Tuesday, 26 June 2012


Not a poem here.
But at the start of my posts there seem to be a highlighted section.
Can anyone figure it out?

Mirror, mirror

Mirror, mirror, on my wall,

I just want to be thin, pretty and tall.

Mirror, mirror, if I change my hair,
maybe someone will start to care?

Mirror, mirror, if I starve myself,
at least I'll be beautiful, nevermind my health.

Mirror, mirror, if I cut my wrist,
will I feel like I exist?

Mirror, mirror, don't you see?
what you show is ruining me.

Far too long it had watched her cry,
so the mirror decided to reply.

What you think you see, it isn't true,
the misery is found inside of you.

Don't lock yourself in a broken soul
or I promise you, one day, you'll lose control.

The Song

A hymn, a song, sung by angels,

Supposedly divine, a chorus echoes.
Resonating words, repeated each;
Peace and love, love and peace.

Battered wings, lining the pews,
Heaven or hell, they can choose,
The song, the hymn, sung in fear
Brainwashed white, they cry silent tears.

The rebellious angels cast out of heaven,
Called rude names, "exiled", "heathen",
They opposed the song and their ways,
Giving up paradise to live free days.

But no, guilt weighs their torn up wings,
Down to earth, like lightning they fling,
Cursed to bleed forever without,
Strive on, eternally, no time to pout.

Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts,
Not of battles and bloody wars fought.
To be yourself comes at a price,
A cost too high most might think thrice.

But these young saints grab with both hands,
The eagerness with which the rules they bend,
To add vibrant colour to alabaster stains,
Disregarding all the pain.

And so you see, the song is so,
A timely chorus, a perfect flow,
Washed with saline tears,
Drowning beneath their own fears.

Angels sing for one single reason,
Far worse than being accused for treason.
Deny the sun and refuse the rain,
They don't have lungs to scream in pain.


At first, it seemed, there were some cries,

Deceiving minds, whispering lies.
The cut in my wrist to set me free,
Dig deep in blood to find the key.
The timer, ticking, counting down,
The trap to break my delicate crown.
Burning me up, tearing apart,
Crows that call, "GIVE THE FUCK UP!"
Perspiration dripping wet,
It'll be fine, don't break a sweat.
But blood it drips and pain it wrecks
Standing still on a blood-stained deck
The ocean crashes below my feet
The sound, it seems, is so so sweet,
The sharp rocks glint in ocean spray
Salty air and waters pray
Please don't do it, please don't leave.
The lies life tells you has you deceived.
I've had enough, walking to the edge,
Who wants to feel like they're in a cage?
The brilliant sun calls to my soul,
Come, come, away from the world.
I scream and shout as I fall,
Heeding the glorious sun's call.
At first, it seemed, there were some cries.
Deceiving minds, whispering lies.

The middle man

When worlds collide, do humans cry?

Do we save ourselves, do we even try,
To clean the blood that's on our hands,
The blood which stains our seas and lands?
Why do we fire multiple shots
If we know they burn flesh, white hot?
Why do people casually ignore
The cries which penetrate blood and gore?
Why do people quarrel so much?
Why can't we get along and such?
The tears which leave slight traces down
In which innocent people drown.
Are we even innocent to begin,
or are we born for sinners' reign?
Who draws the line between dark and light,
The sun which chases away dark cold nights?
What is right and what is wrong?
The shouts which scream, "Alright, so long!"
They bury me, your cries of anger,
Why do you, your family, mangle?
What's this other purpose you hold,
to fight for "righteousness", is that so gold?
Why do you cry to me and to others,
if your problems are your own, I shudder.
Does it take a death to show,
That what you reap is what you sow?
What you sow is chaos now,
And in the end will chaos bow?
You don't know, and neither do I,
But all I can do is heave a big sigh,
And pray to heaven that it'll all be over.
Come back to me when you've blown your cover.


Hello there, the angel from my nightmare.

Here's a letter to you, so you understand.
You've been torturing me, having fun.
You know me inside out.
You know my fears.
My goals.
My aspirations.
You know me to the very cells in my bones.
And you give me dreams.
But, just so you know,
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.

You make me cry, but that's okay.
You make it so, so tempting.
You know me inside out.
You know my fears.
My goals.
My aspirations.
You know me to the very cells in my bones.
But you don't understand.
Self-harm is not for attention.
It's a silent scream.
It's killing your inner demons.
It's your most terrible thoughts, expressed on your own body.
It's just an addiction.

You don't understand me.
You don't understand what I do.
You know me inside out.
You know my fears.
My goals.
My aspirations.
You know me to the very cells in my bones.
But you can't see the pain you're causing.
People who die by suicide don't want to end their lives.
They just want to end their pain.
The pain you cause me, you cause them.
A temporary solution with a permanent effect.
Things don't need to last forever to be perfect.


Playing with our white breath

Taking you, my love,
for a ride on my bike,
to go to our secret place.
Sitting down in an empty room,
with you and me, my love,
talking about "What if"s until the morning.
I long for you, my love.
I wish for you.
How many winters have passed since then?
We've seperated.
But the amongst the silly things we said that day,
My love, was,
"What if you were here with me right now?"