You're worth so much more by Tangled-Tales, literature
Literature
You're worth so much more
She was the type
to cut her wrists,
and then swallow the
razor blade,
because looking at what
she'd done
was even harder
to digest
but I want to tell her
to let the emotions
s l
p i l
out of her mouth,
instead of her
skin,
and that I'll gladly
let the words slice me,
if it means
it'll save
her wrists.
To the girl who skips dinner,
Because her reflection hurts more than
Starving.
To the boy who wears sweatshirts
On hot summer days,
Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his
Scars.
To the boy who weeps uncontrollably
Until he falls asleep,
Because it’s the only way to escape into his
Dreams.
To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,
Because the dark is more peaceful than her
Mind.
To the child who gets angry,
Because no one understands.
To the teens who self-harm,
To the ones in recovery,
To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…
Stay Strong.
For the girl who skips meals
And the boy who wears sw
There's a god on my street by CrumbledWings, literature
Literature
There's a god on my street
There's a god on my street
glorious and radiant
blind and crippled
begging for loose change.
Everyday I drop him four quarters
Ping Ping Ping Ping
they sound in god's cup
and I'm sure they ring
like mellifluous bells
for the world to hear
from my disgusting street.
However I don't stay with this god
nor does he stay with me
he stays on this street
this street is his home
and my home is elsewhere
away from such a disgraceful hovel.
There's a god on my street
however once I leave him
he will not see me
he sees nothing at all
does nothing at all
living of the four glorious pings
which I bless upon him.
There's a god on my stree
Baby cries for the mommy
Boy cries for the attention
Teen cries for the confusion
Man cries for the reality
Senior cries for the regret
Deceased cries for the living
No matter who we are
Powerful or weak
Happy or depressed
Rich or poor
Popular or alone
We all weep together
One way or another
In this empty room
We stand together
In silence
In the darkness
Our shattered hearts
Bleeding together as one
While the blood runs
Through our cold skin
This is what love is like
Two broken people
Sharing their pain
Merging their empty souls
We forget about the world
Because we live in a world of our own
United as one
In an illusion of happiness
You murdered two children
with your bare hands
and thanked God
that He saved you
from getting the death penalty,
bloody hands and all
I saved two children
from a burning fire
and hate the God
I no longer believe in
for burning my skin,
and with it my faith
It seems God
works in mysterious ways,
or maybe,
he doesn't work at all.
In my heart
There's a nail
Protruding long
Outside its core,
In my hand
There's a hammer
Leaving me a choice
To pull the nail free
Or leave it to rest
In the center of my soul.
And this nail
However deeply it stabs
Or loosely it traps
The litter of dreams
And hopes I've trapped inside,
Gathering them together
To be displayed like
A dying tribute
To a once loved species,
A once treasured creation,
Decides my fate
And traps my destiny.
And though I know the nail
Needs to be removed
To release my heart
Of its futile struggle
To hold a collection
Of dying memories,
Every time I feel the nail loosen
As I've grown to older,
Less naive,
Less ho
Between the Sword and the Pen by XMajutsu-shiX, literature
Literature
Between the Sword and the Pen
I heard there was a battle,
between a pen and a sword.
Between a few deathly strikes,
and one simple word
The sword could not defeat
a few thousand men,
A thousand worded lecture
was written by the pen.
The lecture drove them all,
to temporary death.
Its words dragged on like lullabies,
and stole their very breath.
The sword was not able
to bring tears to ones eyes,
Without striking love
and telling many lies.
The pen however knew how
to make ones insides melt,
when composing a sonnet
so powerful and svelte.
The sword ended up covered,
with blood and salty tears.
It's blade getting heavy,
from battling all those years.
And I hear that
i.
sleepwalking with stars
like bulletwounds, tonight
is for wandering and
loving people I’ve never met.
I have a hole in my heart for
the boy on my bus who balances
the world on his chin as he sleeps.
I’m drawn to a sunshine girl leaking
beams every time she opens her
mouth to smile. and still, I follow
a boy who walks across clouds;
I want to ask him to send me up
like a balloon.
ii.
ways I need to be loved:
a hand heavy on my hip to remind me
gravity is more than an ideal, a
soft kiss to bring me back from
other galaxies, a calm whisper
when I’ve run out of words
but the silence is too
much,
iii.
I’m severe