I can't help but think of death.I can't help but think of death.A sweet ending.An escape.I cant help but think of razors.The taste of blood.The release.I cant help but think of pain.The one constant.The one wish.I can't help but think of these.Because they are the only things on my mind.The only thing that is there.
Would You Miss Me?Would you miss me, if I said I’d die tomorrow?Would you kiss me, as I lay thereIn that six by four foot hollow?Do you think that I would be remembered?Or would my name burn to ash as soon asMy life is ended?Could you not bear to be beside me?Would you leave a grieving mother to thinkI am where she should be?Would you miss me, if I said I’d not be home?I love you and if I had a choice thenI’d not leave you alone.Take care of my family, tell them where to goIf they’re asking after me, where I amTell them you knowWould you tell me that you’d not loved completely?Until we held hands and you knew that you were,In love with me?Would you ask for money that you think you’re due?Or would you want the book of poetry,That’s all about you?Would you miss me?As I hang up the phone for the last timeWould you miss me?As you sit and hold yourself closeLike I do now your life is throughWould you miss me,Like I still miss you?
MaybeMaybe I won't be fineMaybe I don't know what's wrongMaybe I can't talk about itBut maybe I need you to listenMaybe the cuts get deeper each timeMaybe too much blood comes outMaybe you'll try and stop meBut maybe I won't listenMaybe I want to tell someoneMaybe I need to unload all of my problemsMaybe you're the only one who can helpBut maybe I don't want to bother you with my troublesMaybe I'm just scaredMaybe I've lost hopeMaybe I'm losing controlBut maybe I was never in control to begin withMaybe I like the way things areMaybe I'm afraid of changeMaybe I get a kick out of being so messed upBut maybe I'd rather be a normal girlMaybe I don't like peopleMaybe I can't live without themMaybe I need youBut maybe I don't like the way you tear up my heartMaybe I'm insaneMaybe I'm depressedMaybe I'm just stressedBut maybe that's who I amMaybe I need to be acceptedMaybe I'll change who I am for thatMaybe I'm an outsi
Masks We Wear.In life we wear countless, oh yes, countless of masks.A backstabbing, bitter lie that gouges between the shoulder blades. A gleaming and pleasant smile behind a weary, tear-streaked face.A manufactured loathe towards the person who has abandoned you in the dark.Yet, you grieve to accept their apology with all the slivers of your broken heart.Masks can be lush and colorful, flashy with cheerful and bright colors. All shapes and sizes...Cannot you see them? The gas mask they’re wearing?Empty, hollowed eyes that gaze into an endless abyss while their lips hard in detoxication. Plastic! What for? To try to ignore the thick smoke, curling and lashing out from the orangey flames of hatred that rage within their "once home."Intuition, that's all it takes to simply see someone's mask crumbling in front of you.Gone stale with age, putrid with corruption, and filthy with lies... And how everyone els
Grip me or Free me (3/4)Grip me or free me (3/4) Finn’s vision turned into tunnel vision. Everything at the edges was dark and the only thing he could see was the necklace resting at the palm of his hand. The gold of it was opaque, and dingy, just like the gold he had found with Jake in their adventures together. His mind raced with everything…everything but that of what the necklace meant. He thought of different ways to polish and bring the shine back to the gold; to make it new again. “Finn, you have to look inside of it.” He could hear Marceline’s voice telling him to look, but he didn’t want to. He felt as if he remembered the locket, yet he couldn’t be sure. “W-where did you…” He paused not sure how to continue his question, “get this locket?” “Open it Finn. Just open it.” She beseeched. Taking a deep breath, and holding it, he opened the locket. He could feel Marceline looking over h
Grip me or Free me (2/4)Grip me or Free me (2/4) “What?” They said at the same time. Both were shocked into silence, as they stared at each other. Marceline opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. Had he really said what she thought she heard him say? Better yet; had she really said it too? She didn’t have it in mind to tell him she loved him, but to tell him the reason for their journey. What had made her tell him she loved him? “I don’t know if I heard correctly or if it was just my imagination Marceline.” Finn paused hesitantly, “But I really like you.” He kicked the ground with the tip of his shoe, looking nervous. “I know you probably think that I’m just some stupid kid for even thinking that anything can happen between us, but…I just; I do have the courage to at least tell you how I feel. Even if you reject me…I at least—” Marceline had moved forward to seal his lips with he
Artistic lifeMusic is my passionWritting is my goalDrawing is my hobbyArt is in my soul
Idea for a Zombie NovelI remember the outbreak well. It was supposed to be a cure for cancer -- a virus that viciously attacked and killed cancerous cells, shrinking tumors at an alarming rate. They'd tested it on animals for years, with no negative effects. The day they tested it on a human, however, everything changed.Her name was Lauren Foster; she'd had aggressive cervical cancer and had agreed to the experimental drug only because her own doctors had given her four months to live. She was a beautiful, rebellious, free-spirited woman with a strong will to live. She didn't deserve to be the first of the walking dead.The virus did its job, eradicating Lauren's tumors in a week, but then began to qiuckly mutate. The doctors couldn't keep up with it. It started to attack Lauren's brain, first affecting her memory. She forgot random memories -- such as her name, where she lived, how many siblings she had, what her job was -- and then remembered them again, only to forget something else. As the fever progres