broken soul.
Everyone pitching in their share like tents at festivals until she is completely full of their drunken hatred that she has to push them out, push them off and away through jagged scarlet rows.
And then they find out. Her parents see and ask questions and she says it's stress. Just strees and they say nothing more. Everything is forgotten but everytime she steps inside the bathroom her eyes glance straight to the cabinet that holds her tools.
She promised she wouldn't do it again but promises are made to be broken.
And it get's worse, she doesn't cut but she bumps and thumps and whacks and walks into things. Trips, and slips and stumbles on purpose. But then he comes.
Her forgotten friend that no-one else knows and she loves him and he listens when she speaks and he wraps his arms around her shattered body holding her together. Holding her whole.
And she stops.
Stops everything.
But she doesn't eat. Wants to be thin and pretty like all the other girls and so just stays quiet and doesn't eat. And she likes that empty feeling in her stomach that matches the one inside her chest.
She loves it.
She needs it.
Just like she need's her always there friend.
And it hurts a little less in her chest when her stomach hurts a lot more. And they say things still and they look and stare but she does nothing. She sits alone and knows that someday everything will be fine. She'll be thin and pretty and perfect.
But for now, she's just a fat, ugly, loser.
Freak. Weirdo. Fat. Ugly. Everything, it's all right but she never says it.
She grows up a little more this constant doubt and lack of confidence or assurance in anything. She stays quite in her classes, stays quite with her friends and family and says nothing to nobody about anything. She wears that tilted smile and everyone thinks it's real. She hands those perfect grades like a chain around her neck to show she's okay, but really they're shackles around her feet.
Time goes by more and people say harsher things. She starts to hurt inside when everyone says things. And so she eats a little. And it feels good. It feels so good she can't stop until she's thrown up.
And then other girls still don't like her, but now the boys hate her too. Say names, sing songs about monster's coming over the hill and that it's her and she just sits there, at the back desk on her own, because her friends aren't in that class. And they wouldn't sit with her anyway.
And then she crack-breaks. She snaps her ruler and the floodgates break and they all see, and it makes it worse. They all laugh that she's so weak after so long of trying so hard to hide it all away.
The taunting carries on only now at home too. Too quiet. Punches from older brother and abusive words from parents. Freak. Loser. Weirdo. Get a life.
And she grows older again. And everyone still hates her, even her friends leave her out as if she doesn't exsist. And then someone cuts her. Someone slices her face with scissors and suddenly everyone's sorry for one day. But the next is back to normal.
More and more each day she get's quieter, she hurts more inside and that muscle inside of her chest beats slower and slower as it dies out from lack of love.
Another year passes and she's left her old friends behind. Finally found someone who likes her for her and everything's almost good. But parents are still mean and brothers still hit and bullies still say mean things and she still get's lost in her own little world just to escape the pain of the real one.
And then her friend hurts her. Leaves her out and makes everything her fault and she's alone again. Sit's alone in class and just tag's along with her friends who don't really care.
Don't notice how suddenly she get's changed in the stalls and never takes her jumper off.
How they've never seen anything more than face and hands.
She gets home and goes straight upstairs and says nothing to no-one. Sits alone in that upstairs room and says nothing to no-one but her friend who isn't real to anybody else.
And she spends more and more time in the bathroom before her shower. Razor's edge becomes blunt quicker and quicker and her leg's and stomach are in shreds. The red washes down the drain and she hides it away from her parents. Hide's it away but they never notice and never care.
A little bit longer and she tells her new friend. She tells her she's done something she shouldn't have but doesn't regret it. And her friend is confused and she doesn't say anything else.
And she's getting changed again and they are looking at her, looking at the red lines across her legs that she try's to hide. They are looking at the bloody scars that she doesn't want them to see.
More and more time and more and more space and she's running out. She has to use her arm. Wears hoodies and jumpers and long sleeves around the house so no-one notices. Takes in jackets for PE at school and never takes her cardigan off, even in summer. On mufti day's she wear baggy tee's that come way down and hide everything.
And they still say things. They don't notice that she reaches toward's the double edged sword everytime they speak. Don't care about the consequences of their actions. A broken soul.
Everyone pitching in their share like tents at festivals until she is completely full of their drunken hatred that she has to push them out, push them off and away through jagged scarlet rows.
And then they find out. Her parents see and ask questions and she says it's stress. Just strees and they say nothing more. Everything is forgotten but everytime she steps inside the bathroom her eyes glance straight to the cabinet that holds her tools.
She promised she wouldn't do it again but promises are made to be broken.
And it get's worse, she doesn't cut but she bumps and thumps and whacks and walks into things. Trips, and slips and stumbles on purpose. But then he comes.
Her forgotten friend that no-one else knows and she loves him and he listens when she speaks and he wraps his arms around her shattered body holding her together. Holding her whole.
And she stops.
Stops everything.
But she doesn't eat. Wants to be thin and pretty like all the other girls and so just stays quiet and doesn't eat. And she likes that empty feeling in her stomach that matches the one inside her chest.
She loves it.
She needs it.
Just like she need's her always there friend.
And it hurts a little less in her chest when her stomach hurts a lot more. And they say things still and they look and stare but she does nothing. She sits alone and knows that someday everything will be fine. She'll be thin and pretty and perfect.
But for now, she's just a fat, ugly, loser.
Missing Piece
Did you ever feel that when God created you he left something out.
That's why your chest feels so empty and you can never feel true love or happiness. It's why everyone hates you because you're the odd one out. You don't have the same shoes, they're all in steel-toed boots and your in flimsy pumps.
You never even realised it was missing, just thought it was life. Just thought everyone felt that hurt the same as you do. That ache in your chest when you see other people so happy and know you could never have that.
Know you could travel across the edge of the flat world and tumble through the universe skies and never find that one thing that you need.
A soul. A heart full of gold and precious jewles in the form of love and happiness.
That everyone else has in treasure troves locked with the key for only one to open. The key to their heart. And you don't even have a lock.
Where it hurts to talk to people because you're nothing like them, you don't want to hurt them and bring them down because you don't have the same as everyone else.
You're so different and you'll never ever find that missing piece.
And your life is just an unfinished jigsaw.
Until you get packed away into a box and buried in the ground.
Heaven is so far away and there's only one thing you need to get passed the man at the door.
Love.
And you have none and you'll never get in, you'll never find that. And the rest of your eternity is just like the empty space between the stars.
Loneliness is the curse of a broken heart.
That's why your chest feels so empty and you can never feel true love or happiness. It's why everyone hates you because you're the odd one out. You don't have the same shoes, they're all in steel-toed boots and your in flimsy pumps.
You never even realised it was missing, just thought it was life. Just thought everyone felt that hurt the same as you do. That ache in your chest when you see other people so happy and know you could never have that.
Know you could travel across the edge of the flat world and tumble through the universe skies and never find that one thing that you need.
A soul. A heart full of gold and precious jewles in the form of love and happiness.
That everyone else has in treasure troves locked with the key for only one to open. The key to their heart. And you don't even have a lock.
Where it hurts to talk to people because you're nothing like them, you don't want to hurt them and bring them down because you don't have the same as everyone else.
You're so different and you'll never ever find that missing piece.
And your life is just an unfinished jigsaw.
Until you get packed away into a box and buried in the ground.
Heaven is so far away and there's only one thing you need to get passed the man at the door.
Love.
And you have none and you'll never get in, you'll never find that. And the rest of your eternity is just like the empty space between the stars.
Loneliness is the curse of a broken heart.
Again And Again
Little lost girl sits alone and says nothing. Doesn't fight back to the raging dinosaur that roars and shouts and hurts with words like the razor that cuts her skin.
Stomps and smashes and everything is broken, her fragile heart shattered and her weak body shaking as sobs tear from her chest the way pain was hurled from his.
He leaves and she stays quiet, nothing can be heard but the whimper-cries of a little girls hurt. Of a lost child’s loneliness.
His words float around the room until she is sucking them in with her shuddered breaths and they stay inside her lungs until they are pushing out and moving everywhere. Pumping through her veins as the truth that hurts runs through them.
Tortured mind starts to believe frequent words that are always said. Always stabbing.
Fat. Ugly. Weirdo. Freak. Fat. Fat. Fat.
Liquid love seeps from her eyes and dampens the cotton beneath her face, where she rests upon her pillow. And her body curls up tight and hides away its shame from the rest of the world.
Fat. Fat. Fat.
And they stab and prick and slice just as deep as the lines that scatter her broken body.
To match her crack-break heart.
Distorted
Children's games of seeing things that aren't there.
Fun fair mirrors become your only view to your salvation.
Fat. Fat. So much fat.
Thin becomes thick and brick wall.
Average becomes monstrous and hideous.
Those buckled bones and clawing hands the only tool for redemption.
Pointed fingers enter and life comes gushing forth, flushed down and away like the hatred inside.
Thin. Must be thin.
Jagged edges cut and scar and bleed away hurtful words and hate filled glances.
Wash away.
And there is that one moment.
When there is burning and blood at which point the twisted glass crumbles to sand.
And it doesn't matter.
It hurts but it doesn't matter because you have it.
You are holding bones inside your hands when they are placed on your body.
And you don't care that blood is stained and skin is strained across it all.
It is prominent and it is thin.
And you are finally pretty.
But everyone else just sees a troubled little girl.
Trapped inside the dragons cave.
Revelling in the burn of the fire.
Because she deserves it.
Because she is so fat, she can see all her bones.
Fun fair mirrors become your only view to your salvation.
Fat. Fat. So much fat.
Thin becomes thick and brick wall.
Average becomes monstrous and hideous.
Those buckled bones and clawing hands the only tool for redemption.
Pointed fingers enter and life comes gushing forth, flushed down and away like the hatred inside.
Thin. Must be thin.
Jagged edges cut and scar and bleed away hurtful words and hate filled glances.
Wash away.
And there is that one moment.
When there is burning and blood at which point the twisted glass crumbles to sand.
And it doesn't matter.
It hurts but it doesn't matter because you have it.
You are holding bones inside your hands when they are placed on your body.
And you don't care that blood is stained and skin is strained across it all.
It is prominent and it is thin.
And you are finally pretty.
But everyone else just sees a troubled little girl.
Trapped inside the dragons cave.
Revelling in the burn of the fire.
Because she deserves it.
Because she is so fat, she can see all her bones.
Life Isn't Always A Fairytale
Blood burns like fire across ice-white skin,
Melding into softest stone until pure snow becomes tainted,
Seven dwarfs are no-where to be found as she chews her poison slowly,
Savouring in the acid sting that travels across her tongue and slips down her throat,
Strangling her from the inside out as she chokes on her own truth.
Time turns to stone as she is frozen in the loneliness,
Love and magic disappear to leave behind torn rags and bare feet,
Her heart is heavy inside her chest and filled with the hateful words from those around her,
Walking across broken cobbles to match her tainted soul,
Dragging her smashed pumpkin across the dirty floor.
The Beast reflects inside her mirror as she wipes her mouth clean,
Rose's prickled with thorns that swipe across her zebra skin and down her acid throat,
Dancing plates float around and taunt the thing she wants the most,
The Beast is trapped inside her newly empty stomach,
And he growls louder and louder as she doesn't give in.
Flame red hair matches striped lines on her left forearm,
She drowns herself under the waves of regret,
Wishing for that voice to speak up and be heard,
Twisted and tricked by the demon inside until she has lost it all,
Only gaining more places to scar with a three edged sword.
She tumbles through her rabbit hole,
Sucked inside so deep she can't escape,
Looking for a quick salvation to get away from unwanted dreams,
Swallowing down all she sees to find the right solution,
As she grows smaller and smaller to a place where she no longer matters.
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